The Golem Part 24

Kapp continued to laugh, even for several moments after his skull buckled and collapsed.

"There, ya f.u.c.k!" Rosh yelled at the dead man.

Stein sighed as he uncranked the chain. "So much for the Cracksonville Boyz."

"Throw him in the water."

Kapp's head looked stepped-on now. Stein dragged him-still shuddering slightly-to the river bank and flopped him in with a splash.

Rosh went back to the car, took one of Stein's cigarettes from the pack. When Stein got behind the wheel, he frowned. "I thought you quit years ago."

Rosh inhaled, eyes fixed on nothing. "Just drive." Stein pulled off the old boat road. "So, come on, Captain. What's all that jive you were talking with Kapp?"

"Just forget it."

Stein chuckled under his breath. "A thing, huh? You sound like Lazy Whittaker."

"Be quiet!"

"Captain, for G.o.d's sake. Who was the guy in the van?"

"It wasn't a guy! Now drive the d.a.m.n car and shut up!" Rosh bellowed.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

July 1880 I.

The last day of the month.

Conner and his men stood at the crossroads when the wagon from Baltimore Armory pulled away. Norris stood at his employer's side, palm itching. The crates had been unloaded, and now the men were prying off the lids. Fifty pistols. And powder'n b.a.l.l.s, Norris thought. "If'n we didn't get stole from, Mr. Conner, things'll change a right quick around here."

Conner seemed preoccupied. "We better not'a gotten stole from. The wagon pulled away faster than my liking." But just as the doubt had been expressed several of the men started whooping it up.

"Good gawd-d.a.m.n, Mr. Conner!" one celebrated. "They'se all here, all fifty of 'em!"

Norris smiled in relief. The ax-hand rushed up with a tarpaper-covered parcel; he unwrapped it to reveal a thirty-six-caliber pistol slathered in packing grease. "You count 'em all, son?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Norris, sir! Fifty!"

"What about powder, caps, and b.a.l.l.s?" Conner asked. Another man hooted from the spread of crates. He hefted one crate. "Powder, caps, and what looks here like hunnerts'a minie-b.a.l.l.s, sir!"

"Thank G.o.d," Conner muttered.

Norris doubted that G.o.d would have any interest in this endeavor. But with fifty pistols and ammo, they could indeed wipe out Lowen and all his people. "Makes a man feel good in the heart ta know ya can still make an honest deal in America."

Conner seemed diverted, even after the successful delivery. He'd been drinkin' that night, Norris recalled. Probably don't quite know what he seed. Two monsters, he'd said. Killed his wife Bonnie, plus Jake Howeth and his wife and kid. Lowen and his Jews! Conner had bellowed the next day. Called 'em up with their black magic! Norris didn't believe it, of course. It was probably just two of Lowen's men making a raid. And it didn't matter now. Not with FIFTY brand-new shooting irons..."Get the crates loaded in the wagon, men," he ordered. "We'll go back to camp'n get 'em up and ready."

Conner walked over to the crates. "There should be one more," he said with some trepidation.

"More guns, sir?"

"Naw. Somethin'...else I paid fer."

"Might you be talkin' 'bout this, Mr. Conner?" another hide-tunicked young man enthused, and pointed to the last opened crate.

It was full of dynamite.

"What'cha fixin' to use that for, Mr. Conner?" Norris asked.

More of Conner's tension went out of him when he saw the explosives. "More'a my plan, Norris. See, with the pistols, we'se'll shoot dead every single Jew in Lowensport-every Jew but one." He pointed to the dynamite. "But fer Gavriel Lowen himself? I got somethin' special in mind for him."

Norris didn't ask, but whoever-or whatever-had killed Conner's wife, all that did was deepen the man's hatred. "So this plan'a yours? When do we do it?"

"I figure we'll wait a couple more days, get things all mapped out, a.s.sign squads, so's we can do it right, just like when it was in the War."

"A good idea, Mr. Conner."

The sound of horse hoofs snagged their attention; they looked down the road and saw two mounted riders approaching.

"It's John Reid and his boy," Norris recognized. "On their way back from Salisbury."

"Aw, yeah. I sent 'em there a week ago to pick up some more shovel heads. After we wipe out Lowen's people, we'se'll have a whole lotta buryin' to do."

"Right, but..." Norris squinted. John Reid's face was creased with concern when he dismounted his horse.

"Howdy, Mr. Conner, Mr. Norris."

Both men nodded. "You get them shovel heads, Reid?" "No problem, sir. But..."

"What's on yer mind?" Norris asked. "Look like somethin's botherin' ya."

Reid hesitated. "Well, sir, see, when we picked up shovel heads at the smith's, the man-name was Hawberk-he tolt us his brother worked as a dock-hand at the harbor, this bein' after I mentioned our camp was near Lowen-sport, sir."

"Yeah?"

"And, see, when I said Lowensport, this fella Hawberk recognized the name, asked me if it was a Jew town like he'd heard, so's I said yes, it is, but we ourselves don't live there proper. I a.s.sured him we wasn't Jews."

"Get to the point, Reid," Norris snapped.

"Well, sir, it's Hawberk's brother, like I done said, who told us he knew the name 'cos recently a steamboat come in to Salisbury, and the captain-Irish fella-mentioned his last stop was Lowensport."

"A steamboat?" Norris asked.

"Yes, sir, a steamboat carryin' a s.h.i.+pment paid fer by Gavriel Lowen, so's that why I'm tellin' ya. Don't sound good if'n ya think about it."

No, it don't, Norris thought. "This man say what the s.h.i.+pment was?"

"No, sir, just some barrels'a somethin'."

"Could be guns," Conner muttered. "Could be Lowen's plannin' to do to us what we're fixin' to do to him." He wrung his hands. "When's that s.h.i.+pment due in Lowen-sport, Reid? You know?"

"Next week's what Hawberk said."

Norris took Conner aside. "Sir, this changes things. Sounds ta me like Lowen does have guns in that s.h.i.+pment."

Conner gave a grim nod. "Which means we gotta kill him and his people 'fore that s.h.i.+pment ever gets here." He looked right at Norris. "So we ain't even gonna wait a day. Get everyone together at the camp for a briefing."

"So's when we gonna do it, sir?"

"We do it to night. We kill 'em all. Tonight."

II.

The Present At 11:30 the next morning, Judy had rushed Seth out of the house. "Come on!" she'd faked. "It'll be fun!"

"That's all right by me," Seth had said. "I'm just glad to see you're feeling better."

In truth, Judy felt worse; she felt rotten to the core of her spirit. Once a crackwh.o.r.e, always a crackwh.o.r.e, the words haunted her. But she had to get him out of the house by noon. "I'm dying for more of those Mary land crabs."

Actually she had no appet.i.te at all, and it depressed her further to see how effectively she lied. That morning, before Seth had awoken, she sneaked to the bas.e.m.e.nt and smoked the last of the crack. Don't let on, she pleaded with herself as Seth drove them to Somner's Cove. She knew she'd have to devote her entire attention to pulling off this act-this lie-with the man she loved.

The touristy watermen theme of the restaurant gave the place a comfortable feel, but no tourists could be seen, just local blue-collar workers sitting mainly at the bar.

"I'm glad you liked the crabs," Seth said, ordering a dozen from the waitress.

"There's a two-for-one special on Screwdrivers today," they were informed.

Seth laughed, relieved, and ordered two iced teas. Judy sat opposite in the veneered wooden booth, focusing hard on the task of seeming normal. But she nearly broke out in tears when Seth went on, "It's so refres.h.i.+ng for an ex-drunk like me to realize that I have no interest whatsoever in booze anymore, no craving, no desire, no nothing. Probably the same for you with drugs, huh?"

Judy faked a smile and nodded. Talk! Sound normal! "I never really cared for the Florida crabs we had in Tampa. Too much trouble and too expensive."

"I read somewhere that this town was the Blue Crab capital of the country at one time, and also the oyster capital. Speaking of oysters, I'll order some of those, too." He smiled leeringly. "You know what they say."

It took Judy a moment to even calculate what he'd inferred. "Oh, yeah. An aphrodisiac. We can test its validity later." But it crushed her to lie again, to admit to herself that the resurgence of her crack habit erased her s.e.x drive. I'll have to fake that, too. "I'll be right back, got to go-you know."

Seth pointed the way to the ladies' room.

Once in the bathroom, she nearly collapsed from a fit of shaking. My G.o.d, my G.o.d, my G.o.d! How could she pull this off? She steadied herself in the mirror, and saw that the crack had already thinned her face. How much longer until she reverted to the ninety-pound drug-waif she'd been but two years ago? I can't let it happen, she prayed, Please, G.o.d, don't let it happen! Give me strength... She washed her face, let herself simmer down, but then she resickened herself when she recalled the details of this ruse. Right now there are two rapists in our bas.e.m.e.nt. What could they possibly want down there? The remaining barrels were as valueless as the ones they'd already stolen. And I let them in... She knew that more crack would be waiting for her when they returned after two. That will be the last of it, she vowed. She touched the silver cross around her neck, wondering how soon its dainty chain might turn into a noose...

During lunch, Judy had deliberately eaten very slowly, barely tasting the otherwise delicious sh.e.l.lfish. She smiled and nodded through conversation, mostly Seth describing future levels of the game sequel; any remarks she made she had to struggle to form, for already she was cringing for more drugs. When Seth eventually noticed, he asked, "You are feeling better, aren't you?"

"Just-just, well, yeah," she feigned. "But I've still got a touch of something. Probably just a little cold."

"Maybe we better go home so you can take a nap." He held her hand across the table. "Sleep is nature's balm, they say."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea." A glance to a nautical wall clock showed her it was past two p.m.

Seth paid, then they sauntered out, his arm around her. The beautiful day s.h.i.+mmered in heat and sun. A sudden worry flared when Seth was unlocking the Tahoe. What if those guys aren't done in the bas.e.m.e.nt? What if they're still there when we get home! But then her eyes flicked up when a vehicle drove by: a large black step van.

The same one from last night, that her stocking-masked rapists had driven into the field. Stenciled paint on the side advertized produce of some sort. Her gut sunk when she considered who was in it, but then at least there was some satisfaction. If they're in town now, that means they're finished at the house. She squinted at the license plate but gave up when the van turned the corner. It seemed to be heading toward the city docks.

She never got a look at the driver.

III.

Asher Lowen rose from his office chair at the sound of the van's surly motor; it was almost one in the morning now. Could it have been that for even a moment he feared they might've been caught?

No.

Asher knew that his G.o.d would protect him and all of his endeavors.

"Sorry we'se late, Asher," Nutjob said when they came in the back door of the House of Hope. "The d.a.m.n ferry broke down, took a hour ta fix."

"That's fine, but did you-"

"We got the body," D-Man said, "no problem. But...we didn't get the skull."

Asher's face went blank.

"I tried callin' you on your cell just past two to tell ya, but-"

"I was at a prayer meeting," Asher said. "You checked everywhere in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Yeah."

"What about beneath the remaining barrels? Did you move them, did you-"

"We moved 'em, and we swept every square inch'a that bas.e.m.e.nt with the detector," D-Man a.s.sured. "It ain't there."

But I know it's there, Asher thought. I know it. He glanced to one of the Dutch ovens, the fumes of whose contents had been expended. "My mances tell me that it is there. Therefore, it must be there."

D-Man slumped. "Then tell us where else ta look 'cos it ain't there."

Asher stroked his chin. "Perhaps there's another bas.e.m.e.nt we're not aware of."

"Well, maybe, but I don't think so. Ain't no other outside doors."

"A door inside, perhaps," Asher suggested. Then, "The girl. You could ask the girl, when she needs more crack. Give her some more freebies in exchange for the information."

D-Man's frustration was plain. "All right," he sighed. "I'll ask her tomorrow."

"Good."