Robert Stone - Dog Soldiers

Hicks stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I want a word with your friend.”

Eddie Peace rose slowly as though there were water at his feet. “Ain’t you gonna hear him out, Raymond?”

Hicks went out the bungalow door and held it open.

“He wants a little schmoozing,” Eddie Peace explained to his friends.

Alone with Marge, Gerald and Jody looked at each other in silence.

“Would you like a drink?” Marge asked them. The way in which she asked it set them slightly more at ease. She supposed that she had meant it to.

“Please,” Gerald said quickly.

Jody looked uncertain.

“I don’t know. Would it go?”

“I think we should have a drink,” Gerald said.

Marge moved the backpack with the pistols in it to the far edge of the bed and brought Gerald the bottle of Wild Turkey.

“I’m afraid there aren’t any glasses.”

“That’s all right,” Gerald said. He held the bottle toward the light, examining the texture of the whiskey. “Very fine stuff.”

He took three large swallows and passed the bottle to his wife. Jody drank from it grimly.

“Do you?” she asked Marge inclining the bottle.

Marge took it and drank. For some reason it tasted sweet to her, like sherry.

“Are you an addict?” Jody asked.

“Certainly,” Marge said.

Jody smiled intelligently.

“No. Really.”

“I don’t know if I am or not.”

“Doesn’t that usually mean you are?”

Marge shrugged.

“How about him,” Gerald asked. “Is he?”

“No.”

“Aren’t there some funny moral areas there?” Jody asked.

“I guess it depends on your sense of humor,” Marge said.

Gerald had another drink.

“We’re not here to judge,” he said. “There’s such a thing as personal necessity. Maybe it’s beyond moral areas.”

Marge found that the liquor made her eyes ache. She closed them against the light, and leaned back on the pillows. She had already been told to shut up.

“You must be a terrific writer,” she said.

Hicks and Eddie Peace huddled against the dark wall of the last bungalow. Eddie hugged his shoulders, his back to the wind.

“Ridiculous,” Hicks said. “Ridiculous bullshit.”

“I thought you’d be amused for Christ’s sake.”

“Amused?” Hicks shivered. “You got a lot of nerve. What happened to the Englishman?”

“I got news for you,” Eddie said, “your shit has a bad rap.”

“Then there’s a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie said.

Hicks ran a hand over his hair.

“Then get those assholes out of here.” Eddie shook his head in impatience.

“ You don’t understand, Raymond, that’s the misunderstanding. You don’t know how things work here. This guy has just been paid an absurd figure. His wife is an heiress. I tell you these people have no conception of money.”

“You’re the con man,” Hicks said, “not me. I’ve got quality shit to sell — why do I want this insanity?”

“Raymond,” Eddie said, “Raymond, try and learn something. I deliver this goof into your hands.” He reached out, took Hicks’ right hand and squeezed it. “He’s a nice fella. He’s very polite.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you’re stupid, Raymond. I tell you your shit is a no-no around here. I’ll give you six thousand for what you can give me. And with a little imagination you can screw Gerald for a lot more. Listen, it would wipe you out what I’ve got working with those two. The guy is scared shit less— even if he doesn’t know it yet. He’s gotta be discreet.”

“You’ll give me what?” Hicks said. “What’s that figure again?” He put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You just take it easy,” Eddie said.

“Man, I’ll burn it before I take a fucking like this.” Eddie twisted slightly to dislodge Hicks’ hand from his person. Hicks seized the leather and held him. “You’ll take a fucking like you wouldn’t believe if you don’t get hip, Raymond. I’m warning you.”

“You’re doing me,” Hicks said. He pulled Eddie toward him.

“Take your hand off me, Raymond.”

“You’re doing me.”

His teeth clenched, Eddie Peace struck Hicks in the stomach with the points of his fingers. Hicks released him surprised.

“Take your hands off me, cocksucker.”

To Hicks’ utter astonishment, Eddie slapped him twice across the face.

“You nickel and dime asshole — don’t you dare threaten me with violence.” Eddie thrust his chin upward and pushed Hicks backward. “You’re way out of your league, Jack. You’re not selling grass to college girls down here. You and that bitch can get offed on account of that shit. For Christ’s sake, you big creep I’m doing you a favor.”

A one-man Mutt and Jeff routine, Hicks thought, stepping back to let him work. He had balls and audacity, without question.

“I can lay this off for you, stupid. Nobody else can.”

Eddie had balls and audacity and he was not basically rash. He was operating in midair — but he held the superior position and it was not unreasonable that he dare to assert it. His trouble, Hicks thought, was that he was too much of an optimist, like all hustlers. And for all his imagination, he was not a good judge of character on limited acquaintance.

He rubbed his cheek where Eddie’s first blow had fallen.

The sound of it rang in his soul like a mantra.

“You’re too vain, Eddie,” Hicks said.

A faint caution troubled Eddie’s eyes — only for a moment.

“You think so, huh?”

“You don’t have the bread.”

Eddie smiled.

“Sure I got it. When we’re finished here we’ll take a ride and do some business.”

“Finished what, for Christ’s sake?”

Eddie shrugged in mock despair.

“We’re turning Gerald on, Raymond. We’re showing him how it is. And he’s gonna do us a few favors because he’s a nice cat and we’re gonna make him scared.”

“How?”

“How? We’re gonna put you in his life. Then he’s gonna want everything back like it was when he didn’t know nothing.” He patted Hicks’ arm in a friendly fashion. “You’ll make out fine. Look at the bright side.”

Hicks began to laugh.

Eddie grinned happily.

“You’re smiling. You like it.”

“Sure,” Hicks said. “Anything you want.”

Eddie and Hicks returned while Jody was explaining to Marge that she, Jody, was fundamentally a revolutionary and that if Gerald was not fundamentally a revolutionary at the moment, she considered it likely that he soon would be. Hicks was so tense that Marge was aware of his body’s rigidity when he sat down on the bed beside her. His right hand rested on his knee; the discolored palm opened and closed as he stretched his corpse-white fingers. When she looked at his face, it struck her that in some curious way he had come to resemble Eddie Peace and after a moment she realized that it was his smile. He was wearing Eddie’s smile in some private mockery. When he turned it on her, she took it for a signal the significance of which she could not understand.

“Everybody makes out,” Eddie told them.

Jody studied him for a moment and giggled, a hand to her mouth.

“Ed is my absolute picture of an operator. Look at him.”

Everyone looked at Eddie Peace.

“Mine too,” Hicks said.

“Raymond is the operator,” Eddie said softly, “not me.

He’s the original hip guy. The whole world is goofs to him.”

“What’s that like?” Gerald asked. He had begun to enjoy himself.

Hicks walked over and took the bottle from his hand without looking at him.

Eddie Peace watched him.