between them, one little hand in David's hand. David had deposited half the check in Irene's bank account for her trip to India, and now his twenty-five hundred would have to be used for three of them instead of only one. The only thing that comforted him was the.22-caliber handgun nestling in its leather glove, the glove in his jacket pocket. The East of America had too many robbers and muggers, and he had Irene and Campbell to protect.
To Jatney's surprise they had a wonderful time the first four days of leisurely driving. Campbell and Irene slept in the van and he slept outside in the open fields until they hit cold weather in Arkansas; they had swung south to avoid the cold as long as possible. Then for a couple of nights they used a motel room, any motel on the route. It was in Kentucky that they first ran into trouble.
The weather had turned cold and they decided to go into a motel for the night. The next morning they drove into town for breakfast in a caf6/newspaper store.
The counterman was about Jatney's age and very alert. In her egalitarian California way, Irene struck up a conversation with him. She did so because she was impressed by his quickness and efficiency. She often said it was such a pleasure to watch people who were truly expert at the work they did, no matter how menial. She said this was a sign of good karma.
Jatney never really understood the word 'karma.'
But the counterman did. He too was a follower of the Eastern religions, and he and Irene got into a long and involved discussion. Campbell became restless, so Jatney paid the bill and took him outside to wait. It was a good fifteen minutes before Irene came out.
'He's a really sweet guy,' Irene said. 'His name is Christopher, but he calls himself Krish.'
Jatney was annoyed by the wait but said nothing. On the walk back to the motel Irene said, 'I think we should stay here for a day. Campbell needs a rest.'
They spent the rest of the morning and afternoon shopping, though Irene bought very little. They had a very early supper in a Chinese restaurant.
The plan was to go to bed early so that they could travel east before dark.
But they had been in their motel room for only a few hours when Irene suddenly said she was going to take a little drive through town and maybe pick up a bite to eat. She left, and David played checkers with the little boy, who beat him in every game. The child was an amazing checkers player. Irene had taught him when he was only two years old. At one point Campbell raised his elegant head with the broad brow and said, 'Uncle Jat, don't you like to play checkers?'
It was nearly midnight before Irene returned. The motel was on a little high ground, and Jatney and Campbell were looking out the window when the familiar van pulled into the parking lot, followed by another car.
Jatney was surprised to see Irene get out of the passenger side, since she always insisted on driving. From the driver's side the young counterman called Krish emerged and gave her the car keys. She gave a sisterly kiss in return. Two young men got out of the other car, and she gave them sisterly little pecks. Irene started walking toward the motel entrance and the three young men put their arms around one another and serenaded her. 'Good night, Irene,' they sang, 'Good night, Irene.' When Irene entered the motel room and still heard them singing, she gave David a brilliant smile.
'They were so interesting to talk to I just forgot the time,' Irene said, and she went to the window to wave to them.
'I guess I'll have to go and tell them to stop,' David said. Through his mind ran flashes of him firing the handgun in his pocket. He could see the bullets flying through the night into their brains. 'Those guys are much less interesting when they sing. '
'Oh, you couldn't stop them,' Irene said. She picked up Campbell. Holding him in her arms, she bowed to acknowledge their homage and then pointed to the child. The singing stopped immediately. And then David could hear the car moving out of the parking lot.
Irene never drank. But she sometimes took drugs. Jatney could always tell. She had such a lovely brilliant smile on drugs. She had smiled that way one night when he had been waiting up for her in Santa Monica. In that dawn light he had accused her of being in someone else's bed. She had replied calmly, 'Somebody had to fuck me, you won't.'
Christmas Eve they were still on the road and slept in another motel. It was cold now. They would not celebrate the Christmas season; Irene said that Christmas was false to the true spirit of religion. David did not want to bring back memories of an earlier, more innocent life. But he did buy Campbell a crystal ball with snow flurries, over the objections of Irene. Early Christmas morning he rose and watched the two of them sleep.
He always carried the handgun in his jacket now, and he touched the soft leather of its glove. How easy and kind it would be to kill them both, he thought.
Three days later they were in the nation's capital. They had a fair amount of time until the inauguration. David made up the itinerary of all the sights they would see. And then he made a map of the inaugural parade. They would all go see Francis Kennedy take the oath of office as President of the United States.
BOOK VI
INAUGURATION DAV
CHAPTER
26
ON INAUGURATION DAY, the President of the United States, Francis Xavier
Kennedy, was awakened at dawn by Jefferson to be groomed and dressed. The early gray light was actually cheery because a snowstorm had begun. Huge white flakes covered the city of Washington, and in the bulletproof tinted windows of his dressing room Francis Kennedy saw himself imprisoned in those snowflakes, as if he were imprisoned in a glass ball. He said to Jefferson, 'Will you be in the parade?'
'No, Mr. President,' Jefferson said. 'I have to hold the fort here in the
White House.' He adjusted Kennedy's tie. 'Everybody is waiting for you downstairs in the Red Room.'
When Kennedy was ready, he shook Jefferson's hand. 'Wish me luck,' he said. And Jefferson went with him to the elevator. Two Secret Service men took him down to the ground floor.
In the Red Room they were all waiting for him. The Vice President, Helen Du Pray, was stunningly regal in white satin. The President's staff were reflections of the President, all in formal clothes. Arthur Wix, Oddblood Gray, Eugene Dazzy and Christian Klee formed their own little circle, solemn and tense with the importance of the day. Francis Kennedy smiled at them. His Vice President and these four men were his family.
When President Francis Xavier Kennedy stepped out of the White House, he was astonished to see a vast sea of humanity that filled every thoroughfare, that seemed to blot out all the majestic buildings, overflowed all the TV vans and media people behind their special ropes and marked grounds. He had never seen anything like it, and he called to Eugene Dazzy, 'How many are out there?'
Dazzy said, 'A hell of a lot more than we figured. Maybe we need a battalion of marines from the naval base to help us control traffic.'
'No,' the President said. He was surprised that Dazzy had responded to his question as if the multitudes were a danger. He thought it a triumph, a vindication of everything he had done since the tragedies of last Easter Sunday.
Francis Kennedy had never felt surer of himself. He had foreseen everything that would happen, the tragedies and the triumphs. He had made the right decisions and won his victory. He had vanquished his enemies.
He looked over at the huge crowd and felt an overwhelming love for the people of America. He would deliver them from their suffering, cleanse the earth itself.
