“Or some cowboy. Lots of cowboys in Texas.”
“Now, Richard, what are you looking for?”
“Man with a gun.”
“And what might the signs be?”
“Ah—” Richard struggled to remember.
“He'll have a coat on, no matter how hot it is. And he'll be very conscious of the coat. He'll always be adjusting it, you know, pulling it tight to keep it from falling open. You really think we may run into a man with a gun? Remember when that crazy guy went into Luby's? There were a hundred people in there and not one of them had a gun.”
“We may not be so lucky. You going to see a bulge?”
“A bulge. Maybe a—”
“No, Richard, goddamn, don't you remember nothing?
These new holsters are real slick in holding the piece in tight to the body. In the old days, you could always see a bulge. It's all changed now with this here ballistic nylon, plus all the cops wearing flat autos instead of rounded wheel guns You probably be up against a boy with a Beretta or a Glock or a SIG. Rangers carry SIGs, Texas highway patrol, Berettas. You got to read his body. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” said Richard disconsolately, feeling very much like a teenage boy who had disappointed his father.
“And what else?”
“Ah—what else?”
“What else.”
“I don't know—”
“You dumbhead. It may be a bitch! Yeah, used to be damn few women working police and fewer by God of them packing guns.
Now you got a goddamn one-in-five chance it'll be a woman. Now if there's an undercover or plainclothes or off-duty cop in there, you got one chance in five it's a woman. Could be a woman with kids, woman at a table with her daddy or her old man, could be a nigger woman, a Mex, anything. You read the goddamned body, look for the way they carry their hands, the way they don't swing about fast because it might cause the coat to fluff up, you got that?”
“Yes sir.”
“And if you see it and she goes for it when the job is coming down, Richard, what's your assignment?”
“I have to shoot.”
“Yes sir, like I told you; gun out front, you look at the sights, you LOOK AT THE SIGHTS, and you fire fast, three times. You put her down, Richard, or she gonna put us down. You think you can't do it? Think on this: I get hit, O’Dell may go hog wild with that AR. He could make that goddamned Luby's thing look like Sunday school. You want that on your conscience?”
“No sir.”
“No sir. Quick in, quick out, nobody gets hurt, we go home rich.”
They were in downtown Altus now, driving through the dusty streets. It was a low old town, with no buildings over three stories, lots of closed-up storefronts, a general store, a courthouse and city hall that looked as if plush times had passed by many a year ago, the usual statue of Will Rogers, who never met a man he didn't like, a few benches. But Lamar didn't go for it.
“Too open. Pull 'round the other side of town, we'll find something with a bit more privacy.”
They cut through what passed for the Altus suburbs, little houses swaddled under wilted trees, and soon enough hit the commercial strip, U.S. . 283 running north.
“Yeah, this is more like it. Pull in there.”
Richard pulled into a strip mall crowded with cars. Food Lion was the big draw; there was also a yogurt shop, a county library, a Rexall, a movie complex with five tiny ratty little theaters, and a sporting goods store.
“Ooo, movies, ain't that a treat. Pull in here, Richard.”
“We're going to the movies?”
“No, Richard, we are not going to the movies. Richard, sometimes I wish I'd left you in that goddamn cell for the niggers. They'da been more happy, I'da been more happy, and hell, boy, maybe you 'da been more happy.”
They sat in silence. In awhile a car pulled in, and a father and son got out and went up to the box office. The father bought two tickets and they went in.
“Now ain't that a gift. See, Richard, he'll be in there two hours.
When he comes out, it'll take him at least a half an hour to figure out that he didn't forget where he parked his car, but that somebody stole it. It'll take the cops, even in a hick burg like this, another fifteen, twenty minutes to come on by to write the goddamned report. By that time, we'll have that sucker wearing a different color and new plates.”
Slowly, Richard drove over to the car, but Lamar said, 'We got some time, you just cruise a bit. We got a last thing to talk about.”
Oh, Christ, thought Richard.
“You got one other job.”
“What is it, Lamar?”
“Now, say something goes wrong. I catch some shit. I don't make it out. Or I get hit bad and die in the car, bleed to death maybe. The law is closing in, it's all gone down, it's turned to yellow cat shit.”
“Lamar!”
“It could happen. This is risky business, sometimes the craziest things fuck you up. You listening? You can see it in your magi-nationt' All too easily. Richard felt like crying.
“I saved your ass from the niggers, I got you out, I got you this new life. Richard, if they catch you, you can tell them you was forced in all of this. Richard, you might even be a hero in all this, you could tell them all the bad things we done. The Stepfords will say you didn't do nothing, that goddamn lucky-ass John Wayne-looking Smokey sergeant will say you didn't shoot nobody. Hell, they'll make a movie with what's his fucking name, Richard Gere, that the one, he's playing you. But you owe me one thing, Richard.”
“Yes, Lamar.”
“You still got that Smokey's gun? You ain't lost it or nothing?”
“No, Lamar. I have it. It's back at Ruta Beth's under the mattress I sleep on.” He hated it. It was a big silver thing, hard and slightly greasy. He was supposed to dry-fire it a hundred times a night to develop strength in his hands, but he could never pull the trigger more than twenty-five times before it hurt too much.
“Oh,'you don't have it now? Great, Richard. Well, never mind. If it goes to the skunks on us, Richard, and old Lamar's been turned to meat by some state cop with a shotgun full of Number Four, you wait till O’Dell's head is turned, then you put that gun muzzle behind his ear and you pull the trigger. That's the sweetest thing could happen to O’Dell if I'm not here.”
“I-I—I thought you loved O’Dell.”
“I do. Too much to want to have to think about what would happen to him if I weren't there to watch out for the boy. Who would care for him? Who would explain things to him? There ain't no mercy in this world for a big old baby who’s listened to his evil cousin, done harm and can't talk for himself. Who would brush his teeth? Who would make sure he eats? Sometimes, he don't even know enough to eat at all. He's the sorriest soul on earth, truth is. They'd make him into some kind of geek show if I'm dead and they catch him, then they send him to some hole without me to figure out what's going on and to make the way for him. Couldn't have that, Richard. No way. So you got to do what I tell you.”
“Yes, Lamar.”
“I knew I could trust you, Richard. Okay, drop me here.”
Richard pulled over and Lamar slipped out, took a quick look-see in each direction, then smooth and unruffled as could be, just bent to the car door and slipped a long, flat piece of metal down the window shaft.
With a few swift diddles—backward, while looking around with the softest and most relaxed expression on his face—he popped the lock and jumped behind the wheel. In a second, he had it started. He backed out, pulled by Richard with a smile, and headed off on his way.
