seemed to think that if they repeated the message often enough, we’d all start to believe it.
The police and federal marshals’ day shift had clocked on hours ago, but the overnight guys had hung around to watch the finale and they were starting to get a little bored now. If Tony was right, most of the Davidians were dead. So why weren’t the FBI masking up teams and sending them in to look for survivors? I didn’t have much sympathy for the adults, but the kids hadn’t asked to be there.
An angry yell came from near the command tent. I jumped to my feet to get a better view.
Tony and Bastard were squaring up to each other. Tony was almost jumping up at Bastard’s face, pushing him back with his hands as the FBI man tried to pass. A group had gathered. But I knew none of them was going to intervene. Bastard’s body language said he was going to take care of this piece of business himself.
10
I jumped off the trailer and ran towards them. Tony was certainly making me earn my money today. I barged though the gathering crowd.
‘Tony, calm down, mate. It’s all right.’
His head didn’t move. His eyes, red and swollen, were still fixed on Bastard.
‘It’s not all right.’ He jerked a finger over at the buildings. ‘Do you know what’s gone on over there?
I was about to answer when I realized it wasn’t me he was talking to. ‘They will have died horrendously. That gas is the same stuff they use on death row. Did you know that?’
Bastard couldn’t be bothered to answer, but Tony wasn’t going to give him the chance. ‘Do you know why they strap men down before they press the button?’
There wasn’t a flicker in Bastard’s eyes. But everybody else’s looked at Tony for the answer.
‘Because it makes the muscles contract so violently they break every bone in the victim’s body.
Bastard stared blankly into Tony’s eyes. ‘Hey, we’re all just here to get the job done. What’s your fucking problem?’
Tony took a step closer. ‘I’ll tell you what my problem is. The space is too confined. You’re killing them!’
Bastard no longer bothered to put the brakes on the smile that was spreading across his face. He just turned to me, and when he spoke it was so calm it was scary. ‘Tell your fag friend that we are dealing with some very bad people here. They are religious fanatics who’ve stockpiled—’
‘Fanatics? The little girl we heard couldn’t have been more than five years old!’ Flecks of spittle flew from Tony’s mouth. ‘What are you doing? What is going on? This is madness! This is murder!’
Bastard stared down at him as he wiped his face. ‘Murder? Well, chew on this, fag. It’s your goddam gas, so I guess that makes you an accessory.’
Tony stepped back, stunned.
Bastard revelled in the sight. ‘Kinda catches in the back of your throat, don’t it?’ He looked up to share the moment with the crowd. ‘Hey, just like that gas of yours.’
That did it for Tony. He pulled his hand back and bunched it, but Bastard was too quick for him. His own fist connected with Tony’s chest. As he pulled back for another punch, I moved behind him, grabbed his arm and pulled, adding momentum to the swing. He did a 180 on the spot.
Bastard was quick to square up to me as I stood my ground instead of following through with some punches to put him down. It was the right thing to do; he hadn’t attacked me, after all. He had lost face, and needed to reassert; that was OK, I understood that, I couldn’t let that happen. He was a big man, and if one of those fists made contact I was going to need one of those non-existent ambulances. But it was too late for me to worry about that now.
Bastard started towards me, just as a shout went up from one of the vehicles, half in shock, half in celebration. ‘Fire! Fire!’
Bastard turned his head. I grabbed Tony. ‘Get the kit together, we’re fucking off!’
Four or five columns of smoke started to rise from the compound as we ran. Even if there had been a fire crew in place, the combination of the heat of the day, the wind and the gas — that would now have dried to a fine powder — made the chances of putting it out next to zero.
As if on cue, a policeman jumped down from his wagon, ran a few metres towards the compound, then turned back to face the crowd. He unfurled an ATF flag for all to see. ‘It’s a potbellied stove!’ he half shouted, half laughed. ‘Open it up, let the fuckers burn!’
He waved the flag and scores of men hooted and hollered. In the background, I heard a barrel organ. The fairground was sparking up.
PART TWO
1
The sun had been chargrilling the top of my foot, but it took me a long time to notice. The sand I was gazing at was just too blindingly white, the sea too dazzlingly blue.
I pulled it back under the table, and leaned forward to suck up the last of my milkshake. I always made a gurgling noise when I got to the dregs, on principle. Not that anyone at the Surfers’ Club seemed to mind. They were too busy surfing-and-turfing their way through the kind of mammoth lunches Silky and I had just put away.
While I waited for her to come back with a couple of ice creams, I had one last slurp and got back to admiring the view. Sun, sea, sand, and thousands of miles of bush behind me; coming here had definitely been the right call.
She returned with two cones, the contents of which were already dripping down her hands. I got the chocolate one.
‘I cannot believe you were going to go round America instead.’ Silky licked tutti-frutti off her free hand and sat down. ‘I just saw George Bush on TV. He says Iran and Syria are next on the list. I do not understand that man. What is the matter with him?’
She came from Berlin. I had known her for three months, and her accent still reminded me of the black- and-white war films I used to watch as a kid.
‘I mean, why doesn’t he just talk to them?’ She hooked her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear so it didn’t fall across her face, before bending down to give some serious attention to her cone. ‘I have been to Syria — they’re nice people.’
‘Your fault for looking at the TV.’ I sat up. ‘I don’t even read the newspapers now. It’s all bullshit. And when you’ve got a view like that,’ I nodded in the direction of the incoming waves, ‘what more do you need?’
Her head tilted sharply and her blue eyes speared me over the top of her sunglasses. ‘After last night, you still have to ask this?’
I grinned. ‘The ocean will still be here tomorrow. But will Silky? One can never tell with you hippies.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Just because George Bush keeps adding to his list, Nick, doesn’t mean that you have to keep cutting from yours…’
‘That’s me. Hand luggage only.’
