"For how long?"
"I don't know. Long enough to sort things out, make some decisions."
"Where are you going?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Out of the country?"
"I haven't decided yet," he repeated testily.
If he'd told Mac that he had buried Kev's memory and was going to leave it alone, Mac would have known he was lying. So he had vowed vengeance, which had appealed to Mac's idealism and enhanced his image of Burke Basile the Legend. But this barrage of questions put Burke on guard again. Was Mac's interest as sincere and innocent as he wanted him to believe?
He glanced toward the house, where he could see Mac's young, pretty wife through the windows, moving around in the kitchen. A Playmate of the Month who could cook and clean and obviously liked the role of wife and homemaker. The kid had it all.
Which left Burke to wonder why Mac appeared so hungry all the time. He was like an alley cat, anxious and on the prowl, not like a satisfied cat who had a bowl of cream that never ran empty.
As though sensing Burke's suspicion, Mac smiled his infectious grin and slapped him on the shoulder."Whatever you decide to do, the odds are definitely in your favor. You'll come out on top. Bet you a hundred to one."
In all seriousness, Burke replied, "That's one gamble you might lose, Mac."
The temperature began to drop significantly, but Mac sat out on the patio long after Burke had thanked Toni for the dinner and departed.
Burke Basile already had an established reputation when Mac joined the police force. Basile didn't win any popularity contests because he didn't accept graft, but he was respected. He used his brain in preference to his pistol, although anybody who called him a coward was a fool. Basile liked to outsmart the drug dealers, not outshoot them.
He considered the most successful operation to be one in which nobody got hurt.
Nevertheless, Mac believed him when he'd said that if he ever uncovered the traitor in their division, he would kill him.
"Mac?" Toni approached on bare feet."Aren't you cold out here?"
He took her hand and kissed it."Basile was impressed. Great meal."
"Thank you. Coming in?"
"In a minute."
"Don't forget to lock up." She withdrew, but on the threshold of the patio door, she hesitated."Is everything okay?"
"Sure, honey. Everything is fine."
"I like Basile."
"So do I."
"He's nicer than I thought he'd be. By the way you described him, I expected him to be sort of scary."
Burke Basile was scary. To his enemies he was real scary. Right now, his future was scary.
But no scarier than Mac's.
"We were so fortunate to find this building unoccupied. It's away from the city's corrupting influences, which we consider a real plus."
That was Father Gregory's response to Mrs. Duvall's comment that she hadn't realized Jenny's House was located so far from metro central.
Burke was driving. Gregory, in the captain's seat beside him droned on about the advantages of the nonexistent facility. The two passengers were seated in back. A portrait of boredom, Errol stared vacantly out the window. Remy Duvall listened with interest and occasionally asked a question.
Burke was more than glad to let Gregory do the talking. While he wasn't much good at small talk, it seemed to be Gregory's special gift.
Burke hadn't even got out of the van when they picked up Mrs. Duvall and her bodyguard."I assume Duvall is at his office," he had said when he parked the van at the curb in front of the mansion."But on the outside chance he's at home, Father Kevin needs to stay out of sight."
Gregory, looking at peace with God and man, strolled up the front walkway. Errol answered the door and motioned him inside. Burke mentally listed all the reasons he should drive away now. There were pressing arguments in favor of ending this thing before he committed a serious crime.
But he dismissed them and focused instead on why he must do it: Peter and David Stuart. They were validation enough. Those two boys would grow up deprived of their dad, and Pinkie Duvall was the one ultimately responsible.
The front door opened, and the three came out. Burke looked beyond Errol to the woman, who was smiling over something Gregory had said.
The phrase "like a lamb to slaughter" flitted through his mind. But by the time they reached the van, Burke had capped his conscience. When she'd signed on as Mrs. Pinkie Duvall, she'd accepted the risks of being married to a criminal.
Gregory's glib chatter continued mile after mile. He was playing his role well and seemed perfectly at ease. Of course he wouldn't be this composed if he knew how the afternoon was going to end. Not wanting to make him nervous, Burke hadn't discussed the details with him. He assured him only that he wouldn't be harmed and that he wouldn't get into trouble. If all went according to Burke's plan, that promise would be kept.
"Excuse me, Father Gregory," Remy Duvall said, interrupting his ceaseless discourse."Father Kevin, is that smoke coming from beneath the hood?"
Burke had wondered when someone else was going to notice what he'd been seeing for the last couple of miles. Father Gregory, who'd been facing the backseat, came around."Smoke?" "Steam," Burke said tersely."I checked everything out before I bought the van, but I must have overlooked a leaky radiator hose."
'"What are we going to do?" Father Gregory was rattled. A busted radiator hose wasn't in the script.
Burke smiled at his cohort in as priestly a fashion as he could muster under the circumstances."We'll make it to our destination." "How much farther is it?" Mrs. Duvall asked.
"Only a couple more miles."
"I don't think it's gonna make it." This from Errol, who hadn't spoken since leaving the Garden District. Burke could feel his breath on his neck as he leaned forward and peered over his shoulder to assess the situation."If you keep driving it like this, you're gonna burn up your engine."
Gregory's composure slipped another notch."Uh, Father Kevin, maybe we should postpone this excursion, try again another day, after the van's been repaired. We don't want to inconvenience Mrs. Duvall."
"Don't worry about inconveniencing me," she said."I don't want irreparable damage done to your new van."
"Bless you for being so selfless and understanding," Gregory said to her. Then to Burke, "Let's just turn around and go back into town."
"It'll never make it back," Errol said."Pull into that service station up ahead. You can get this heap fixed, and I'll call Roman to come pick up Mrs. Duvall and me." Gregory said, "Father Kevin, it seems we have no choice."
The Crossroads was situated in a weed-choked delta of real estate formed by the convergence of two state roads. The filling station had six gas pumps and two garage bays. The attached cafe advertised cold beer, boudin sausage, and a variety of crawfish dishes. Flying above the buildings were the American flag, the Louisiana state flag and the bars and stars of the Confederacy.
Burke pulled the van to a stop and cut the engine. Steam was now billowing from beneath the hood. Hissing water and antifreeze from beneath the chassis splattered onto the pavement."I'll see if a mechanic is on duty," he said as he got out."Father Gregory, why don't you take Mrs. Duvall into the cafe and get her something to drink?"
"That's a very good idea." Gregory looked relieved to have another workable plan already in place.
"I'll call Roman from the cafe," Errol said."She doesn't go anywhere without me."
They headed for the entrance to the cafe, Burke went in search of the auto mechanic. He found him inside the garage. Long, unwashed hair trailed from beneath a grimy dozer cap and lay on his bony shoulders like dirty hemp. He was wearing love beads and sandals with his greasy coveralls.
When he saw Burke, his gaunt face registered astonishment."When you was here yesterday, I didn't know you was a priest."
"Wonders never cease." Burke pressed a fifty-dollar bill into his hand.
"How quickly can you tape up that leak?"
The mechanic gestured to a roll of duct tape."Soon's it cools down, I'll hop to. Sure you don't want me to replace the hose? Ain't nothing to it. Tape won't hold her for long."
"Taping's fine. How long? Ten minutes?"
He sucked on his stubby, yellow teeth."Iffy. It's mighty hot."
Burke passed him a twenty."Wear gloves. The keys are in the van.
When you're done, pull it up out front and leave the motor running."
"Will do. Only, I don't get it. How come you rigged your own radiator hose to bust?"
"The Lord moves in mysterious ways."
Burke went into the crowded cafe and wove his way through the tables to join the party of three already seated."We ordered you coffee." \.
"Thank you, Father Gregory."
"Did you speak with a mechanic?" asked Mrs. Duvall.
Sending smiles around the table, he told them confidently that the van would be repaired shortly. A waitress served their coffees. While sipping his, Burke surveyed the room with affected casualness, but mounting concern.
He had checked out the cafe yesterday afternoon, when he made arrangements with the mechanic, who had told him that puncturing the radiator hose before they set out would guarantee that they wouldn't get far before it started boiling dry. This place had been perfect for his plan. It was in a rural area, at least four miles from the nearest local police force or sheriff's office. He'd been here just after lunch. With the exception of two tired waitresses, a chain-smoking cashier watching a soap opera on a portable TV, and a handful of desultory diners, the place had been empty.
Burke had figured that business might increase around dinnertime when a few locals would come in. Otherwise, it was a quiet, slow, sleepy place that catered to the occasional motorist who grabbed a bite to eat while getting the car filled up.
Unfortunately he'd miscalculated. It was now apparent that the Crossroads was a happy-hour watering hole for blue-collar workers who knocked off early and stopped here for a brew or two on their way home.
The cafe was far more crowded than he had planned on it being.
Cajun music blared from the jukebox that hadn't even been playing when he was here yesterday. Every table and booth was occupied, as well as every stool at the counter. Another problem was the demographics of the clientele. With the exception of the two priests, the babe, and the bodyguard, they were testosterone-powered, redneck regulars.
The center of their attention was Pinkie Duvall's wife.
Every man in the place was licking his chops, some literally, some figuratively, but all seemed to be pondering what a crotch-throb like her was doing in the company of two men of God and a meathead.
However, Errol wasn't as stupid as he looked."Mr. Duvall isn't gonna like this," he said, glaring back at one of the gawking rednecks "I called the house. Roman was out on an errand, but he's expected back in about ..." he checked his wristwatch "twenty more minutes."
"We'll be able to drive the van by then."
Burke's reassurance did nothing to assuage Errol's apprehension or to calm Gregory's jitters. Beneath the table his leg was bouncing up and down as rapidly as the motorized needle on a Singer. The nervous motion was driving Burke to distraction, and he was on the verge of telling him to cut it out when Gregory scooted his chair back and stood up.
"Excuse me." He left the table and headed for the men's room.
"Maybe I ought to call Mr. Duvall?" Errol ventured, putting it to Mrs. Duvall in the form of a question."He could send Bardo or somebody after us."
"I'd rather not bother him," she said.
"You're worrying for nothing, Errol." Burke's facial muscles strained to smile like a benevolent cleric."The mechanic promised it wouldn't take more than ten minutes to patch the hose. As soon as Mrs. Duvall finishes that second cup of coffee, we can be on our way. All right?"
"I guess," Errol grumbled."All I know is, Mr. Duvall isn't going to "Goddamn faggot!"
The shout was underscored by shattering glass. Like everyone else in the cafe, Remy Duvall and Errol turned to see what had caused such an outburst. Burke shot to his feet."Shit!"
Gregory lay whimpering on the floor, doused in spilled beer, and cowering from the man who reached down and grabbed him by the nape of his neck and his belt and jerked him to his feet.
In a rough, uncultured, and unmerciful voice, he told the room at large, "There I am, taking a piss, and I look over, and this twisted fuck is waving it at me." He planted his boot on Gregory's backside and sent him crashing into another table."I'm gonna make the little fucker wish he was dead."
The three men into whose table Gregory had careened were now on their feet. They grabbed him in turn, throwing punches and hurling insults.
Before long, two others had joined in.
Over his shoulder, Burke said to Errol, "Get her out of here. I'll meet you at the van."
Then he elbowed his way through the homophobic crowd. Everyone was on their feet, some standing in chairs, yelling encouragement to the men who were pummeling Gregory. When Burke reached the epicenter of the melee, he plunged in and managed to do some damage to most of the attackers until he came face to face with the object of Gregory's desire. Love must truly be blind, Burke thought, because this was one ugly son of a bitch and every solid, bulky inch of him was bristling with rage.
His fist connected with Burke's chin and sent him flying backward.
"You another one?" He bore down on Burke."You goddamn perverts that hide behind your backward collars make me want to puke."
He bent down to pick up Burke and deliver more. But when his red, temper-congested face was mere inches away from Burke's, his progress was stopped so abruptly that inertia almost caused him to pitch forward and land on top of Burke.
He'd been halted by Burke's pistol, the barrel of which was digging into the beefy forehead, which Burke used as leverage as he came to his feet.
"Back off, asshole."
"Wha "
"Call off your friends, or the next sacrament you receive will be last rites."
By now several of the others had noticed that the priest was holding their friend at gunpoint. Shock, more than fear, immobilized them.
Within moments, all activity ceased, and the only sound in the room, except for the lively music coming from the jukebox, was Gregory's blubbering.
"Move over there." The redneck obeyed Burke instantly, stumbling over his own big feet, his arms raised. Speaking calmly to the ring of hostile faces, Burke said, "Don't anybody do anything stupid." He inched toward Gregory and nudged him with his foot."Get up."
Gregory covered his head with his arms and began to sob even louder.
Burke was tempted to lay into the young man himself.
Instead he gritted his teeth and said, "So help me God, if you don't get up and move toward the door, I'm going to leave you here for them to do with as they please. Before they're finished you'll be begging to go back to jail."
The warning worked. Still whimpering, Gregory pulled himself to his feet."I'm sorry. I "
"Shut up."
"Okay, just don't leave me." He wiped his bleeding face on his sleeve and staggered toward the exit.
- Burke, sweeping the room with his extended gun arm, moved backward toward the door."We're leaving now. We don't want any more trouble No harm was done. Just go on about your business."
When he reached the door, he shoved Gregory through it, then followed him out. He was relieved to see the van, engine running.
"Get in the van," he shouted as he jogged toward the office of the filling station where he could see Errol speaking into the telephone and gesturing broadly.
Burke charged through the door and plucked the telephone receiver from the bodyguard's hand, then knocked him on the temple with it. The blow wouldn't do much damage, but it stunned Errol long enough for Burke to grab Remy Duvall's arm and pull her after him toward the door.
She struggled to free her arm."What are you doing?"
A woman customer, who'd been paying for her gas, let go an earpiercing scream. The attendant reached behind the counter for what Burke knew must be a weapon."Don't!" he shouted. The attendant froze. The aging hippie mechanic, standing in the open doorway that connected the office to the garage, was wiping his hand on a shop rag and saying repeatedly, "Far out."
Burke backed out of the office. Pinkie Duvall's wife was fighting to get free. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her backward toward the van. She dug in her heels and flailed her arms, but she was no match for him, although her high heels connected solidly with his shins several times and caused him to curse in pain. She raked her long fingernails over the back of his hand "Stop it!" Tightening his grip around her midriff, he said close to her ear, "You can fight all you want, but it won't do any good. You're coming with me."
"Why are you doing this? Let go of me."
"Not a chance."
"My husband will kill you."
"More than likely. But not today."
He opened the driver's door of the van and boosted her up, then scrambled in behind her. As he pulled the door shut, he shifted into drive and stamped the accelerator to the floor. The tires laid rubber on the pavement as the van lurched forward. Burke took a hard right turn onto one of the state roads and directly into the path of an oncoming tanker. The rig missed the van by a hair.
Gregory was screaming, praying, and cursing in noisy cycles. Burke shouted at him to shut up."Goddamn it! What were you thinking? You could have gotten us all killed!"
"This is your fault, not mine," Gregory sobbed."What are you doing with a gun? You didn't say anything about a gun."
"You should be damned glad I had it so I could save your sorry ass.
Although why I did, I don't know."
Suddenly Mrs. Duvall, who was still sharing the driver's seat with Burke, raised the armrest and dove between the two captain's chairs.
She lunged for the handle of the sliding-panel door on the right side of the backseat."Stop her," Burke yelled.
Gregory was in bad shape, but too afraid of Burke not to do as he was told. He plunged between the seats and threw himself on top of Remy, grabbing a handful of her hair."U'm thorry, U'm thorry." His lips were already grotesquely swollen, and his nose was a bleeding, pulpy mess.
"He's mean. I don't want to hurt you. But if I don't do what he says, I'm afraid he'll kill me."
"I understand," she said with amazing composure."Just please let go of my hair."
Burke addressed her over his shoulder."Nobody's going to hurt you if you cooperate. Okay?" She gave him a terse nod, but he doubted her sincerity."At this speed, you'd kill yourself," he said, warning her of the danger if she tried to leap from the van.