out of the way against the chain link fence. The central building with the flagpole was directly opposite the gate. It was clearly the administrative place. The suits continued in and out of there. The other two buildings seemed to be a barracks and maybe a supply warehouse. A couple of green Jeeps and a black Lincoln stretch limo with tinted windows were parked in front of the administration building. They all had Maine plates. I noted the plate numbers.
As I watched, a man in starched fatigues and wearing a pistol belt strolled slowly along the fence. There was a radio on his belt on the hip opposite the pistol, and a microphone clipped to his epaulets. At the corner he stopped and spoke to another guy with the same equipment who had obviously walked down his length of fence. One of them leaned his hand against the chain link as they talked. Which meant the fence was not electrified. The other two lengths of fence were hidden by the buildings. I watched as my guy turned smartly and strolled back along his fence and, sure enough, met another guard at the other corner. Being a trained observer I concluded that the perimeter was guarded by four men. I watched some more. The guards went back and forth. After about a half hour a squad of four other men in starched fatigues came out of the far building under the direction of another guy and they marched out to change the guard. I sat some more. In the next hour and a half I counted at least twenty men in starched fatigues and sidearms either guarding the perimeter or marching about in the compound in something resembling close order drill. My left knee was beginning to hurt where I’d gotten shot once. I wasn’t sure I could stand the excitement of another guard change, so I climbed back down the tree and stood and stretched out my knee a little. Hawk tilted his head back and looked at me.
“So, Hawkeye,” he said. “What’d you see.”
“Looks like something between an IBM retreat and Parris Island,” I said.
“Got a perimeter guard,” Hawk said.
“I counted about twenty guys in fatigues and sidearms,” I said.
“Don’t seem necessary for a bunch of pleasant umbrella stand makers,” Hawk said.
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t.”
“We tough enough to go in there and roust twenty guys?” Hawk said.
“Of course we are,” I said.
“How ‘bout stupid enough?” Hawk said.
“Sure, but then what? I don’t even know what we’re looking for in there.”
“Same thing we looking for when we drove way the fuck up here,” Hawk said. “We trying to figure out the connection between Amir and this outfit.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “And we’re doing that because we think it might help us figure out who threw Prentice Lamont out the window.”
“Exactly,” Hawk said.
“Shooting it out with twenty guys may not be the best way to get that information.”
“Specially if only one guy’s got the information and you kill him.”
“A definite possibility.”
“Or we might both get shot to pieces and then the thing wouldn’t ever get solved,” Hawk said.
“Unlikely,” I said. “But not impossible.”
We both looked at the gleam of the white cinder block buildings through the lacy distraction of the trees. The high locust whine was so much a part of the woods that it had become nearly inaudible. The bittersweet smell of the woods was stronger as the sun had gotten higher.
“I think guile is still our best option,” I said.
“So what the guileful thing to do?” Hawk said.
“Go back home, maybe have a couple beers, and think about it,” I said.
“Works for me,” Hawk said.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Heading back to the car we were maybe twenty yards from the highway when we both stopped short at the same time.
“You smell it?” I said.
“Cigarette,” Hawk said.
I nodded. Hawk took his elephant gun from the shoulder holster and stuck it into his belt at the small of his back. He shucked off the shoulder rig and dropped it and moved off to the right. I went left. We emerged onto the highway bracketing the car, Hawk ten yards beyond it, me ten yards this side. There were four of them leaning on the car. They had on uniforms and carried side arms. An unmarked blue Jeep was parked behind Hawk’s Jag. I sauntered toward them with a big friendly smile.
“Hi,” I said. “You waiting for me?”
One of them turned toward me. He was still wearing his hornrimmed glasses and it still made him look smart. Of course, appearances can be deceiving.
“This your car?” he said. After he said it, he stared at me and I could see recognition begin to form behind his lenses.
“Actually it belongs to my Negro friend,” I said.
They had not planned on being approached by two people at the same time from opposite directions. They should have divided the chore. Two look at me. Two look at Hawk. But they hadn’t decided in advance, and therefore didn’t know, which two should look at whom. Training is good, but sometimes innovation is better.
