the concern in Phillip’s face.
“It’s all right, Phil,” Louis said quietly.
“I’m worried about you,” Phillip said.
“I’m being careful.”
Phillip looked at him for a long time then took a final deep drag on his cigarette.
Louis watched the cigarette glow. He was struck suddenly by how different Phillip’s way of smoking was from Gibralter’s. Phillip’s style was deliberate, almost sensual, as though he was surrendering. Gibralter attacked the tobacco, as if he knew it was the enemy.
“My chief smokes unfiltered Camels,” Louis said.
“A real man’s smoke,” Phillip said with a dry smile.
Louis smiled. “Well, that’s Gibralter. A real man.”
“You like him?”
“Well, he’s not exactly likeable. He’s an enigma. Ego the size of Lake Michigan. Smart, strict. Probably ex- Marine and probably over-educated for the job.”
“Over-educated. Sounds like somebody else I know,” Phillip said with a small smile.
Louis let the remark pass.
“Your chief,” Phillip said after a moment, “is he the kind who takes care of his men?”
Louis frowned slightly, unsure of what Phillip was asking. “He’s a very dedicated cop,” he answered finally.
“But to what?” Phillip said. “Police departments are a lot like the military, Louis. The men who run them understand that sometimes there must be casualties.”
Louis knew where Phillip was going with this and he tensed.
“This man Gibralter, is he taking care of his men?”
“There’s not much he can do. We have to do our job.”
Phillip paused. He tossed the cigarette into the snow. It fizzed and died.
“I had a C.O.,” Phillip said. “His name was Cliff McInerney. We called him Captain Mac. We were driving north near Yongsan and ran into heavy fire.”
“Is that where you were wounded?” Louis asked.
Phillip nodded. “We were pinned down for two days. Lost three men. Finally, Captain Mac decided he wasn’t going to wait any longer and tried to get us out. He led our squad through heavy fire. At one point he went back, running across this open field to rescue Hooper who went down in a trench. I thought he was nuts.”
Phillip looked at Louis. “Maybe he was. But he got us out of there when we were all sure we were going to die.”
“What happened to him?” Louis asked.
“He was killed. We were walking through the village. A grenade came out of nowhere. He jumped on it to protect two men walking ahead.”
Louis watched the subtle shift of emotions play over Phillip’s face.
“A leader believes in himself,” Phillip said. “But more important, he gives others the courage to believe in themselves.”
Louis lifted the empty glass and looked at it, suddenly wishing there was more in it.
Phillip gently took the glass from his hand then suddenly grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close.
“Please be careful, Louis,” he said.
CHAPTER 13
The sky was the color of sheet metal. Louis looked out at the low-lying clouds then reached down and turned the cruiser’s heater up another notch.
“Smells like it’s gonna snow again,” Jesse said.
“Which is why I wanted to get an earlier start,” Louis said grimly.
Jesse sighed. “I told you, man, we already talked to these assholes.”
“You didn’t show them the card. Maybe they know something.”
“Trust me, they’re a bunch of burn-outs. They don’t know what year it is.”
“I thought you’d be glad to get away from the damn case files for a while.”
Jesse reached for his thermos. “Oh yeah, like this isn’t a waste of time.”
They continued up Highway 33 in stony silence. Louis resisted his urge to lay into Jesse. He had rousted him out of bed with a phone call at five that morning, telling him they had to be on the road by six. It was an hour’s drive to Lake Orion, and who knew how long it would take after that to find the veterans’ camp?
Louis glanced down at the directions Ollie had scribbled on a scrap of paper. Ollie had warned him the place was tough to find. He had also filled Louis in on what happened the first time the vets were questioned. The day after Pryce’s murder, Gibralter had ordered a sweep of all “organized local weirdos.” It had netted some local members of the Michigan Militia Corps, two broken-down renegades from the Aryan Nation, a handful of vegetarian survivalists stockpiling canned goods in anticipation of a nuclear holocaust, and a local nut who once used a sledgehammer to bash all the parking meters along Main Street.
It had also turned up seven veterans who were living on a tract of land sixty miles north of Loon Lake. The vets were brought into the station and “questioned extensively,” Ollie said. Gibralter had been unable to get a search warrant for the camp. But, Ollie told Louis, Gibralter remained suspicious that Pryce’s killer was among the seven men living in the woods.
Louis gazed out at the dense forest they were about to enter. The road seemed to be narrowing into a tunnel of gray clouds and hulking pines. He had a sinking feeling about this whole thing, that there was no way these men would talk. But after what Phillip Lawrence had told him yesterday about the emblems, he had to try.
“Turn here,” Louis said, spotting a small side road.
“Where?” Jesse asked.
“Stop! Right here. See the road?”
“Road? What fucking road?” Jesse shook his head. “We’ll never get up there without chains.
“Try,” Louis said.
The cruiser’s wheels spun on the unplowed road, making slow progress through the thick trees. About two miles in, they came to a gate that ran across the road. There was a large sign that said NO TRESPASSING. PRIVATE PROPERTY.
“Now what?” Jesse asked.
“Now we walk,” Louis said, getting out of the car.
The road wended its way through the thick pines for another half mile. Finally, they could see the dark outlines of a building ahead. As they drew closer, the details of the compound came into focus. There were at least four well-constructed but spartan buildings, each with its own large generator. One sported a huge satellite dish on its roof. There was a shed with two Jeeps parked in front. The smell of a fire hung in the damp air.
The quiet was broken by the sharp barking of dogs.
“Jesus, those fuckers better be chained,” Jesse said, his hand going to his holster.
They heard a door slam. A dark figure came out of the nearest building. He stood looking out at them. Louis could see the slender outline of a rifle slung across the man’s back.
“Let me do the talking,” Louis said quietly as they walked toward the man.
“Better keep it to two syllables or less,” Jesse muttered.
