The Road to Omaha (35 page)

“Wad chu mean now?” asked Desi the First.

“Instant submission is the first sign of counterattack. Forget the tall skinny one; he’s useless, but watch the female! They frequently carry grenades under their skirts.”

“You antediluvian son of a
bitch
!” yelled Redwing, getting to her feet and angrily smoothing her hair and her dress. “You
barbarian
! You bellowing relic from a fifth-rate war movie, who the
hell
do you think you
are
?”

“Guerrilla tactics,” said Mac under his breath to his adjutants. “The second phase after submission is loud verbal abuse—that’s when they distract your concentration and pull the pins.”

“I’ll pull
your
pin right out of its hairy recess, you walking junk bond! And how
dare
you wear those clothes? You look like a refugee from a Shriner’s convention, you horse’s ass!”

“You see, y’see?” muttered the Hawk, mangling the cigar in his mouth. “She’s trying to distract me now—watch her hands, men. Those knockers she’s got are probably plastic explosives.”

“I’ll find out, Heneral!” cried Desi the First, his eyes focused properly on the targets as his starched shirt whipped up out of place. “Wad chu think?”

“You take one step toward me,” said Redwing, lowering her shoulders and grabbing the strap of her purse from the chair, then suddenly, snapping it open with her left hand and removing the cylinder of Mace with her right. “… you’ll be blinded for a month,” she completed, waving her weapon back and forth between the two formally clothed subordinates and their Wopotami-dressed superior. “Try me and you won’t merely make my day, you’ll make my week.”

“This is where I came in,” interrupted Sam Devereaux, walking to the mirrored bar and the pitcher of martinis; he hop-skipped and soccer-kicked the fallen glass on the hotel rug.

“
Wait
a minute!” exclaimed Aaron, adjusting his steel-rimmed spectacles and studying the lovely bronze-skinned woman. “I
know
you.… Seven or eight years ago—Harvard, the
Law Review
, among the top of your class … an outstanding analysis of censorship within the framework of constitutional law.”

“Nanny’s Naughty Follies, by God!” said Devereaux, laughing as he poured himself a drink.

“Be quiet, Samuel.”

“We’re back to Samuel?”

“Shut up, Counselor.… Yes, Mr. Pinkus, you interviewed me, and I was very flattered by your interest.”

“But you turned us down, my dear. Why was that?… 
You certainly don’t have to answer me, because it’s none of my business, but I’m curious. I distinctly remember asking my associates what firm in Washington or New York you were heading for—frankly, I intended to call whomever it was and tell them how fortunate they were. Washington and New York are usually the goals of the best and the brightest, although I obviously disagree. However, I seem to recall that you went with a small, albeit fine firm in Omaha.”

“It’s where I came from, sir. As you may have gathered, I’m a member of the Wopotami tribe.”

“I
half
gathered that, although my other half sincerely hoped you might refute the conclusion. Life would be less chaotic, if that were in the realm of possibility.”

“It’s not, Mr. Pinkus. My name is Jennifer Redwing and I’m a daughter of the Wopotamis. I’m also extremely proud of the fact.”

“But where in heaven’s name did you ever meet Samuel?”

“In an elevator—this morning—at the Four Seasons Hotel. He was very tired; he claimed he was exhausted and made several foolish remarks.”

“That was sufficient to cause you to be here with him now, Miss Redwing?”

“She went to my
house,
” interjected Devereaux. “I apologized—I even tipped the doorman for her—and then I heard this crazy lady give my own address to the taxi driver! What would
you
have done, Aaron?”

“Obviously, followed her to your house.”

“I
did.
”

“I went to his house, Mr. Pinkus, because it was the last address I traced down for that demented
creature
standing next to you!”

“Angry little filly, isn’t she?” observed the Hawk.

“Yes, General Hawkins—you couldn’t possibly be anyone else—I
am
angry, and no, General, I am
not
a ‘little filly,’ as you will learn when I get through with you. In court or out of court, I’ll chew your ass off!”

“Verbal abuse, Sergeants. Stay alert.”

“Oh, shut up, you lowest face on the dumbest totem. Incidentally, that beaded jacket you’re wearing tells the story
of an idiot buffalo who hadn’t the brains to get out of a storm. Very appropriate.”

“Hey, Red,” broke in Sam, a martini at his lips. “Cool it. Remember the corporate trust.”

“
Cool
it? Just looking at him makes me want to scream!”

“He has that effect on people,” mumbled Devereaux, drinking.

“A moment, please,” said Pinkus, gently holding up his hand. “I believe I heard something that should be clarified.” The venerated attorney turned to Sam. “
What
‘corporate trust’? What have you done
now
?”

“Just a little
pro bono
advice, Aaron. You’d approve.”

“You and any approval on my part may well be mutually exclusive at this juncture.… Perhaps you will explain, Miss Redwing?”

“I’d be delighted to, Mr. Pinkus. Especially for the benefit of your other guest, General Neanderthal. You may have to translate for him, but I suspect he’ll eventually understand the bottom line, if only because he won’t get anywheres near it.”

“That’s succinct,” said Aaron, his expression not unlike that of Eisenhower’s upon learning of MacArthur’s dismissal.

“It’s brilliant, and despite a profusion of faults too numerous to mention, the concept did originate with your employee, Mr. Pinkus. I must grant him that.”

“The work of a fine attorney starts with a gracious attorney, Miss Redwing.”

“Really? I never thought of it that way.… Why? I’m merely asking, of course.”

“Because he—or she—has the confidence of his or her own abilities. There’s no need to feed a tenuous ego by withholding praise from another. Hire that girl or that fellow; neither will distract themselves with real or imagined hostilities.”

“I think I just learned something—”

“It’s hardly original, my dear. Without offense, I should point out that our general here said very much the same thing in military terms. Distraction through hostility—the
weaker must pretend, the stronger merely watches, prepared to act.”

“Are you comparing that
ape
to
me
 …?”

“Now, see here, you little Injun filly.…”

“
Please
, General!… I said only in
military
terms, Miss Redwing—troop strength, if you like. Say that handsome chest of yours actually did conceal plastic explosives—which I devoutly trust it does not—our general was only trying to instruct his associates to stay on the alert, and not to be distracted by your hostility. The equation is really quite simple.”

“Wad chu think about bein’ distracted by wad
is
there, huh, man?”

“That’s
enough
, Sergeant—”

“I agree wid chu, Desi-Uno—”

“
Mairzy doats and dosie doats and little lambs eat ivy
 …”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Samuel, stop it!”

“Son, you’re spilling your drink—”

“What, my dear Miss Redwing, were you about to explain about this concept that was conceived in the brain of my presently not-altogether employee?”

“Quite simply, Mr. Pinkus, as the Wopotami tribe is a registered incorporated entity, a trust at this moment is being set up and signed by the legally empowered Council of Elders, stating that all legal and fiduciary matters be negotiated solely through the offices of the executors of the trust, all parties referred to in prior documents having no authority whatsoever. In short words, the specifically named executors of the trust shall, in concert, hold sole collective power of attorney.”

“That sounds like mighty fine legalese, little lady,” said Hawkins. “What’s it mean?”

“It means, General,” replied Redwing, her eyes ice cold on the Hawk, “that no one, repeat
no one
, other than the executors of the Wopotami trust, can make any decisions, or enter into any agreements, involving the tribe’s interests—or receive any benefits thereof.”

“Well, I must say that appears to be damn smart protection,” said Hawkins, removing the mutilated cigar, then
suddenly cocking his head as if disturbed. “But I suppose the next question is—are these here executors trustworthy, no pun intended, miss?”

“Beyond reproach, General. Among them are two attorneys, several doctors, a president of an international foundation, three vice-presidents of leading banks, a stockbroker or two, and a renowned psychiatrist whom you should definitely make an appointment to see. In addition, they are all true offspring of the Wopotamis, and, lastly, I am the chairperson of, as well as the spokesperson for, the trust’s executors. Any other questions?”

“Yes, just one. Is this what the Council of Elders wants?”

“It certainly is. They’re guided by our advice and we are unwavering. So as you can plainly see. General Hawkins, even if your insane, utterly destructive scheme progresses an inch further,
we
, not you, will be in complete control so as to minimize the deleterious effects on an innocent people, of whom you’ve taken outrageous advantage. In brief, you’re out, you maniac.”

The expression on the Hawk’s face conveyed not only pain but deep personal hurt. It was as though a world he had nurtured with care and profound love had cast him aside, leaving a bereft, lonely old man, an abandoned champion who refused in dignity to give in to bitterness. “I forgive you your unwarranted suspicions and your intemperate language,” he said softly, “for you truly do not know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, my
God
!”

“The reputed Son of God fits better,” suggested Devereaux, going back to the bar.

“Chu gettin’ the shaft, Heneral?” asked Desi the Second.

“Then maybe deze gringos go out for some air, huh, man?” said D-One. “Through the windows, h’okay?”

“No, gentlemen,” protested Hawkins, quietly, heroically, the sepulchral tones of a saint in his voice. “This grand female has assumed the mantle of command, and the least I can do is to lessen that awesome responsibility—”

“Here it comes,” interrupted Sam, fingering his martini to catch an olive. “Shovel time, fellas.”

“Son, you really do misjudge me—”

“You threw me that one before, Mac. Somehow I couldn’t catch it.”

“Why not give me a chance, boy?”

“It’s your bunny pulpit, Br’er Rabbit. Go ahead.”

“Miss Redwing.” The Hawk nodded his head once, a senior officer acknowledging another. “I respect and understand your skepticism regarding my participation in the cause of the Wopotamis. So now let me put it to rest. As an adopted son of the tribe, I accept all decisions of the wise Council of Elders. Benefits to my person are irrelevant, I only want to see justice done.”

Jennifer Redwing was stunned. The anticipated, vicious battle with a megalomaniacal giant had been reduced to her straightening out a sweet, injured puppy dog with a lot of legal claptrap. “Well … General … I honestly don’t know what to say.” Jennifer brushed her dark hair back defensively, for a moment ashamed to lock eyes with her wounded previous adversary. “Please understand, sir,” she began, forcing her gaze on the old soldier who had given so much for his country—
their
country. “I’m extremely protective, perhaps overly protective, of my people because our history
is
rife with injustices, as are the histories of American Indians everywhere. In your case, I was wrong. I apologize. Please accept that apology, it’s meant.”

“He’s
gotcha
!” cried Devereaux, swallowing the remainder of his martini. “The raging lion is a wet pussycat and you buy it.”

“Samuel, that will be enough! Didn’t you hear what the man
said
?”

“I’ve heard a hundred variations—”

“Shut up, Counselor! He’s a
great
man and he’s just agreed to everything I wanted. Try to recall, if that gin-drenched brain will let you, your own words. An essential
truth
, remember?”

“You forgot the circuitous routes, Counselor,” said Sam, heading back to the bar. “There are bumpy roads ahead, fellas.”

And, naturally, the hotel telephone rang. Aaron Pinkus, shaking his head in equal parts irritation and anger, walked
rapidly to the desk and picked up the intruding instrument. “Yes?”

“To who is this am I presently speaking to?” asked the high-pitched voice on the line. “The big Hebe lawyer or the big nuthouse general in the Geronimo beads?”

“This is Aaron Pinkus, and I’m an attorney, if that answers your question.”

“It’s good enough, yarmulke. It’s by your limo I found you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it’s a long story and I’d like to tell you, but the Bam-Bam don’t like long stories, and to tell you the truth, you ain’t got much time.”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Well, you see, years ago there was this half-assed shamus who put the collar on me, but now we got a truce, and on account of the fact that he’s still got friends downtown, a lot of black-and-whites have been lookin’ for your limo,
capisce
?”

“What are you
talking
about?”

“Maybe I should then talk to the wild man, right? Tell the asshole to take the fuckin’ cigar out of his mouth and get on the Ameche.”

“I believe this is for you, General,” said Pinkus, turning and speaking slowly, hesitantly. “A rather strange fellow who speaks like a chicken might speak—as I
imagine
a chicken might speak.”

“
Breakthrough
!” cried the Hawk, taking rapid strides to the desk and grabbing the phone, then instantly covering the mouthpiece and addressing the others. “Old soldiers, even grunts, don’t fade away. They remember the days, my friends, because they never end!… Is this
you
, Little Joseph?”