while Tommy Carpenter manacled his hands behind his back with his own cuffs. Tommy was also dressed again by now, and being fast and serious. Mackey didn’t look as good in a uniform as Devers; even though it was the right size for him, it gave an impression of having been made for a slightly different species of creature, like the overalls on the monkey in the circus who rides the tricycle.
Parker looked at his watch; they still had about four minutes. He said to Mackey, “Everything all right?”
“Just fine,” Mackey said. “This guy’s sensible, you can tell by looking at him.”
What Parker could tell by looking at him was that the second trooper was even madder than the first. But he was controlling it, and he looked smart enough to go on controlling it. So long as everybody stayed alert and didn’t give him any openings.
Devers was bringing the first trooper around to join them, and Noelle was tossing the blanket in the car. Then she shut the passenger door, and hurried around to the driver’s side to get behind the wheel and take the Chevrolet away from there. Her part of the job was finished; after unloading the Chevy, she’d wait up in Springfield with the Volkswagen Microbus for Tommy to rejoin her when everything was over with.
”Done,” Tommy said, and stepped away from the second trooper. He moved over to take care of the first trooper the same way.
Parker walked over to the second trooper, who looked at him and said, “You’d be smart to give this up right now.” Parker ignored that. He said, “What’s your name?”
“Trooper Jarvis.”
“First name.”
“Robert.”
“They call you Bob?”
Trooper Jarvis’ eyes narrowed. “Some people do,” he said, being reluctant about it.
“All right, Bob. Take it easy.” Parker walked over to the first trooper, as Tommy finished handcuffing him. “What’s your name?”
This one was younger, and was still feeling more insulted than angry. And also more insulted than scared, which might be trouble. It was better to deal with a man who understood the situation. Instead of which, this one was getting on his high horse. After a quick glance over at Trooper Jarvis, he said angrily, “You don’t need my name.”
Time was getting tight. This one would follow Trooper Jarvis’ lead, so the hell with him. Keep Jarvis reined in and you’d have them both. “That’s all right,” Parker said. He motioned with his revolver. “Start walking that way.”
“Maybe I’d rather not.”
A mule, and stupid. Parker was deciding whether to use words or the gun butt when Tommy Carpenter kicked the trooper in the rump hard enough to make him hop, and said, “Move your ass, or I’ll whip it into the next county.”
Country boys understood one another. Glaring around in all directions, the anonymous trooper started to move.
Now Tommy led the way, with Jarvis and the other trooper behind him, and Parker bringing up the rear. Back at the U-turn, Noelle was driving off, accelerating the Chevrolet like a stock-car racer, while Mackey and Devers were getting into the Highway Patrol car. Mackey would drive, and Devers would operate the radio.
Ahead of Parker was their other car, a two-year-old Dodge sedan, also equipped with a police radio, on which they’d heard these troopers arranging when and where to meet the art convoy. Griffith’s first ten-thousand-dollar payment had bought this car and its radio, and the old Chevrolet, and the State Police uniforms, and the Reo cab waiting up ahead, and everything else—with a few dollars left over.
The Dodge was a four-door, so there was no trouble getting the troopers into the back seat. They sat awkwardly, because of their hands behind their backs, but there was room for them to make themselves fairly comfortable.
Tommy drove, and Parker sat beside him, half turned and watching the two troopers, his revolver showing atop the seat-back. He didn’t expect to have to shoot anybody, and didn’t want to shoot anybody, but it was a good idea to remind them both—particularly the one without a name—that the possibility was still there.
The Dodge had been left on the center grass strip of the highway, just beyond the U-turn, out of sight of the troopers when they arrived. It was facing toward the U-turn, the same direction that the paintings would be coming. Once everybody was in place in the car, Tommy took right off, driving in the same style as Noelle. When they passed the U-turn, all Parker could see was a State Police car with two troopers inside it.
They’d traveled another mile or two down the road when the police radio began to talk. A somewhat hoarse voice said, “Five-six-two?”
“We’re here.” That was Stan Devers’ voice. “Is that you I see coming?”
Tommy, hunched over the wheel of the Dodge, grinned and said, “Right on time.”
Parker nodded, but kept his eye on the back seat, where both troopers were tensing up a little, particularly the one without a name. They would finally be understanding what was happening now, and one or the other of them just might decide to be moronic. While the radio kept talking in two voices, saying idle things while the switch of responsibility was being made, Parker said over it, “Bob, why don’t you talk to your partner? Explain to him how it would be better to stay alive and hope to be a witness at my trial.”
“Neither one of us is stupid,” Trooper Jarvis said coldly. “We know when to bide our time.” And beside him, the anonymous trooper could be seen to relax and give up his dreams of kicking Tommy in the head, opening the door with his teeth, and dashing to the nearest headquarters for help.
“That’s good,” Parker said, being careful to talk exclusively to Jarvis. There was no point tensing the other one up again.
“The only question is,” Jarvis said, “how stupid you people are.”
