Navajo Tribe to follow to Washington. Ambitious, successful John. “It doesn’t sound like John’s sort of thing.”
“It turned out I was wrong about that,” Janet said. “John brought it up. He asked me if I’d like to represent Highhawk.”
Chee made a surprised face.
“I said I didn’t think the firm would like it. He said it would be fine with the firm. It would demonstrate its social consciousness.”
Chee nodded.
“Bullshit,” Janet said. “Social consciousness!”
“Why then?”
Janet started to say something but stopped. She got up again and walked to the window and looked out. Rain streaked the glass. In the office across the street the lights were on. A man was standing at his window looking across at them. Chee noticed he had his coat off. Vest and tie but no coat. It made Chee feel more cheerful.
“You have an idea why, don’t you?” Chee said.
“I don’t know,” Janet said to the window.
“You could guess,” Chee said.
“I can guess,” she agreed. “We have a client. The Sunbelt Corporation. It’s a big factor in real estate development, apartment complexes, that sort of thing. They bought a ranch outside Albuquerque. From what little I know about it, I think they have some sort of big development planned there. She turned away from the window, sat down again, stared at her hands. “Sunbelt is interested in where an interstate bypass is located. It makes a lot of difference in their land values. From what I hear the route Sunbelt favors runs across Tano Pueblo land. The Tano tribal council is split on whether to sell the right of way. The traditionals say no; the progressives see economic development, money.” She glanced up at Chee. “The old familiar story.”
“It does sound familiar,” Chee said. When she got around to it, Janet Pete would explain to him how all this involved Henry Highhawk, and her being followed. It was still raining outside. He looked at the man in the tie and vest in the window across the street who seemed to be looking at him. Funny town, Washington.
“They’re having their tribal election sometime this winter,” Janet said. “Youngish guy named Eldon Tamana is a contender against one of the old guard. Tamana favors granting the right of way.” There was another long pause.
“Good chance of winning?” Chee asked.
“I’d guess not,” Janet said. She turned and looked at him.
“I’m getting to be like a white man,” Chee said. “I’m getting in a hurry for you to tell me what this is all about.”
“I’m not sure I know myself. What I know is that the Smithsonian seems to have in its collection a Tano fetish. It’s a figure representing one of their Twin War Gods. Somehow Tamana found out about it, and I think he knew John at Arizona, and he came to John to talk about how to get it returned.”
Janet hesitated, looked down at her hands.
“I’d think that would be fairly simple,” Chee said. “You’d have the Tano tribal council adopt a resolution asking for it back—or maybe have it come from the elders of the kiva society that owned the fetish. Then you’d ask the Smithsonian to return it, and they’d take it under advisement, and do a study to find out where they’d got their hands on it, and after about three years you’d either get it back or you wouldn’t.”
“I don’t think that would work. Not for Tamana,” Janet said, still studying her hands.
“Oh?”
Janet sighed. “Did I tell you he’s running for a position on the tribal council? I guess he wants to just walk in and present the War God, sort of prove he’s a young man who can get things done while the old-timers just talk about it. I doubt if the council knows the museum has the fetish.”
“Ah,” Chee said. “Are you representing Sunbelt interests in this? I guess Sunbelt has an interest in getting Tamana elected.”
“I’m not,” Janet said. “John is. John is the law firm’s Southwestern expert. He gets the stuff which involves public land policy, Indians, uranium, water rights, all the cases like that.”
“Did he tell you all this?”
“Mostly he was asking me. I’m the firm’s Indian. Indians are supposed to know about Indians. All us redskins are alike. Mother Earth and Father Sun and all that Walt Disney crap.” She smiled a wan smile. “That’s really not fair to John. He’s not as bad as most. Mostly he understands the cultural differences.”
“But you think he’s using you?”
“I think the law firm would like to use me,” Janet corrected. “John works for them. So do I.”
The gray rain outside, the form of the shirt-sleeved man standing in the window across from them, the narrow, shabby room, all of it was depressing Chee. He got off the bed and tried to pull the drape fully across the window. It helped some.
“I’m going to wash up,” Chee said. “Then let’s get out of here and get some coffee somewhere.” He wanted to think about what Janet had told him. He could understand her suspicion. The firm wanted her to represent Highhawk because Highhawk worked in a sensitive position for the museum which held Tano sacred objects. Why? Did they want Highhawk to steal the War Twin? Was Janet, as his lawyer, supposed to talk him into doing that?
“Fine,” Janet said. “We have an appointment with Highhawk. I don’t think I told you about that. Out at his place in Eastern Market.”
There were two bare bulbs above the washbasin mirror, one of which worked. Chee rinsed his face, looked at himself in the mirror, wondered again what the hell he was doing here. But in some subconscious way he knew
