The Bone Tree (30 page)

Snake’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean? Is the Black Team gonna kill him?”

“That’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that by the time you walk in there tomorrow, Walker Dennis will have ceased to be a factor in our situation.”

“Who’ll be the sheriff, then?”

Forrest grinned. “A friendly face.”

Billy drank off his whiskey, leaned forward, and waited for his cousin to lay out the plan. He expected a classic Forrest Knox gambit: ballsy as hell, yet as intricately choreographed as a ballet. But Forrest said nothing. He had no intention of telling them anything. Billy expected his father to raise hell, but after staring at Forrest’s face for nearly a minute, Snake settled back in his chair with a malevolent smile. It was as though Forrest had cast a spell over him.

“So,” Forrest concluded. “We’re all clear? Tomorrow you walk in there for questioning?”

Snake laughed. “I reckon so, nephew. I reckon so.”

“Good. Now, I want to discuss a couple of things with Billy. We’re going to take a walk down to check the food plots.”

Billy started to get up, but Snake said, “Hold up one minute. I heard you’ve changed your orders on Tom Cage. No more shoot to kill, they say.”

In an instant the beast that lived behind Forrest’s imperturbable mask revealed itself. “Who told you that?” he asked in a barely audible voice.

But Snake was not intimidated. “Never you mind, nephew. Is it true?”

“It’s true.”

Snake looked at Sonny as if to say,
You see?
Then he said, “And why would that be?”

“Tom Cage is one of the moving parts in the deal I’m making to save your ass.”

Snake slowly went red again. “You mean to save your real-estate deals down in New Orleans, don’t you? This ain’t about saving us up here at all.”

Forrest looked at the floor as though by so doing he could bleed his fury into the wood. After half a minute he composed himself and looked up again, focusing on each man in turn once more.

“The crystal meth business is for suckers,” he said. “You found out why this morning. Every man they brought in is facing a mandatory minimum sentence. You may be right that none of them will turn on you—this time. But sooner or later, somebody will give you up. If we stay in that business, we’re going to end up in Angola one day. You guys may be willing to take that chance, but I’m not. The deals Brody has got me into will make the money we’ve earned in the past look like a joke. I’d be better off paying you to stay
out
of business than to risk you staying in. You understand? And I’m willing to do that, for a reasonable amount of time. What I won’t do is stand by while you go rogue and try some crazy shit like Brody did, and bring more heat down on our heads. Because the day you become a liability to me . . .”

Forrest didn’t finish this sentence. He didn’t need to.

Snake was shaking his head, but when he finally spoke, he only seemed to have one thing on his mind. “I want Tom Cage dead,” he growled. “The rest of it I can live with, but not that. I think the doc knows enough to put us all in Angola, and he’ll do it, too.”

“Why?” Forrest asked, sounding genuinely interested. “Why would he do that?”

“Because of what we done to that nurse of his back in ’68.” Snake looked hard at Forrest. “You know what I’m talking about. You were there.”

Forrest acknowledged this with a nod.

Billy was pretty sure they were talking about a gang rape, but he had no desire to know more.

“Dr. Cage might feel some bitterness about that,” Forrest conceded. “But he cares about his family a lot more than he does revenge. You leave him to me.”

“To him that nurse
was
family,” Snake said. “He loved that nigger, and he had a natural child by her. Why else would he have gone so high up to keep us from killing her?”

Billy had no idea what Snake was talking about.

“He probably did love her,” Forrest said. “I don’t give a shit about that. I care about security. Dr. Cage wants to watch that granddaughter of his grow up for as long as he can. He’ll do a lot for that privilege.”

Snake held out a shaking hand and pointed at Forrest. “Mark my words, boy. You try to cut a deal with Tom Cage, and he’ll fuck you in the end.”

Forrest looked more intrigued than angry. “Why is that, Uncle?”

Snake sat so still he looked carved from stone. “I’ve never trusted that motherfucker. Not since your daddy died in his office.”

For the first time Forrest looked rattled. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just a feeling I always had. I don’t like that that nigger woman was in there when Frank died, especially so soon after what we done to her.”

Forrest sneered and shook his head. “You’re nuts, Unc. Daddy was doomed the second those batteries fell on him. The pathologist told Mama that.”

“Yeah, well . . . fuck him, too.”

Forrest’s voice hardened. “You’re the one who took Daddy to Dr. Cage’s office. You should have taken him to the hospital. That’s something else the pathologist told Mama, if you want to know.”

“Fuck the pathologist!” Snake roared. “I know what I know. And I
want Dr. Cage
dead
. The rest you can have your way on, but I want that SOB in the swamp!”

Forrest stood, then walked over to Snake and spoke in a voice so soft and sibilant that Billy was reminded of the warning hiss of the moccasins for which his father had been nicknamed.

“Listen to me, Uncle. I say who lives and dies in this outfit. Not you, and not anybody you might call in the dark of the night.
Me.
Anybody crosses me on that, he’ll be chewing over old times with Leo Spivey. Am I understood?”

Billy wasn’t breathing. Forrest had just threatened his father with death. To Billy’s surprise, Snake didn’t jump up screaming, but instead merely mumbled a reply. Billy couldn’t make it out, but apparently this response satisfied Forrest, because he turned and walked over to his chair to get his coat.

Billy got up to go for the “walk” Forrest had proposed, but Snake suddenly stood, grabbed his rifle case off the coffee table, and said, “Don’t get up, Billy. I wouldn’t want you youngsters to get a chill. Sonny and I will check the food plots. I might see a buck on the way down. At least that way I won’t have brought my gun for nothing.”

As the obviously shaken Sonny followed Snake to the door, Forrest called after them, “I will give you this, Uncle. If I can’t get this deal done, and quick, there
will
be some killing to do. Mayor Cage, the Masters girl . . . even Kaiser. So keep your gun warmed up, because you never know.”

Snake stopped and looked back at his nephew. “Agent Kaiser? You serious?”

Forrest nodded. “I’m digging into Kaiser right now. I’ve got a funny feeling about him. It may be that even if I do a deal to spare the Cages, Kaiser will need to have an accident. But until I know, you play it my way. Agreed?”

The wild light Billy knew so well flickered in his father’s eyes.

“Deal,” Snake said. Then he went out. Sonny pulled the door shut behind then, and then Billy was alone with Forrest.

Billy had no idea what was coming, but he knew it was serious when Forrest motioned for Ozan to leave the room and refilled Billy’s whiskey glass himself. Forrest poured himself a straight vodka, then turned the big wooden chair around and sat with his legs crossed, his eyes on Billy’s.

“How you doing, William?” he asked.

“Ah, I’m good,” Billy almost stammered.

“Do you think I was too rough on your old man?”

Fuck yeah,
Billy thought. But in his calmest voice he said, “Nah, I get it. It ain’t easy keeping him calm, and we damn sure got enough heat on us already.”

“That’s right. And for that reason, I need to make sure you and I are on the same page.”

Billy’s eyes strayed to the windows that faced the deck. He worried about his father and Sonny trying to eavesdrop.

“Alphonse will make sure nobody hears us,” Forrest said. “Here’s the deal, Billy. I told them the truth. I’m moving up to the next level, where the kind of money and power your father never dreamed about is everywhere. There’s room at that table for you, brother, right next to me. You’ve done a good job of straddling the line between the legitimate and criminal worlds. And you’re good with money, especially cleaning it.”

Billy swelled with pride. His cousin never gave compliments.

“At the same time, thanks to the actions of . . . the past generation, we’re in more danger than we’ve ever faced. I told the truth about the drug business, too. It only ends one of two places, prison or the cemetery.”

Billy took a gulp of bourbon. He’d served time in Raiford Penitentiary in Florida, and the term “prison rape” was not academic to him. He hadn’t watched a prison movie since.

“In some ways,” Forrest went on, “we’re our father’s sons, you and me. We got some good qualities from them. But they had some bad ones, too. Your father’s is his temper. Agreed?”

Billy nodded soberly.

“We can’t let that temper put us at risk, William.”

Billy shook his head. What else could he do?

Forrest leaned toward him, and Billy felt as though the temperature in the room had risen five degrees. “I’m going to do all I can to keep us all out of prison,” Forrest said. “But it’s not a perfect world. The day may come when we have to make a choice, you and me. Between our father’s generation and ours. You understand?”

Billy felt the blood drain from his face. This was the point of the whole conversation. “I do, yeah.”

Forrest let the silence stretch until Billy felt he could hear himself sweating. Then he said, “I need to know that if that day comes, you’ll be ready to cut loose anybody who’s a liability. And that includes your father.”

Billy could no longer speak. It was all he could do not to start shivering on the spot.

“I know that’s a tough thing to contemplate,” Forrest said. “But we may face that choice a lot sooner than we’d like.”

Billy tried to think of something appropriate to say, but his mind had gone blank with fear. Forrest seemed to understand this, and he said, “One more thing. If things should go tits up, we might have to pull the ripcord on our escape chute. We need to make sure our Andorra option is ready to go. Do you feel everything’s good on that front?”

“Absolutely,” Billy said, thankful for the reprieve.

“Good. Well, what about that choice I was talking about?”

Billy got up and walked a few steps away from Forrest. He hated the eyes of all the dead animals staring down at him; he always had. He wasn’t a born killer like his father or Forrest. In fact, if it wasn’t for the TV show, he’d probably have quit hunting game a long time ago.

“When you say cut them loose,” Billy said, “do you mean let them go to jail? Or . . .” His voice died in his throat.

“You know the answer to that. In spite of all their talk about blood oaths, those old men aren’t going to sit in Angola while nigger gangs torment them. One of them will talk. Glenn Morehouse proved that.”

In Forrest’s dark eyes Billy saw not a shred of doubt or mercy. He might as well have been looking into the eyes of his uncle Frank, who despite being long dead, still dominated the family like an unquiet ghost.

“Do we understand each other?” Forrest asked.

“Yeah,” Billy said, knowing further hesitation could be fatal. “I’m not going back to prison. I can’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that, brother.”

Billy felt some of the nauseating tension drain away. “Since I’m not turning myself in, can I go back to Texas now?”

Forrest got to his feet. “Sorry, no. I need you to ride herd on the old men until tomorrow. You speak for me, William. I’ll make that clear. Everything depends on them going to Walker Dennis’s office in the morning.”

“I got it. Where will you be?”

“Concordia Parish. Out of sight, but close enough to take over if things spin out of control tomorrow. I’m going to leave Traveller out here tonight. I may not be able to take him everywhere I’ll need to go. You look out for him?”

“Sure,” Billy said, adding the dog to his endless list of responsibilities. He took another slug of bourbon. “Do you really think you can cut a deal? I mean . . . is there a real chance?”

“A good chance. Tomorrow Walker Dennis is going to get the surprise of his life. And with luck, by then my deal will be in place.” Forrest walked over and patted Billy on the shoulder. “Okay?”

Billy felt the drink shaking in his hand. “Okay, Forrest. I’m with you.”

WALT LAY BENEATH A
bed in one of the second-floor rooms, his heart thundering in his chest. He’d scarcely reached the second-story landing when the front door of the lodge opened and booted feet marched into the great room. As he’d turned to slip down the hallway, he’d peered back around the corner and caught sight of the last man into the room: a uniformed state trooper with dark hair, a hard jawline, and a mutilated ear.
Forrest Knox
. And trailing at Knox’s heel was the large pit bull Walt had seen back in Baton Rouge.

Once Walt reached his present hiding place, he’d heard muted voices below, yet as hard as he strained to hear, he couldn’t make out the words. Any hope that the conversation would be short faded as the minutes dragged on. Eventually, the helicopter outside spooled up again and noisily departed, but after the beating of its rotors faded, at least two voices droned on below. More disturbing still, when Walt checked his cell phone, he found he had no service. This puzzled him, since he’d checked his phone several times during the walk in and seen three bars of reception.

As carefully as he could, he slid out from under the bed, tiptoed to the window, and peered through a crack in the curtains. A dog that appeared to be Knox’s pit bull was sitting in the yard, alert as a hungry wolf. The sight chilled Walt’s blood. He’d worked with K-9 units enough to know that the canine sense of smell was a truly fearsome thing. He had no chance at escape while that dog patrolled the yard.

Walt took out his burn phone and checked it again, but being near the window hadn’t improved his reception.
At least I know Tom’s okay,
he thought.
Even if I don’t know where he is.