The Road to Omaha (28 page)

“I have no thoughts, no comprehension of the events that swirl around me—”

“Yeah, the lovely Injun miss said you might sound a touch confused—and I wasn’t to pay no attention to your trousers.”

“I
changed
them! She knows that!”

“And I don’t care to know no details, boyo, but I tell ya this. You do dirt to that girl and you’ll answer to me, bucko. Now, get out and join the ladies. I’ll watch this fruit car of yours.”

“
Inside
?”

“They ain’t in a yacht in Boston Harbor, lad.”

A completely bewildered Devereaux got out of the car, barely finding his balance on the pavement, when Aaron Pinkus’s limousine came thundering down the entrance ramp into the parking lot and sped toward the yellow Jaguar by the canopy, coming to a crushing stop behind it. “
Sammy
!” yelled Paddy Lafferty from the open window. “Oh, hello there, Billy Gilligan, how are ya?”

“Survivin’, Paddy,” replied Nanny’s semibenevolent King Kong. “And you, kiddo?”

“Better now that I see you got my boyo in tow.”

“He’s yours?”

“Me and my fine employer’s as it were.”

“Then take him, Paddy. He’s a bit off in the head, y’know. I’ll watch both the cars.”

“I thank you, Billy,” said Lafferty, leaping from the oversized automobile and running toward Sam and Tarzan’s enlarged cheetah of later years; he totally ignored Devereaux. “Billy-boy, you won’t believe what I’ve got to tell you, but I swear it on all the graves of County Kilgallen!”

“So, what is it, Paddy?”

“I not only met the man, but he drove beside me in the front seat and we had a very meaningful conversation between us! Between just the
two
of us, Billy!”

“The
Pope
, Paddy? Your Jewish fella brought the Pope over?”

“Go one better, Billy!”

“Well, I couldn’t now, really—except one, of course, but that’s out of the question.”

“No, Billy, you
got
it, lad!
Himself
, it was! General MacKenzie
Hawkins
!”

“Don’t say that, Paddy, m’heart will stop dead—”

“I mean it, Billy Gilligan! It was himself in the God-given flesh, and a grander, greater man there never was. Remember how we used to talk in France, crossin’ through the woods in the Marne? ‘Give us Mad Mac and we’ll break through the shit-kicking Krauts!’ And then for ten days he was there and we busted through, singin’ and shootin’ our hearts out with himself ahead of us,
ahead
of us, Billy, shoutin’ his head off, tellin’ us we could
do
it because we were better than the bastards who’d put us in chains!
Remember
, Billy?”

“The most glorious days of m’life, Paddy,” answered Gilligan, tears welling in his eyes. “Outside of our Lord Jesus, he’s maybe the greatest man God ever put on earth.”

“I think he’s in trouble, Billy. Right here in Boston!”

“
Not
while we’re about, Paddy. Not while the Pat O’Brien Commemorative Legion Post has a breathin’ soldier in its membership.… Hey, Paddy? What happened to your boyo? He’s flat out on the cement.”

“He’s fainted, Billy. Must run in the family.”

“
Mmmjff…
!” came the unconscious protest from Sam Devereaux’s throat.

“Samuel Lansing Devereaux, get up at once and behave yourself!” cried Lady Eleanor with estimable authority, considering the fact that she clutched Jennifer Redwing’s arm under Nanny’s canopy for stability.

“Come on, Sam boyo,” said Paddy. “Grab my hand, lad.”

“He’s lighter than me daughter-in-law, Lafferty,” added Billy Gilligan. “We can just heave him into the Hebrew canoe.”

“Yer daughter-in-law should play for the Patriots, Billy, and I’ll ask you not to refer to Mr. Pinkus’s fine stretcheroo in derogatory terms.”

“Guess where I got that derogatory term, Paddy?” asked Gilligan, chuckling as the two men carried Devereaux to the limousine and angled him into the backseat. “Don’t bother, I’ll tell you. From old Pinkus himself, boyo. Remember when you and he come over and we—”

“That’ll be
enough
, Billy, and I thank you for your assistance. The keys are in the Jaguar, and I’ll thank you again if you’ll stash it and lock it where you can keep your eye on it.”

“Oh, no, Lafferty!” objected Gilligan. “I’m callin’ my
relief and headin’ directly over to the Pat O’Brien Commemorative Post and rounding up the members. If the greatest general who ever kissed the sword of battle has troubles, he can count on us, by the graves of Donegal!”

“We can’t
do
nothin’, Billy, until the general and Mr. Pinkus give us our orders. I’ll stay in touch, my word as a gunny.”

“Oh, the glory of it! To meet the magnificent man himself—general of the United States Army, MacKenzie Hawkins!”

“Oh, that
dreadful
name!” exploded Eleanor Devereaux.

“You’re seconded, Ellie,” agreed Redwing.

“
Mmmfff
,” came the muffled cry from the backseat of the limousine.

“Pay no attention, Gilligan, the girls aren’t well.… But, Billy, I didn’t promise that you’d meet the great man himself, I only said I’d try.”

“And I didn’t promise I wouldn’t sell the Jaguar, neither, Paddy. I only said I’d try not to.”

“Come along, ladies,” Lafferty interrupted, with a scowl at Gilligan. “I’m to take you to the Ritz-Carlton, where Mr. Pinkus has made private arrangements—”

“
Paddy
!” yelled a partially revived Sam Devereaux from the backseat. “I’ve got to reach Mac … he doesn’t know what’s happening!” The attorney lurched unsteadily out of the limousine on the far side, slammed the door, and crawled to the automobile’s cellular telephone.

“Ladies,
please
?” cajoled Lafferty, helping Jennifer to gently insert Eleanor into the backseat and closing the door after them. Paddy then climbed behind the wheel, concerned that Sam was having such difficulties with the switchboard at the Four Seasons Hotel.

“What do you
mean
all calls to the Pinkus suite are being transferred to another room?” shouted Devereaux.

“Calm down, boyo,” said Lafferty, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine. “You’ll get more with honey than vinegar.”

Sam glowered at the chauffeur. “ ‘MacKenzie Hawkins, Superstar,’ ” he muttered. “Why don’t you clowns write a new musical?… It’s
what
, Operator? Busy? Never mind,
I’ll call back.… I’ve got to reach Aaron,” said Devereaux, manipulating the buttons on the phone.

“That won’t be easy right now,” offered Lafferty, speeding up the ramp and onto the highway. “When he called me, he said he was leaving the office for an hour or so and he’d see you all at the Ritz.”

“You don’t understand, Paddy! Mac could have been taken by now … or worse.”

“The
general
?”

“He’s been followed ever since he got to Boston!”

“By
God
!” shouted Lafferty. “Give me that phone and I’ll call the Pat O’Brien boys at the Legion Post myself! I’ll leave word for Billy Gilligan—”

“Let me try the hotel one more time.” Frantically, Sam dialed and glanced over his shoulder into the rear section of the limousine. The hard look in Redwing’s luminous eyes told him that she understood the state of emergency; his mother blinked rapidly at nothing. “The Pinkus suite, please, Operator, and I realize that all calls are transferred to another room.” Devereaux held his breath until a strange, half-whining, high-pitched voice answered.

“This is Little Joey,” said the man, woman, hermaphrodite, or dwarf. “Whaddya want?”

“I believe I may have the wrong room,” replied Sam, doing his best to control his panic. “I’m trying to locate General MacKenzie Hawkins, twice winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor, hero of the United States Army and close friend of the whole Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as the President, who will immediately order an invasion of the hotel if the general’s life is threatened in any way, shape, or manner!”

“I gotcha. You want the big
pasta fazool
.… Hey, Mickey Ha Ha, it’s for you.”

“You’ll never rise in the ranks with that sort of insubordination, Little Joseph!” came the growling, approaching voice of the Hawk. “Commander Pinkus, is that you?”

“… Little
Joseph
? Mac, what the hell are you
doing
?… Never mind, we don’t have time—you’re being
followed
! Someone’s been
following
you ever since you got to Boston!”

“Why, Lieutenant Devereaux, you’re shaping up. I mean
you’re really counting off the numbers like a master sergeant, no offense to your bars.”

“You
know
?”

“Well, it was pretty obvious after my adjutant reported what he overheard at the front desk.”

“But you said you
didn’t
know how it happened, that it wasn’t Hymie somebody-or-other’s modus operandi!”

“I
didn’t
know then, and it wasn’t the Hurricane’s M.O. I
do
know now and it still isn’t Hymie. This fella wasn’t hard to find; his door was open exactly an inch and a half.”

“For Christ’s sake, make sense!”

“I just did, and you’ve got to get off this line. We’re expecting another call.”

“From
whom
?”

“I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“How?”

“You heard me ask if you were him—”

“ ‘He’—”

“What?”

“Never mind.…
Who
?”

“Commander Pinkus, of course.”

“He’s on his way to the Ritz.”

“Not for a while, son. He and my adjutants are on a supply run.”

“Who the fuck is Little
Joseph
?… Sorry, Mother.”

“He’s kind of a sweet old guy,” answered the Hawk, lowerng his voice to a near-whisper, “with the size and shape of a good night-patrol point, especially in hill country, but I’m afraid his age and his temperament don’t go with the job any longer.… I wouldn’t care to tell him that, naturally. It could destroy his confidence, you can understand that, Lieutenant.”

“I don’t understand a goddamned thing!
What
job?”

“Those pricky-shit lace-pants in Dizzy City must really be crippled by the deficit,” continued the general rapidly, and so quietly Devereaux could barely hear him. “Son of a bitch, boy, that sort of thing never bothered any of
us
!”

“He’s from
Washington
?”

“I know, I know,” said the Hawk, with weary, if impatient,
finality. “Commander Pinkus explained that it was vital we leave him room for deniability.”

“
Deniability
?”

“Bye, Sam.” The line went dead.

“What is it?” asked Redwing intensely, leaning forward in the backseat, her right hand firmly gripping Eleanor’s shoulder.

“Is the grand and great general all right, boyo?” cried Lafferty, accelerating the limousine and weaving in and out of the traffic toward Boston. “Shall I call Gilligan and the troops?”

“I don’t know, Paddy, I really don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t give me no crap, lad!”

“What
do
you know, Sam?” Jennifer asked, her question posed calmly, warmly, the consummate attorney. “Take your time and collect your thoughts.”

“Cut the friendly interrogation, please, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to figure it out and it’s not easy, it’s just crazy.”

“Then get your act together, Counselor.”

“That’s better, Red.… Mac’s obviously in control, and my guess is that he’s found the man who’s been following him—guess, hell, it’s a given; he’s too condescending for it to be anything else—and he’s learned that the surveillance is from Washington.”

“Oh, good Lord …!”

“Exactly my sentiments, Miss Indian On-and-Off Love Call. Certain segments of Dizzy City are climbing the wall, and that’s the worst news we could hear.”

“What segments, Counselor?”

“From what I can gather, Counselor, they’re very unhealthy. Their emissaries to Boston carry guns.”

“They wouldn’t
dare
!” cried Redwing.

“Shall we revisit Watergate or Iran-contra, or, to balance the agenda, half the elections in Chicago since 1920? There’s no ‘wouldn’t dare’ in those events. And even if there were, compare the bucks spread out to all of those historical connivances combined with one
month
of the Strategic Air Command. They’re infinitesimal, Indian lady, we’re talking mega
billions
! You think our benevolent battalions
of defense contractors, along with their representatives from all over the country—suppliers from Long Island to Seattle—won’t push their panic buttons at even the prospect of denting all those profit sheets? Jesus, if one tenth of one percent of the defense budget is cut, they’re all howling for blood. This kind of thing could open up their vampire factories.”

“You’re assuming that the Wopotami brief has been put on the Supreme Court’s schedule for argument.”

“It doesn’t have to be put on any schedule, just word leaked that it’s even being considered, or worse, being held over for future
possible
argument.”