Though he was almost frantic with the desire to escape Valhalla, he knew he’d be insane to do anything but lie as still as he could and sweat as little as possible. If the pit bull outside caught his scent, he was doomed. Walt was wishing he’d hid his truck better when the sound of a helicopter coming over the trees reached him. Seconds later, the window began rattling as the chopper settled over the lodge as though preparing to land.
Walt dragged himself from beneath the bed, then struggled to his feet beside the window. Through the crack in the curtains, he saw the chopper disgorge six men and one German shepherd. Clad in black, the men moved easily beneath the rotor blast, and each carried a heavy gear bag as he trotted toward a building about thirty yards to the south. Walt felt a wild compulsion to use the cover of the rotors to run downstairs and make a break for the woods, but he knew better. Those rotors meant nothing to a dog’s nose, and now there was more than one dog down there.
He had no choice but to sit tight.
SONNY THORNFIELD WATCHED THE state police JetRanger bore in low over the trees and hover above the lodge, blasting leaves and pine straw and other debris into the air in a mini-tornado. Its rotors buffeted the air so hard that Sonny felt the waves like a bass drum in his chest.
“Why don’t he land down at the goddamn strip?” Snake shouted, flipping the bird to the pilot. “Lazy motherfucker!”
Sonny watched the big helo settle earthward on the other side of the lodge. Five seconds later it disappeared from view, and the noise dropped by 50 percent.
“That’s the beauty of having a chopper,” Billy said, a note of envy in his voice. “You can land where you want.”
Snake grumbled something unintelligible.
“I better go check on them,” Billy said, getting to his feet. “Forrest told me to make sure they had everything they needed.”
“Yeah, jump to it, Hop Sing,” Snake said. “Make sure they’ve all got butt wipes and a hair dryer.”
As Billy opened the sliding doors and walked back through the house, Snake shook his head and muttered, “SWAT, my ass. A SWAT team oughta be able to live on bugs in the middle of hell for ten days. These assholes need a goddamn babysitter?”
Sonny didn’t bother answering.
Suddenly Snake got up and walked down the steps of the deck, then made his way to the corner of the lodge and disappeared around it. Forrest’s pit bull followed at his heels. Sonny reluctantly got up and went after them.
The big JetRanger had landed in the clearing before the lodge. Three men clad in black were trotting between the chopper and bunkhouse, heads ducked beneath the spinning rotors.
“We got a problem, Sonny,” Snake said, loud enough to be heard over the rotors. “You know that?”
Sonny shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not so sure. Don’t you think maybe we ought to let Forrest try it his way first? Let him de-escalate the situation?”
Snake looked back at him like he was a fool. “Boy, you wanna close your eyes and follow the cattle right into the kill chute, don’t you? Anything’s better than facing the truth, I guess.”
“What truth are you talking about?”
“The fork in the river, Son. The parting of the ways.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Blood, boy. It don’t mean the same thing to everybody.”
“Huh?”
Snake spat and turned back toward the chopper, which looked like a gigantic metal insect that had risen out of the swamp. “You’ll find out soon enough. Mark my words, Son. I just hope I’m still around to say I told you so.”
Snake stepped from behind the wall and started toward the chopper and the bunkhouse.
“Where you going?” Sonny called. “Snake!”
Snake looked back and grinned. “Just bein’ friendly. I’m gonna make these boys feel at home, like Forrest said to.”
Then he began to trot toward the chopper, one hand raised in greeting.
CHAPTER 34
THE NOISE KAISER and I heard from the hotel bathroom was Dwight falling off the toilet. When we reached him, he was bruised and angry but basically no worse than before. After Kaiser and I lifted him back onto the toilet, I cleaned him up and wheeled him to the bed while Kaiser wiped up the vomit he’d left on the floor. Without the headboard to support him, I don’t think Stone could hold himself up, yet the unquenchable light still shines from his sunken eyes and yellow face.
Despite my internal distress, I sit in the desk chair and wait for Kaiser to take his seat on the sofa beneath the picture window. After he does, Stone begins speaking with slightly diminished volume. “Penn, I know why you’re still sitting here. You want to know what I know about your father. I’m going to tell you that. But you have to trust me about something. Without context, the information would be almost useless to you. To understand Tom’s involvement, you’ve got to understand and accept what happened in Dallas, and why.”
“You mean that Carlos Marcello killed Kennedy? What if I tell you I do accept that?”
A faint smile touches Stone’s lips. “You don’t really believe it. Think like the prosecutor you once were for a moment. Glenn Morehouse and Henry Sexton have given us a unique opportunity here. John Kennedy was shot forty-two years ago. Some members of my group have been working that case almost all that time. We’ve made real progress, but two years ago we hit a wall. Some of us have died in the interval since. I’ve been afraid I would die without knowing the truth, or worse, that it would never be known. But now we have a chance. Not only to discover the truth, but to prove it.”
“I understand, Dwight.”
“Do you? Because this opportunity is very fragile. If Tom is killed running from the police, the truth could die with him. If you push the Double Eagles too soon, or too hard, Forrest Knox could move to bury whatever evidence remains. That might mean killing some of his own family, and I don’t think he’d hesitate. We have to move quickly, but with the utmost care.”