Flagg said, "The red list is something I didn't think you'd ever have to use. There were eight names on it - five now. It was their governing council plus the old woman. Andros was one of them. But he's dead now. Yes, Andros is dead, I'm sure of it." He fixed Lloyd with a narrow, baleful stare.
Lloyd told the story, referring to his notebook from time to time. He didn't really need it, but it was good, from time to time, to get away from that smoking glare. He began with Julie Lawry and ended with Barry Dorgan.
"You say he's retarded," Flagg mused.
"Yes."
Happiness spread over Flagg's face and he began to nod. "Yes," he said, but not to Lloyd. "Yes, that's why I couldn't see - "
He broke off and went to the telephone. Moments later he was talking to Barry.
"The helicopters. You get Carl in one and Bill Jamieson in the other. Continuous radio contact. Send out sixty - no, a hundred men. Close every road going out of eastern and southern Nevada. See that they have this Cullen's description. And I want hourly reports."
He hung up and rubbed his hands happily. "We'll get him. I only wish we could send his head back to his bum-buddy Andros. But Andros is dead. Isn't he, Nadine?"
Nadine only stared blankly.
"The helicopters won't be much good tonight," Lloyd said. "It'll be dark in three hours."
"Don't you fret, old Lloyd," the dark man said cheerfully. "Tomorrow will be time enough for the helicopters. He isn't far. No, not far at all."
Lloyd was bending his spiral notebook nervously back and forth in his hands, wishing he was anywhere but here. Flagg was in a good mood now, but Lloyd didn't think he would be after hearing about Trash.
"I have one other item," he said reluctantly. "It's about the Trashcan Man." He wondered if this was going to trigger another tantrum like the jade-smashing outburst.
"Dear Trashy. Is he off on one of his prospecting trips?"
"I don't know where he is. He pulled a little trick at Indian Springs before he went out again." He related the story as Carl had told it the day before. Flagg's face darkened when he heard that Freddy Campanari had been mortally wounded, but by the time Lloyd had finished, his face was serene again. Instead of bursting into a rage, Flagg only waved his hand impatiently.
"All right. When he comes back in, I want him killed. But quickly and mercifully. I don't want him to suffer. I had hoped he might... last longer. You probably don't understand this, Lloyd, but I felt a certain... kinship with that boy. I thought I might be able to use him - and I have - but I was never completely sure. Even a master sculptor can find that the knife has turned in his hand, if it's a defective knife. Correct, Lloyd?"
Lloyd, who knew from nothing about sculpture and sculptors' knives (he thought they used mallets and chisels), nodded agreeably. "Sure."
"And he's done us the great service of arming the Shrikes. It was him, wasn't it!"
"Yes. It was."
"He'll be back. Tell Barry Trash is to be... put out of his misery. Painlessly, if possible. Right now I am more concerned with the retarded boy to the east of us. I could let him go, but it's the principle of the thing. Perhaps we can end it before dark. Do you think so, my dear?"
He was squatting beside Nadine's chair now. He touched her cheek and she pulled away as if she had been touched with a red-hot poker. Flagg grinned and touched her again. This time she submitted, shuddering.
"The moon," Flagg said, delighted. He sprang to his feet. "If the helicopters don't spot him before dark, they'll have the moon tonight. Why, I'll bet he's biking right up the middle of I-15 right now, in broad daylight. Expecting the old woman's God to watch out for him. But she's dead, too, isn't she, my dear?" Flagg laughed delightedly, the laugh of a happy child. "And her God is, too, I suspect. Everything is going to work out well. And Randy Flagg is going to be a da-da."
He touched her cheek again. She moaned like a hurt animal.
Lloyd licked his dry lips. "I'll push off now, if that's okay."
"Fine, Lloyd, fine." The dark man did not look around; he was staring raptly into Nadine's face. "Everything is going well. Very well."
Lloyd left as quickly as he could, almost running. In the elevator it all caught up with him and he had to push the EMERGENCY STOP button as hysterics overwhelmed him. He laughed and cried for nearly five minutes. When the storm had passed, he felt a little better.
He's not falling apart, he told himself. There are a few little problems, but he's on top of them. The ballgame will probably be over by the first of October, and surely by the fifteenth. Everything's starting to go good, just like he said, and never mind that he almost killed me... never mind that he seems stranger than ever...
Lloyd got the call from Stan Bailey at Indian Springs fifteen minutes later. Stan was nearly hysterical between his fury at Trash and his fear of the dark man.