P Deutermann - Spider mountain

“Define rare,” I said, mostly to see if he knew the formula.

“Cut off its horns, wipe its ass, and bring it to the table,” he recited.

“Good. Now I don’t have to buy charcoal.”

He showed up just after sundown in an unmarked Crown Vic. He might even have thought that no one would have ever suspected it might be a cop car, but as I watched his progress through the tourist campground from on high, I could tell that every teenager down there who saw the car knew precisely what it was.

He was calmer than usual-no wide-open eyes, rapid-fire speech, or twitchy hands. I gave him some scotch, briefly seared two steaks, and then debriefed him over dinner. He didn’t seem too surprised about what the Creighs were up to, almost as if this was what he’d come to expect from the Appalachian lowlife. The news about Hayes did dismay him.

“I suspect it’s not about personal gain,” I said. “His wife is apparently desperately ill, and I’m guessing their health plan has run out. Something like that. Or it could be that what we saw was just Hayes hassling Mingo for being in Carrigan County.”

“But you don’t think so?”

I shook my head. “I think he knows what Mingo is up to and is probably on the payroll, if only to look the other way. That’s when I decided it really wasn’t safe to be there anymore. Carrie wouldn’t leave, though-which is why I telegraphed the fact to Hayes that I’d seen him and Mingo in the parking lot. Once that gets back to them, I’ll be their main problem, not her.”

“How chivalrous,” Baby said. “But in the end, if they’re partners, they’ll whack you both if they can. That report you sent in to the Bureau- that’s going to stir up a shit storm, I think.”

“If it gets through the mailroom and the SAC’s palace guard,” I said. “You know how that goes. They get a lot of crank mail.”

He sipped some scotch. “Yeah, but I got a call from Sam King at the SBI, after those hillbillies did their Buddhist monk interpretation in the parking lot? He confirmed the Bureau had something going on this kid thing, although not specific to Robbins County. Said he’d told the both of you to get out of the way before you really fucked things up.”

“Well, then,” I said. “My report ought to just corroborate their suspicions. Maybe now they’ll move in force.”

“I wonder, Cam. You know those guys-they don’t play well with others. I used to think it was really good operational security. Now I think it’s because they want the option of saying, ‘Hey, everybody, that wasn’t us,’ should whatever they try happen to go south. If they do know about this alleged child-sex-slave deal, my guess is they’re probably working the other end.”

“Meaning?’

“Meaning, they’re trying to find out who the buyers are. You mention your theory that it’s going overseas?”

I said I had, but that of course I had no real data. “It isn’t likely they’re selling into the U.S. in places like Washington,” I said, “New Orleans, now, I’d believe that, although Katrina might have slowed that down a little. But D.C.? That town’s one big piece of flypaper for anything like this these days.”

“I’m with you on that,” he said. “Too many tripwires in Washington right now. This has to be an overseas deal, and I like your theory on diplomatic immunity channels.”

I cleared the plates and threw steak scraps to the two fuzzy piranhas hovering discreetly near the table.

“I’m kind of conflicted on this whole gig,” I told him. “As an ex-lawman, I can see perfectly well how we could screw things up for some operation we don’t know about. Sam King is right-we should knock it off. On the other hand…”

“On the other hand, you’re a civilian now,” he said. “These animals are in your face. Remember all the times when you were on the Job that you wanted to pick up a club and invoke Father Darwin on some walking pustule? Well, now you can, as long as you do it right and don’t get caught.”

“You ever get that urge in your business?’

“I rarely harbor such thoughts, or at least no more than hourly,” he said, pouring some more scotch. “At least you took that bitch Rowena Creigh off the boards.”

“That was pretty awful,” I said. “I acted instinctively and, trust me, I felt that. 357 round with my left ear. But still, a double-ten to the face makes for some vivid memories.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he said. “That skank compromised one of my guys. Got him all hot and bothered, went to some no-tell motel in Rocky Falls, took him around the world, only she was making movies the whole time. Had to transfer the guy out of the area and his wife found out. You did the world a service.”

“And stoked the Creighs’ revenge ethic,” I said. “We’re not going to have any more polite conversations on the front porch.”

“Hell, that just clarifies your position,” he said with a grin. “See a Creigh, pop his ass. Self-defense, a priori. Guaranteed clean shoot. I’ll testify for you.”

“What do you think about all this?” I asked.

He sniffed. “I’m at the stage in my life where I’m focused on getting off this bus with enough money to be comfortable, the Neanderthals up in the hills notwithstanding.”

“They’re selling kids, man. To kiddie porn monsters.”

“You know what?” he replied. “That’s probably a better fate for them than dying of worms in their front yards.”

Both shepherds, who had been listening raptly to our conversation and hoping for more scraps, got up suddenly and went to the front door, ears up. Baby had all the lights out and I had the shotgun in hand in about the same five seconds. We each took a window. It was full dark by now, but the campground lights down below the cabin gave us a good look outside. The shepherds weren’t growling, which I finally realized meant that they might know who or what was outside. I couldn’t see the area right in front of the door.

Then I remembered who’d brought me to this cabin in the first place.

“Lemme guess, you’re desperately seeking some decent scotch,” I said softly.

“Open the freaking door, please,” Carrie said from the other side. “It’s getting cold out here.”

Baby, his gun pointed down at the floor, opened the door and she stepped through, both arms full of gear. “Having a nice chat, boys?” she asked as she dumped her stuff on the floor. The shepherds greeted her warmly. “You’re lucky I wasn’t a creeping Creigh, with all those lights on and a clear shot right through my window of choice.”

“This is a federal reservation,” Baby declared self-righteously, putting away his gun. “A national park, even. A treasured heritage. A Vanderbilt tax write-off. They wouldn’t dast.”

She snorted and asked where the glasses were. In our haste we’d forgotten to hide the bottle, so, unfortunately, we had to share. We sat back down at the table.

“So what’s the plan, Stan?” she asked no one in particular.

Baby made a by-me gesture with his hands. “I was just invited over for dinner,” he said. “You know, just passing through the neighborhood?”

Carrie looked over at me expectantly. She was wearing jeans, a sleeveless blouse, and a too-large ball cap, presumably to cover up the new sideways part in her hair. But her eyes were clear and she seemed to have regained some of her normal spunk.

“Beats the shit out of me,” I said. “I was just taking the night off.”

“He lies,” Baby said helpfully. “He didn’t want to slink away back to beautiful downtown Triboro and leave you alone up here with all these black hats looking for you. Watch yourself, Carrie-it might be true love.”

I gave him the finger and Carrie started laughing. That was a pretty sight, actually.