Billy shook his head. “She’s thirty-five, dipshit.”
Jake nodded. “That’s what I meant.”
“A thirty-five-year-old woman is better in bed than anything you ever had, numbnuts.”
“You want us to do something to her?” Charley asked, sensing they still had ground to make up with Billy.
“I’ll let you know. Right now, carry your boy to the skinning shed and leave him there. Then hose off the deck, go to the mudroom, and clean yourselves up. Leave your clothes there. Sonny will bring you fresh ones. Then go home and think about how you screwed up tonight. Say a prayer, and thank the Lord your dipstick is still connected to your body.”
“Yessir,” said Jake Whitten. “We’ll do that. Thank you.”
“Get out of my sight.”
Sonny pulled back the curtain once more, and the boys disappeared onto the deck.
Snake laughed softly. “I’ll be damned. Those punks ain’t ever gonna talk about what happened tonight. Did you think of that, son?”
Billy inclined his head toward the door through which Forrest had disappeared.
“They shit their pants when Forrest walked in with that mask on,” Sonny said.
“The only problem with all this,” Snake reflected, “is that Henry Sexton’s still breathing. I don’t blame Brody Royal for what he done, only that Randall picked a crap crew to handle the job. Now Henry’s spilling his guts to the FBI, and he’s probably being guarded around the clock. I could have shot him from four hundred yards out, from that cotton field across from the Beacon.”
“Henry may die yet,” Billy reminded them. “The last report I got said critical condition.”
“What does Forrest say?” Snake asked.
Billy gave his father a warning glance. “He’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“What about the Masters girl?” Sonny asked. “You’re not thinking of going after her? Her old man owns a shitload of newspapers.”
Billy shrugged. “Again, Forrest’s decision.”
“Well, where the hell is he?” Snake asked. “We need to talk about this. Is he already gone?”
“Ozan was waiting for him outside. I imagine they’ve gone to see Brody.”
“Whoa,” Sonny whispered. “That’s one face-off I’ll be happy to miss.”
“Forrest won’t do nothing,” Snake said. “Deep down, he knows Brody was right to hit Henry, and Brody’s the man with the power in his pocket.”
Billy was amazed by his father’s lack of perception. He couldn’t count the times he’d thanked his dead mother for her genetic blessings. “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “Forrest has his breaking point, like anybody else.”
“Well, I ain’t seen him hit it for a lot of years now.”
“I have,” Sonny whispered. “You’d better pray you never do. Forrest is his daddy made flesh again. Frank Knox come to life, only smarter.”
Snake smiled strangely. “Now that’s something I’d dearly love to see.”
Billy got up from his desk. “Before this mess is over, I’m afraid we’re all going to see it.” He turned to the door, then looked back. “Get those boys some clothes, Sonny. Camo jumpsuits are fine.”
Sonny walked to the side door, but Snake held his ground, staring at his son in silent reproach. Billy shook his head, then walked back to the bedroom, hoping to find Forrest still there.
He was.
Forrest stood before the dresser mirror, buttoning the double-pocketed shirt of his state police uniform. He spoke to Billy without looking at him.
“Brody’s gone off the reservation. We’re liable to get the FBI down here over the attack on Sexton. We’re going to Al Qaeda rules.”
“Al Qaeda rules” meant radio and phone silence. All messages from this point forward would be passed in person, face-to-face. “Okay,” Billy said, worried by the anger in his cousin’s voice. “When are you going to talk to Brody?”
“Tonight.” Forrest quickly tied his tie and cinched the knot tight. “I’ll send word to you later, let you know how it goes.”
“Brody must be pretty worried to have done this. You going to go easy on him?”
Forrest looked back at Billy, his eyes dark and cold. “What do you think?”
Then he placed his Stetson on his head, adjusted it in the mirror, and walked out without another word.
Billy sat on the bed, turned up the sound on Bullitt, and tried not to think about the future. His father worried him. Because as hard and cunning as Snake was, he somehow failed to grasp a central fact about his life: if Forrest ever decided that “Uncle Snake” was a threat to his plans, he would kill him with no more remorse than he’d felt killing VC cadre leaders in Vietnam or crack dealers in New Orleans. The same logic applied to Brody Royal, regardless of the older man’s money and power. Billy wondered whether Brody understood that any better than his father did. He hoped so. If he didn’t … the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
CHAPTER 47