That jerked her line.
'Don't do that. Don't fuck with me, okay? I'm saying it's been a long time, I wasn't thinking of you one way or the other. I wasn't even sure you worked for him. I saw you only once and thought, Is that Donnell? But when I was talking to you on the phone, this morning, I knew. I felt some awfully nice vibes. I wanted to call you right back, really, and say, Hey, let's do this together.'
'Except there was a bomb gonna explode. You said to me I'd hear it in about two minutes. Oh, you were angry, I could hear that too.'
Robin waited a moment, staring at him. 'It didn't go off, did it?'
'Let me tell you what I feel about this, kind of vibes I get,' Donnell said. 'A person that sends bombs, they into heavy shit. What I see you doing, you're thinking how you can use me, being on the inside. See, I understand that. You're not thinking to favor me none 'less it helps you.'
'We both make out,' Robin said. 'You've been with Woody how long, three years? And you're still driving him around. What else--cleaning up after him? You need somebody on the outside.'
'I'm looking at that,' Donnell said, 'as it happens to fit into my plan. But do I need somebody outside known for making bombs? That's the question I ask myself. What happens the police want to talk to you?'
'They already have. It was all show, nothing to it.'
The woman wanting him to think it was nothing. Donnell eased back against the cushion, watching her smoke her cigarette like she was enjoying it.
'They got on you quick, didn't they?'
She said to him, 'They use computers now, Donnell.'
He didn't care for that shitty tone of voice.
'They feed in names and if you know either one of the Ricks brothers and you happen to have a sheet, there it is. The cops talked to you, didn't they? What's the difference?'
'Man, we cool, huh?'
She said, 'I'm not worried. Are you?'
Donnell put his arms on the table again. 'They talk to Skippy?'
'Skippy's well hidden.'
'Bet you thought you were, too, but they come knocking at your door.' Donnell leaned on his arms, getting closer to her. 'I'm gonna tell you something. There's a dude knows what you're doing. The dude even guessed close to what I'm doing. I mean it was barely in my head what I'm doing and the dude knew it.'
She wasn't cool now, unh-unh, staring at him.
'You hear what I'm saying? This dude is on us.'
'Who is he?'
'Name Mankowski.'
That poked her.
She said, 'I know him--he's a cop.' And stubbed her cigarette out, hard.
'Used to be. They suspended his ass, threw him out. But he keeps coming around like this.' Donnell reached across the table, laying the palm of his hand in front of her. 'You know what I'm saying? Comes by with his hand out. The dude's looking to score.'
She was still on the edge of her seat.
'But I met him. He was one of the cops.'
'He show you I.D.?'
'I don't remember.'
' 'Cause he don't have none.'
Confusing the poor woman.
'Then what's he up to?'
'What I'm telling you, girl, the dude's Mr. Shakedown. Was on their rape squad when they threw him out. And before that, guess what he was?'
'You know, at first,' Greta said, 'he doesn't seem like a bad guy. I mean getting arrested for creating an improper diversion. . . . But here's something else.' She turned her head on the pillow to look at Chris. 'You awake?'
'Yeah, I'm reading.'
'Anything good?'
'I think I've found it. The part Robin doesn't want anybody to read.'
'Go ahead, I'll wait.'
'No, tell me about Donnell.'
'Well, he and some other Black Panthers . . .' Greta looked at the sheet resting against her raised knees. 'Here it is . . . were arrested and charged with kidnapping and beating a fellow member of the party. Young guy, eighteen years old. He said they beat him with, quote, blunt instruments and then burned him with cigarette lighters and poured scalding water on him mixed with grease. The victim admitted himself to New Grace and the hospital called the police. Upon being questioned he told them the names of his assailants, including Donnell, saying they had accused him of breaking rule number eight of the Black Panther Party. But then in court, at the pretrial examination, he changed his mind. He said he couldn't identify his assailants and that the police coerced him into signing the complaint. So Donnell and his buddies were released. He was picked up right after that on a federal gun charge, convicted and sent to prison.'
Chris said, 'What's rule number eight?'
Greta looked at the sheet again.
'It's written out. 'No party member will commit any crimes against other party members or black people at all, and cannot steal or take from the people, not even a needle or a piece of thread.' '
They looked at each other, heads turned on their pillows.
'I learn interesting facts in bed with you,' Greta said. 'When I was little, Camille and Robert Taylor and I would get in bed with our dad and he'd read the Bobbsey Twins to us.'
Chris said, 'Now you get the Ricks brothers and other crazies.' He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at Robin's journal. 'Here's the part about Mark, her opinion of him. Robin says, 'Mark digs the sound, the cant, the beat of revolution. He wants to be part of it, but political-science-wise knows next to nothing, zilch. He asks if I believe in the Movement, if I'm a member of the Communist Party. Why sure, Mark. He's either dumb or naive, but, man, is he loaded! I tell him to come by my tent tonight and I'll lay it out for him. So to speak.' '
'Her tent?'
'This is when they were at Goose Lake. The Ricks boys slept in the limo they rented and Robin had her own tent. She says in case she met somebody interesting.'
'Mark wasn't interesting enough?'
'She was using him. Listen.' Chris looked at the journal. 'She finishes with Mark by saying, 'This guy is so impressionable. He's dying to be a star. If you want him, take him.' Then she has written in capital letters, 'TAKE HIM FOR EVERYTHING HE'S GOT!' '
Chris imagined Robin looking through old journals, this one, reliving those days, coming to this page and the words reaching out to grab her. It was worthless as evidence, but it let you look into her head. Chris closed the journal. It was quiet, Greta not saying a word. He was thinking she'd fallen asleep as he turned his head on the pillow, expecting to see her eyes closed.
She was staring at him. She said, 'Is that what I'm doing? With Woody?'
Robin had become the ice woman, blowing her smoke out slow, stroking her braid, a thoughtful act, stroking in time to 'Little Girl Blue' in the background, Robin looking at Donnell with quiet eyes, saying, 'Man, it's been a long time coming.'
'What has?'
'Getting on track and feeling good about it. Yeah, now, finally I can see where we're going.' Saying the words with a slight nod of the head, moving with the mellow beat.
Donnell liked how she did that. The woman was in time and looking good, for her age.
'I'm not saying we don't have a problem,' Robin said. 'If this Polack, Mankowski, is acting officially, and that was the impression I got, then it's a major problem. Not because he's especially bright--I don't think he is. The way he tried to set me up, get me to talk, didn't show a lot of finesse. But if he's got the whole fucking police force
