Called his name.
Wesley. The monster who signed his suicide note with a threat—
'Where is he?' I asked the monster.
'Out there.'
'Can I find him?'
'He can find you,' the monster said, in his dead-machine voice. 'Fire works.'
I knew. He wasn't talking about the Fourth of July.
126
A HAND on my chest. Foggy voice. A strangled scream. Blossom's face inches from mine, the pink glow gone dark. My fingers locked around her throat. The soft flesh turned to acid— I whipped my hand away.
Later, on the couch, her head in my lap. Cold water dripping onto my thighs from the ice pack she was holding against her throat.
'I never saw anything move so fast. It was like a steel vise…' Her voice was raw, raspy.
'Don't talk.'
'Burke…'
'I'm sorry. I was somewhere else. Didn't know it was you.'
'It's okay. I thought you were asleep. I just wanted you to come to bed.'
'Close your eyes, Blossom. Go to sleep.'
She found my hand, separated the fingers like she was counting them. Put my thumb in her mouth, curled onto her side, closed her eyes.
I felt the cold go through me, reaching where the ice pack couldn't touch.
127
VIRGIL AND I spotted the Blazer in the parking lot. Matson was sitting in his spot. Two guys with him. Looked like he did: mean-eyed, blotchy-faced, chinless. The Master Race.
We sat down.
The fashion show went on behind us.
Matson leaned forward. 'You got yourself quite a background, friend.'
'Satisfied?'
'Yeah. What was it like?'
'What was what like?'
'Africa. I thought of doing that kind of work myself. Merc stuff. Pay's good?'
'Good enough.'
'Must be heaven. Killin' niggers and gettin' paid for it too.'
One of his boys laughed. I swiveled my head slowly, catching his eyes. Weasel. He stopped laughing, waiting for his cue, not knowing the script.
'You go by Mitchell Sloane?' Matson asked. So he wrote down the Lincoln's license number. Or Revis was more helpful to him than just running my prints.
'I go by a lot of things.'
'Yeah. Yeah, I understand. Where'd you hear I was in the market for some hardware?'
'Around. I heard you were a serious man. Had serious business.'
He nodded sagely, basking in the praise. 'That's the truth. Lots of groups like ours around, but we're the real thing. Everybody knows that. It ain't just the niggers, you know. Maybe it ain't as bad as Jew York yet around here, but we're workin' on it. Got homos in the government, Jew-bastard IRS on our necks, no room for a white man to breathe anymore.'
'That's what I sell. Breathing room.'
'I got you. You know, a nigger once came in here. Right in the fuckin' door. Like he owned the place. Lickin' his ape lips at the girls. Now that don't happen no more. The word's out. We've been growing. Slow but steady. Have to be real careful, who you let in.'
'Yeah, the feds are everywhere.'
'Undesirables too. You hear about Patterson's crew, down in Crown Point? They had a guy in there, ranking member and all. Turned out he was a Jew. Patterson's a fuckin' fool— he shouldn't be in a leadership position in the movement.'
'How's he supposed to know, who's a Jew?'
'There's ways. We got our eye on them. On some of them. Send 'em a message one of these days.'
Virgil watched, bored.
The Nazi's voice droned on.
White Noise.
I cut in at an angle, merging with his rap. Talked his talk. Guns and blood. Freedom for the Race. I let him bargain me into a half dozen Uzis, five grand for the package.
'You use these, the cops'll think it was some nigger dope dealers, right?'
'Yeah!'
'COD.'
'Deal. I'll meet you right here on…'
'I look stupid to you, I'm gonna ride around with a truckful of a life sentence?'
'The cops won't bother this place.'
'It's not the locals I'm worried about.'
'So where, then?'
'Chicago. I got a warehouse in Uptown. You drive in, drive out.'
His eyes went crafty with the chance to impress his punks. 'No way, partner. Not across a state line.'
I pretended to give it some thought. 'Okay. It'll take me a few days to get the pieces together from my source. Give me a number, I'll call you. We'll make the exchange on the road. Wherever you say.'
'I'll give you our Hot Line. When you call, you get our message. The Race Word. There ain't no beep, but it's an answering machine. When you hear a voice saying White Power! that's the sign-off. Just leave your message after that, I'll get back to you.'
'Good enough.'
The bouncer's eyes tracked me and Virgil out the door.
128
I HANDED BLOSSOM the pistol. 'You better hang on to this, find a safe place for it.' Thinking of Revis.
'Okay, boss.'
'Be careful with it— it's loaded.'
She popped the cylinder, pointed the barrel at the ceiling as the cartridges dropped into her palm. 'I know about guns. From the Army. M-16, M-60, grenades…we even practiced with LAWs.'
'You were in the Army?'
'Don't look so surprised, baby. They paid for medical school. It was a good deal. And Mama didn't leave us a fortune. Violet and I agreed, we'd save the money for Rose. Pay her way through school.'
I held her against me until she stopped trembling.
129
LATER, THE PHONE RANG. Answering machine picked up.
Virgil's voice: 'He went to the same place. Alone.'
