The Rule of Three (4 page)

*   *   *

Except for the parade of walkers and a few bicyclists, I was the only thing moving on the road. We were the center of everybody’s attention. I almost felt guilty, driving while everybody else was hoofing it.

Suddenly, a man jumped off the curb in front of me, waving his arms wildly. I swerved, easily avoiding him. He yelled out a stream of swear words that came in through the open window as we rolled along.

Up ahead, the intersection was partially blocked with stalled cars and people milling around the vehicles. There wasn’t really a clear path. I slowed down, but then Herb leaned over and placed a hand on my horn. It blared out a warning and people slowly moved to the side, some of them shooting resentful looks our way.

“Just keep going,” Herb ordered.

We passed right through the gap.

“It’s important not to stop,” he said. “You can’t help them. Just keep driving.”

“Where
are
we driving to?”

“Jamison Pools. At that little shopping center down Burnham toward the bridge.”

“But you don’t even have a pool.”

“It’s all about opportunity.”

“You’re going to
get
a pool?”

“Of course not. Your parents let me use yours whenever I want. You know where the pool place is, right?”

“I know where it is. I just don’t know
why
we’re going there.”

“To purchase chlorine.”

“Again, you don’t have a pool,” I said.

“Chlorine is a very essential chemical and one of the few things I don’t have in stock— Look, more vehicles!”

Up ahead two motorcycles were coming toward us. They were small, and one of them looked more like a twelve-year-old’s dirt bike than a street-legal machine.

“That makes sense,” Herb said. “I started my snowblower, lawn mower, and rototiller and they all worked because they don’t have computers. Do you still have your old minibikes?”

My old-school minibikes probably had smaller engines than his lawn mower. “Yeah, but one hasn’t worked since last summer.”

“It can be fixed.”

Up ahead was the little strip mall with the pool store. We pulled into the parking lot. More people were standing around their vehicles—many of them peering into their engine compartments. I pulled to a stop right in front of the pool place, with everybody watching us roll in.

“Lock the car doors behind us,” Herb said.

We got out and Herb grabbed the door of the store. It was shut tight.

“Damn!” Herb said. “We’ll have to go someplace— No, wait, there’s somebody in there!” He started pounding his fist against the glass.

A man appeared. He turned the latch and cracked open the door.

“We’re closed,” he said, and started to pull the door closed.

Herb grabbed it and kept it open. “I just need to make a quick purchase,” he said calmly.

“Sorry, but without electricity there are no credit cards and no cash registers working.”

“How about straight cash?” Herb pulled out a wad of bills that made my eyes go wide. “You don’t want to turn away business, do you?” He also offered the guy a big smile.

“What do you want?”

“Could we talk about that inside?” Herb asked. “I’m not feeling comfortable out here with this much cash in my hands.”

I glanced over my shoulder. We
were
being watched.

The man allowed us in. Herb locked the door behind us.

“Stay by the door,” Herb said to me quietly. “Keep an eye on your car.”

I nodded.

“So what do you need?” the man asked.

“Chlorination tablets.”

“You came out
today
to get those?”

“Yes. Tablets, sticks, or crystals, whatever you have.”

“I have a special on one-inch tablets right over there. How many containers do you want?” the man asked.

“How many do you have?”

“This is a pool store, my friend.”

“I want to purchase as many containers as two thousand dollars can buy.”

“Seriously,” the man said.

“Didn’t that money look serious to you?”

“But why would you need that much?”

“Do you want my money or don’t you?” Herb asked.

“Of course, but how are you going to haul all that chlorine away?”

“You’re going to help us get it into his car,” Herb said, pointing at me.

“I’d be happy to do that, but— Wait, you have a car that works?”

“Are you here to make a sale or to play twenty questions? Let’s work out the details and get loading.”

Herb and the man started to discuss numbers. I was more interested in what was going on outside the store. Lots of people seemed to be looking and pointing in our direction. It was starting to concern me.

“Grab a couple of buckets,” Herb called out.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a big display of twenty-five-pound plastic containers stacked in a pyramid. Herb and I each grabbed one per hand. The salesman took one and then unlocked the door with his other hand.

“That’s not a very big vehicle,” he said as we stopped beside my car.

“Hopefully big enough for forty-two pails,” Herb said. “Let’s start with the trunk.”

I put down the pails, pulled out my keys, and opened it up. The trunk was big and empty.

“I’ll start loading, and you two hustle out with the rest of the buckets,” Herb ordered.

Back and forth we went, two pails at a time, putting them down and letting Herb load them up.

“What
is
he going to do with all this chlorine?” the pool store man asked me at one point.

“I have no idea.”

“He’s okay in the head, right?” he asked. “I don’t want anybody to accuse me of taking advantage of some poor old-timer.”

“Don’t worry about him. I have no idea why he wants it, but he’s got his reasons.”

We grabbed another load and headed out. Herb now had the trunk and backseat pretty well loaded. He’d popped some buckets open and was jamming individual plastic-wrapped packages of chlorine to fill in the spaces between the other pails.

“We have to squeeze them in wherever we can or they’re not going to fit,” he explained.

“I still don’t know why you want this much,” the man said.

“I’m planning on having the most disinfected pool in the world. How many containers to go?”

“Eight more, I think,” the salesman said.

“They should all fit in if I do this right. Adam, you help me finish up these while he gets the rest out here.”

The salesman headed back into the store as Herb opened up another pail.

“Hey there,” somebody called out behind us.

Herb and I turned around. A group of men had broken away from the crowd and were closing in on us. They were middle-aged, and three of them were wearing suits and ties—hardly threatening-looking under normal circumstances, but this wasn’t normal and there was something edgy about them.

“That car runs,” the largest man said.

“Yep, it does,” Herb said.

“Look,” one of the others said, “we all need a ride.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Everybody needs a ride today,” Herb said.

“We have money.”

“We don’t want your money. And we can’t help you. Already got a full load. Sorry.”

“Gramps, I’m trying to be friendly about this,” the big guy said.

He took a couple of steps forward and the others followed along, fanning out slightly. Each of them had an air of desperation.

“First off, I’m not your grandpa,” Herb said. “And second, you’re not being that friendly. Please leave us alone.”

“Look, old man, there’s six of us and we need your car. One way or another we’re going to—”

Herb brushed back his jacket to reveal a pistol in a holster. They all froze in place—and so did I.

“You’re pulling a gun on us?” the big guy demanded.

“Not pulling. Showing you this weapon that I have a permit to carry and know how to use.”

The guy laughed. It seemed a nervous laugh. “So what are you doing,
threatening
to pull a gun on us?”

“If necessary.”

There was a matter-of-fact tone to Herb’s response that made him sound scary. His voice was so calm and cool that I almost felt the chill.

“You shouldn’t fool around with a gun; somebody could get hurt,” the man said.

“Back off, friend, or somebody
will
get hurt.” Herb pointed a finger directly at the big man who had been doing most of the talking.

The man laughed again. This time it was definitely nervous.

“You can’t go around threatening people,” the man said.

“You can’t go around threatening to steal a car,” Herb replied. “Have any of you ever tried this kind of stunt before?”

“Of course not!” a third man protested, and the others mumbled in agreement.

“Then don’t let a few hours of inconvenience without electricity make you do something you’d never do, something you’re going to regret as soon as things start working again.”

Right before my eyes the men’s stances wilted, their expressions softened.

“It’s just that we’re worried,” one of them said.

“It’s only reasonable to be worried,” Herb said.

“We didn’t mean any harm,” a man who hadn’t spoken before explained.

“We’re just trying to get home to our families,” another added.

“I understand, but there’s no point losing our heads, is there?”

The big man looked down at the ground. They’d gone from acting like a mob to looking like a bunch of embarrassed little boys.

“Don’t worry,” Herb said. “This is just going to turn out to be nothing. An hour or so and it’ll be sorted out.”

“You think so?”

“We’ve all lived through power failures and computer glitches before. No big deal, right?” Herb asked.

Again, general agreement.

“You could wait,” Herb said, “but why don’t you lock up your cars here and start walking? The sooner you get moving, the sooner you’ll be home to make sure your families are fine.”

They started muttering among themselves and moving away. I didn’t care where they were going; I was just glad they were leaving.

“And good luck!” Herb called out. “I’m sure everything will be all right.”

They turned, waved, and kept going. I let out a big sigh of relief.

“I didn’t like that,” I said.

“People can act pretty strange when things don’t go normally. Let’s finish loading up,” Herb said.

Quickly we filled the car with the last of the chlorine and climbed in. Before I turned the key I had another small panic attack.
What if it didn’t start?
But it turned over on the first try, and the engine roared. All around people turned to look.

“Put it in gear and let’s get out of here,” Herb said.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I backed out and then headed for the street.

“What made you change your mind about it being over soon?” I asked.

“I didn’t. I was just trying to calm the situation. Of course the weapon helped.”

“I can’t believe you’re carrying a gun.”

“We live in dangerous times. A lot of embassy staff had to have one.”

“Even paper pushers?”

“You bet. In some countries embassy staff members are the prime targets for kidnappings and terrorist attacks. Just read the newspaper.”

“But you’re retired.”

“I guess I just got used to having it. I’m legally registered to carry a sidearm.”

I supposed he had no reason to lie to me about this—although I’d mention it to my mother.

“I’m just glad they didn’t challenge my bluff about the gun,” he said. “There was more danger that I’d shoot my foot off than hit one of them.”

“You have a gun but don’t know how to use it?”

“I had some training, but it was a long time ago.”

“You seemed pretty confident,” I said.

“I’m a pretty good actor. That’s a lot of what diplomacy is about.”

If he didn’t know anything about guns, then he
was
a good actor back there in the parking lot. Or maybe he was acting right now.

“Do you think they were really going to try to steal my car?”

“Don’t be so surprised. Situational ethics can take root in a very short time.”

He could see from my expression that I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’s simple. The way people act, what they believe is wrong or unethical, changes because of the situation. None of those men woke up today thinking they’d try to steal a beat-up old car from a kid and an old man. Things change, especially when a mob mentality sets in,” Herb said.

“Six of them hardly makes a mob.”

“It’s not the numbers but the attitude. The situation set the stage for their action, provided the fuel, but the big guy was going to be the one to ignite them. Always take on the big dog when you’re attacked by a pack.”

“They were people, not a pack of dogs.”

He smiled. “Of course, but I’ve learned the two have some things in common.”

“Was that part of your embassy work?” I asked. “Taking on the big dogs?”

“Part of life.”

His cryptic responses were driving me a little crazy. “So all embassy staff have to be trained to carry weapons?”

“You’re no stranger to firearms either. Your mother is a police officer, and don’t you have long guns in your house?”

“We have a couple of rifles.” We had three, actually, and a shotgun, secured with the ammunition in a lockbox. The first thing my mother did when she got home every night was to lock away her service revolver in that box. Then I realized he’d avoided answering my question by asking me one. “So some of the places you worked and lived were pretty dangerous.”

“Danger is a relative thing.”

“But compared to here?”

“Almost every place in the world is more dangerous than here. Living in this incredibly wealthy country dulls people to the realities of other places.”

“And those other places?”

“I’ve been stationed in countries where there was virtually no infrastructure or rules. No effective police, spotty communications, virtually no transportation, no running water, no electricity.” He laughed. “Sort of like it is right here, right
now
.”