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A late model touring Automa-II
with a gas-guzzling V-16 ten liter engine eased over the pot holes and speed
bumps of Moyock as though they did not exist, mirroring the passenger's contempt
for the few people in the streets.
"Pull over to that
parking lot, kid," the man on the passenger side told him. Jealous of his
youth, his good looks, and the ease of his rise in the Project's legion of
agents, he cut a bitter look at the younger agent.
The driver's lips drew back
under a militant blond crew cut and bronzed tungsten wire rim glasses. Always
telling him what to do and how to live. Bastinado, that's what the prick was.
The car rolled into a
well-maintained parking lot before a Piggly-Wiggly. The man on the right uttered
a snort of laughter.
"What kind of people
would name a store -"
"I grew up here."
The passenger's mouth snapped
shut. He nodded.
In the store they ask in cool,
low voices if anyone had seen the kid in the pictures they showed.
At the checkout was a platinum
blond chewing gum with all the elegance of a Holstein, her eyes large and blue
and empty. She almost cooed at the passenger when she saw his I.D. This was what
Benny called 'bimbo.'
The driver, young as he was,
suddenly took charge of the situation, hustling his partner out of the store.
The man tore free with a snarl.
The driver cut him off in an
impatient bark of words. "Forget it, Milhouser. I know what happens to
girls like her when you get them alone. Did you rape the Despinado woman before
you wasted her?"
"Up yours, kid. That was
a lifetime ago. Now I'm back in the real world."
Mike Donnelly smiled. He slid
behind the wheel and the car pulled out on to Main.
"I'm going out to the
farm. Want to come?"
"What for?" A sneer
tightening his features. Milhouser glanced at Donnelly
Donnelly shrugged. He took the
man to the motel.
"How you enjoy it,"
Donnelly said with a laugh. "I bet Mama has my room all ready and waiting
for me. Home cooked meals, too. And no cowboy banging the hell out of his old
lady or prize sow at four in the morning."
Milhouser cursed him, but kept
it in low key. He rubbed the place Donnelly's hand took him by the arm. Already
he could feel bruises swelling and blackening. Donnelly was a prize all in
himself. The old lady drafted him in. Donnelly was a crack shot, Donnelly was a
near genius, Donnelly was a marital arts expert, Donnelly was an expert in
psychology, Donnelly was a computer whiz.
Shit.
Milhouser knew how to kill. In
this job, that's all a man needed to know.
Donnelly checked the pen-sized
directional. It was tied in by satellite with the one under the Pentagon. Less
than a mile away, their perp was within range of the 'finger.' A slow grin
spread across the lean face. To be a Spec-Agent was to be a god. Nothing could
escape for long. No Merandizing. No worrying about using a little wood shampoo
if the subject refused to co-operate; and electronic gadgets left no
distinguishing marks. If she saw Mike through his thoughts, Millie wouldn't know
him. She would probably take pleasure in killing him.
"Sit."
Benny winced at the flat
no-nonsense tone of Millie's voice. Long years of experience taught him that
when a woman gets like that, you either do like she says or make like a tree and
leave.
Glum, he squatted on the edge
of the chair. Millie dumped some ice in a bread wrapper and a towel. She thrust
it at Benny's swollen lips.
Holding it to his mouth, Benny
closed his eye. Better, man, if he had a block of ice to sit on. Right now both
balls must be the size of coconuts. Cracked ones, yo. His stomach whimpered.
Benny stifled a groan.
Sopping a rag in cold water
Millie patted at the blood on Benny's face. Wearing a bandana around his neck,
Bull grinned at the faces Benny was making. He should be angry at the way his
mother was making up to this scumbag lecher that ruined his sister, but doubted
if Benny would be chasing Terry Marie again for a while. He came close to
admiration for a moment. Benny's actions while hidden behind that sheet were -
With his sister, dammit. Bull
snarled across the table.
Benny uttered a wordless
growl. One way to feel better would to have ol' Bull unconscious and bleeding on
the floor. When Millie turned to rinse the cloth, Benny mouthed 'Terry Marie'
and snickered. Shaken with rage, Boone half rose from his chair.
"You two stop this,"
Millie demanded. "You should be ashamed, young man," she told Boone.
"You've got a foot on Benny and outweigh him. Besides that, you've spent
months in training at the Academe."
The contempt on Boone's face
was replaced with a sullen look.
"But Mama. He was -"
"I know."
Angry and desperate, the quiet
words seemed to echo through kitchen's high ceiling. A thickening silence
followed. Benny flushed and looked away from her. Into the dead quiet an angry
Millie waved her arms.
"I know, son. I know. I
don't approve. I can't. But he -" Millie covered her face with her hands
and rocked slowly on her chair. She mourned for what might have been, wondering
where she had gone wrong. "Terry Marie is an adult with her own life to
live." She moved to the sink, staring out into a brightening sky.
A raven called in the woods.
After a time, was answered by another.
Benny rose from his chair.
"Guess I better get going."
Millie's head snapped around.
With more than necessary force Millie shoved him down. "Don't be a child,
Benny, it happened." She glanced at her daughter. At some point in her
soured reflection of her daughter's past, Terry Marie joined them. "I doubt
it was your fault. You appear to be a young man of high principles. Men do tend
to be rather weak-willed about some things. Fighting and sex seem to be one and
the same frailty - Bull, shut up. On your last trip home you were rather
eloquent about your conquests of the girls in your dorm, when you didn't know I
was around."
In a scandalized whisper, Bull
said, "Mama."
Terry Marie came around the
table and hugged her mother.
"I'm so sorry, Mama.
Things are, well, a little different in the Service. Don't worry. Benny and I
have both had all our shots."
Millie sighed and returned her
daughter's hug.
"Mrs. Donnelly, I -"
A shy smile flickered and died
on Benny's face. Millie smiled. That chunk of dark granite lightened into a
boy's face with that bashful grin. Too bad he didn't do it more often. Then
again, with the feelings he stirred within her, maybe they were all better off
with him gloomy.
"I didn't mean to shame
your house," Benny finished softly.
Boone snorted and opened his
mouth in a cold laugh. Millie leveled him with a look of paternal ire.
His mouth snapped shut. Boone
glowered at Benny. From between clenched teeth, he said, "This isn't over
yet, bum."
Millie cried out, "Yes,
it is." Her face flushed with red spots and a pale rage. "By the grace
of God and because of this boy your daddy is alive and well. As much as I love
all my children, I'd trade the lot of you for Ron." Her eyes grew fierce
and Boone tried to sink under the table.
"All right." To
Millie's cold eyes, he shouted, "I said all right, Mama." Boone stood.
He towered over them and after a long moment, announced, "I had me a long
drive. I'm going to bed."
"Put your things in the
den."
"What? I have a perfectly
good bedroom -"
"Benny is sleeping
there."
"He wasn't sleeping when
I saw him, standing naked over -"
"Boy."
"I'll get my saddle bags
and sleep there." In the depths of his being, Benny shuddered at having to
stay in the same room as that remote with its evil eye.
Eyes like flint, Millie
glanced at Benny. "Are you going to defy me, too, young man?"
With all the fervency of
meekness, Benny's head rattled a denial. Man, he was doomed. She was a teacher.
Geezis. A history teacher.
A taxi slipped over the shell
drive and around to the back walkway. Millie sagged and shook her head.
"Looks like we can all forget where we'll sleep today." Followed by a
small pack of weary children and a staggering, nondescript hound, a middle-aged
couple slid up the icy walk. "It's Ellen and John."
Sweet-Bottom blurted,
"John?" She glanced at Benny, whispering in terror, "Run."
The back door opened at
Millie's touch. The tallish woman squealed and rushed into her arms. The child
she carried mumbled a sleepy protest, then yawned a smile at his grandmother.
Loaded with bags and another child, Ellen's husband stumbled in.
"Just stack them on the
porch," he called over one shoulder.
"My pleasure, man."
The suitcases piled onto the porch and the driver returned for the rest. Benny
slipped out and took half.
"This don't get you no
cut of the tip," the driver said. He grinned. "I be Greg'ry. Gramma
says to say he:i:O, man." In a low voice, the man whispered,
"What the livin' hell you be doing here as yet? Get you gone, man. Like,
real gone."
Glaring, Benny started hauling
baggage in. The taxi's horn roared. He thumbed his nose and snatched up more,
fumbling into the kitchen. Boone growled at him and rushed out for the rest.
"Pile it in a corner,
boys," Millie called from the stairs. "Bull, come get your things.
Bobby and John, Jr. will be sleeping in your room. You and Benny will have to
share the den."
John grinned at Boone.
"Hey, what happened to you?" He inspected the bandanna-wrapped neck.
Boone colored and shrugged. He
gave John a wicked grin. "Evil biker gal from hell. But what a lady,
man." He winked.
An hour later, the children
bedded down, the women sat around the table, the men leaning against the
counter.
"All we need now is Jason
and Lea and their kids," Millie groused. She glared at her children, but
there was a happy welcome in her eyes, a release of burden now that they were
home.
With a cocky chortle, her
son-in-law said, "They should be at the airport about dinner time, Mom. The
flight from Denver was delayed by a snowstorm -"
"Like always." Eyes
weary but jubilant, Ellen sipped at a mug of coffee.
"So," John's
expression grew smug, "We drove down to Colorado Springs and caught a
flight from there. Even with carbon dioxide levels dropping to a record low, the
'Springs are blizzard-free." He filled a pipe with coarse low-nicotine
tobacco. "I heard Kansas City has ten-foot drifts. The military is trying
to get through with soy-meat and milk."
Benny stood as far from them
as possible without being impolite. Fear curled through him. All these
strangers, and Bull throwing him savage looks every few moments made his stomach
ache to the max.
When their attention was
centered on a joke Ellen was telling, he slipped from the house to the barn.
Benny crawled up to the loft and burrowed into sweet grass hay. With the
shutters frozen to the windows the place was black inside.
A whisper in his soul. Deep in
the attic of the house, the corpse stirred. It spoke to Benny.
"Mama, who was
that?" Ellen ask. The woman shivered. "He looks so . . . so wild.
Frightening, almost."
Terry Marie glared at her.
"Late last year Benny was in a terrible accident down in
Fayetteville." Her expression softened. "We almost lost him. He - I
think he's wonderful." With that, she burst into angry tears.
Black terror spewed though
Benny. A whisper of laughter trembled over the shaking body. His hand clenched
the knife. It snicked open. Out of that well of terror that exists deep in our
souls crept the stench of rotting human flesh. Benny whimpered and curled into a
tight ball, the knife restless, moving in his hands.
With a thoughtful scowl, John
stirred the coffee in his mug. "You know," he said, stroking the
stubble on his chin, "The man looks familiar." His eyes widened. John
snapped his fingers. "Janissary Project."
"John Callahan, don't you
even think it," Terry cried. "Benny is a good man. He never meant to
do any of that. He was forced. If that wasn't so the Marines never would have
accepted him. My God." Her voice rose to a shout. "His stepfather was
Sergeant Ivanovitch." As though that said all her fist thumped the table.
From the shock on John's face, maybe it had.
'Are you afraid yet,
red-nigger boy?'
Benny moaned. Down in the
stables, cats paused in their foraging for rodents, their eyes growing red, fur
standing on end.
Mike's car eased onto the
white surface and he stopped, his eyes dreamy. Man, there was the tree he tried
to push Terry Marie out of, and fallen himself. It had to be a good twenty feet
to the ground. His arm twinged faintly in alarm. Dad still had the horses . . .
.
'Die for me, Benny. die so
I may live again.'
He let the car roll up the
winding drive and parked behind the garage.
In Benny's hand the knife
trembled and edged close to his throat. Occult markings carved in his flesh
burned and smoked again on a heaving chest.
Mike Donnelly blew the horn.
He stepped out of the car, one hand raised to his mother and sisters.
The voice screamed, demanding,
forcing the knife to Benny's throat: 'Die for me.'
Drums throbbed a slow cadence,
voices raised in prayer-songs chanted about the mystery of Owl. A body was tied
to a 'Stone and the priest raised a blackened knife of gray flint over a weeping
child.
A voice thundered over it all,
an eagle cried in anger, ravens called in rage.
Screams hacked into the night.
"No!"
Benny scrambled out of the
nest of hay and threw open the loft door, sucking in raw, damp air. A thin
trickle of blood ran down his chest. A drop clung to the tip of the knife. It
fell, exploded in silence on the ice.
He spotted the suit and froze.
Stepping back in the loft Benny waited with cold sweat freezing on his forehead.
The man walked over ice-coated
grass, each blade shattering with a crystalline snap, and to the porch. Millie
drew him in. There was a shout of laughter and the door slammed shut on it all,
leaving Benny alone but for the horses and a small, growing number of ravens in
the cottonwood tree near the stable. One flapped off in search of a juicy mouse
or a little corn. He fumbled to the ladder and crawled down. After feeding the
stock, he washed the Jersey's udder and milked her. She raised a back hoof, but
a crooning voice drew it down. Slowly her eyes drifted shut.
Benny sat the bucket of milk
on the ground outside the door. It would chill there, and it wouldn't hurt it to
wait to be strained.
He backed away from the door
and raced to the ladder.
In the house Mike took a cup
of coffee and grinned at his mother.
"You know," John
said to no one in particular, his voice low, tinged with disgust, "I heard
they emasculated him. McQue was our local man, at Scranton. The records stated
they had."
"Who?" Mike looked
up from his coffee. The importance of this case and his father's suddenly
appearing all too mortal had him spinning. He looked at John.
"I'm sure they
didn't." Terry Marie threw a grin at Boone. "Did they, Bull?"
"Who didn't they -"
Boone flushed. He glared back
at Terry Marie. Eyes pure cat, she leaned on her hands and purred a hunter's
smile.
Mike cocked an eye at his
younger brother. "Who is it you're talking about?" He chuckled at
Boone's sullen rage.
"Tell them, Bull. You
ought to know, 'cause you got all nice and cuddly with his - how shall we say it
- equipment? His tools." She blushed to the roots of her hair.
"You're in enough trouble
as it is, so shut it, Terry Marie." Boone clenched his fists.
Face clouding, Mike glanced
from his brother to his sister. "Come on, guys, lighten up and tell me who
you're gossiping about." He glanced at his watch.
Millie felt a twinge of
apprehension. "Terry Marie, Bull," she scolded them, "All of you
just be still. Hush," she said, her eyes holding a strong warning for John.
"That young man has been through enough without anyone dredging up the
past. Understand?"
John looked sour but he
nodded.
Millie beamed and changed the
subject.
"John, did Ellen mention
that the Observer is up for sale?"
"Is that a hint, Mom
Donnelly?" John chuckled and reached for his pipe. He got a pointed look
from his wife. With a groan, John thrust it in his jacket pocket.
Mike frowned at Millie.
"What's all the fuss about, Mama?"
"Oh, just the young man I
hired last night."
"The bum, don't you
mean?"
Millie glared until Boone
subsided into his chair.
"Women should live near
their mothers. Baby says so. I mean, you-know-who," Terry Marie said and
blushed prettily. Her eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter. "And besides,
cities, even as nice as Denver, are terrible places to raise children."
"Indeed they are."
Millie gave Terry Marie a look. "And you might want to consider the first
for yourself."
Terry Marie flushed. Her voice
just a shade too bright, she said, "I'm in for the duration, Mama."
"Some day, though?"
She nodded and leaned over to
kiss Millie. "Just as soon as this old war-horse finds the right son-in-law
for you. I have about twenty eggs put by in the Marine's cryro-unit. How about
you-know-who?" At Boone's outraged snort Millie and Terry Marie laughed.
"Brother-mine, you are too, too much. Boy, you're just pissed . . . I mean
angry, because he whipped you in a fair fight, boy."
"He did not."
Terry Marie smiled a set of
fine, white teeth.
"He has honor. A lot of
honor." To Ellen, Terry Marie said, "He figured he deserved a beating
after he - we - got caught. And when he figured he'd had enough, he took out
Bull so fast, even I couldn't follow it. And I'm an expert. Colonel Myers and I
teach self-defense at the nurses' college." She balled a fist and kissed
it. "Ah, how sweet it is. Amen."
Ellen laughed. "Serves
you right, Bull. I'll never forget the time you shoved me in the pond. Lord, but
was I mad. I must have been all of eleven, and going out on my first real date.
I blackened your eye, you bully, didn't I just? Still," Ellen said,
"That eye patch and bitter anger, brrr. Just what did you catch them at,
anyway, Bull?" Her eyes twinkled with a suspicion of laughter.
There was a pause that was,
hopefully, not pregnant.
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