T. Parker - The Famous and the Dead

At 9:43, Hood saw the big tractor-trailer coming down the avenue toward him, the new cars catching the sun. He raised the camera and saw the Hermosillo Fusions and Ford Tauruses and Lincoln MKZs tethered tightly but still rocking slightly against their moorings. The sun was just high enough now to blast into the powerful lens of the camera, and Hood had to hold it low to get a look at the drivers.

There was only one driver this time. No man in an olive suit, no man in a blue Ford shirt. Just Bradley Jones, signaling his turn and throwing his weight into the downshift, sending a plume of gray smoke out the stacks above him.

Hood smiled and let the motor drive rip.

Bradley and Erin sat in the courtyard of Hood’s Buenavista adobe. Bradley saw Gabriel Reyes loitering in the kitchen inside, peeking through the window intermittently at them. Bradley saluted him. He wondered what Hood was doing on this fine day. Working his ass off for not much reward, was Bradley’s guess; probably wondering where Congressman Grossly had gotten such good documentation of the Love 32 fiasco from three years back. And wait until Hood got a load of Dez’s Yucatan dossier, and a likely investigative expose by his admirer Theresa Brewer at Fox News. Amazing how Mike could look and plan ahead. Not just weeks and months, but years. As he had done for his mother, Suzanne. And if Mike was to be believed, for many others. The biggest question about Mike was, could he be trusted? And the answer was, of course, too late .

“So, what are bathroom-products people like?” asked Erin.

“They vary.”

“I don’t like you spending time with Mike. No matter how many good things Owens has to say about him. I think the truth about Mike is closer to the way Charlie tells it. And he’s got that scar to prove it. Was she there, Owens?”

“Of course. The two peas.”

“Did Mike try to get you two together?”

“Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“I always had the feeling that he wished I was her. So he’d have more control over you. She’s very beautiful and mysterious. Are you tempted by her?”

“I’m tempted by you.”

Her smile was faint but a smile nonetheless. Without asking permission he reached over and placed his hand over her distended middle. She closed her eyes. His heart was beating strong and hard. Sitting on the table near them was the Victorian-style wrought-iron birdcage and two blue parakeets he’d bought cowered together on a perch as far from the humans as they could get.

“Why parakeets?” she asked.

“Why not parakeets?”

“They don’t look super happy.”

“They’re the happiest creatures on earth. These two are just afraid. It will take them a little time to get used to the new cage. Then they’ll sing to you. See, they’ll sing for you, the singer. They can live to fifteen. Thomas will be just about ready for his learner’s permit.”

She opened her eyes. Bradley studied the blue surfaces of them and wondered exactly what she was thinking. He told her about his last few days of working the STAR Unit. He talked up the value of the program for troubled as well as untroubled youth. He spoke highly of Gail Padilla. He thought of the $34,000 stashed in the spare-tire well of his Porsche, which had been waiting for him at Castro Ford. Not only waiting but washed, as Herredia had promised. It was good seeing Israel again after so many years, he thought. A good businessman. Then Bradley had a fleeting image of El Tigre and the two women standing there at El Dorado just six short hours ago.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“The way the sunlight makes your hair shine.”

“Gabe says it’s the avocados he puts in the salads.”

“You talk girl stuff with Gabriel?”

“He’s got four daughters and four granddaughters.”

Bradley nodded. “I hope to have daughters and granddaughters someday. What did Dr. David say this morning?”

“Everything is fine. Now that he’s turned I can have him without a surgery. It’s exactly eight days until he’s due. I think he’s going to make it real clear when he’s coming. He seems. . assured.”

“I love you.”

“You’re immature and deceitful and reckless.”

“Those days are over. Behold the new Bradley Jones.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly, then closed his eyes and let the winter sun warm his face. For the first time in four months, since her ordeal in Yucatan, Erin let her hand stay in his for longer than ten seconds. He felt his heart large in his chest and he knew his luck had changed and he knew he was going to write himself back into her book of days. He would be the best father in the history of Western civilization.

• • •

Back in Valley Center that evening Bradley took the dogs on a long run down to the creek on the far side of the property. He rode a noisy ATV with a toolbox in back and kept to the fence lines, checking the sensors and electrified wires. Never again, he thought, never again will someone breech this border. The dogs bounded along with him, all twelve, led by Call, a Husky-Saint Bernard mix. The dogs were all dragging their tongues by the time they got back to the house. The Labradors waded, panting, into the pond to drink chest deep, while the others lapped noisily at the edge.

Suddenly he heard someone calling his name from across the pond. The dogs heard it too and they stopped their drinking and perked their ears. The woman was older and small and from what he could see she was wearing an old-fashioned Victorian dress. He actually rubbed his eyes but it did no good. Eva. She waved and called out his name again and started out around the pond toward him. The dogs charged around the water toward her, led by Call, but when they reached the small woman she raised her hand confidently and they halted and some sat and some crept up to her but didn’t quite touch their noses to her dress. Bradley came up behind them. “How in the hell did you get past the fence?”

“I jumped over it.”

“It’s eight feet high and electrified.”

“I’m well aware of that! You do remember me from the convention, don’t you? Eva?”

“Of course I do.”

“For you.” She slipped the silver flask from a slit pocket in the abundant hip ruffles of the dress and held it out to him.

“No, thank you.”

“Drink the damned stuff, Bradley. I’ve got unhappy news for you.” He took the flask and drank without taking his eyes off her. The flask and potion were both cold. “Mike is not happy with your behavior at the convention, or since. He believes you are spoiled, truculent, thankless, and selfish. Now, these kinds of disagreements do come up, and they usually resolve positively. However, during such standoffs, competitors often attempt to forge an advantage. Some of Mike’s envious coworkers here in the Western Territory have decided to try just that. I have this on good authority. It’s imperative that you refuse to speak to them or hear them out. They can’t and won’t coerce you in any physical way, but. . well, you should know that they can be very, very persuasive. Especially with you soon to be so vulnerable. And for the first time.”

“First time?”

“Becoming a father. They’ll try to manipulate you using Thomas. But mark my word: What they really want is for Thomas to be theirs.”

“That will never happen.” He drank again and gave the flask back. She drank and pocketed it. He began to feel the confidence and clarity, the alert well-being that the potion caused. He felt his vision becoming stronger and his imagination more boldly visual.

“Do not negotiate with them. Mike has worked himself to the bone to provide for your family. They’ll claim to be friends of his. They’ll claim they have been ordered to replace him. They’ll tell you anything to get you talking back. And, of course, they’ll bribe you with pretty much anything you want. Say nothing. And, please, Bradley, don’t mention me or this visit. I’m breaking a hundred rules just by jumping your little fence. Now, I’ll leave you to yourself. Bradley. Dogs. Good evening.”