The Bridge Trilogy Part 31

'It's spooky, is what it is.'

'He wouldn't hurt a fly,' Rydell said.

Sublett came back, looked at the picture on the tv, then sighed and shut it off. 'You know I'm not supposed to leave the trailer, Berry?'

'How's that?'

'It's a condition of my apostasy. They say I might corrupt the congregation by contact.' He perched on the edge of the recliner so he wouldn't have to actually recline in it.

'I thought you'd blown Fallon off when you came out to LA.'.

Suhlett looked embarra.s.sed. 'Well, she's hecn sick, Rerry,

2.52.

so when I came here I told 'em I was here to reconsider. Meditate on the box 'n' all.' He wrung his long pale hands. 'Then they caught me watching Videodrome. You ever see, uh, Deborah Harry, Rydell?' Sublett sighed and sort of quivered.

'How'd they catch you?'

'They've got it set up so they can monitor what you're watching.'

'How come they're out here anyway?'

Sublett ran his fingers back through his dry, straw-colored hair. 'Hard to say, but I'd figure it's got something to do with Reverend Fallon's tax problems. Most of what he does, lately, it's about that. Didn't your job in San Francisco work out, Berry?'

'No,' Rydell said, 'it didn't.'

'You want to tell me about it?' Rydell said he did.

'I think he shot through something to do with the d.a.m.ned heater, too,' Rydell said. They were back in the RV, outside the perimeter.

'I like your friend,' she said. 'I do too.'

'No, I mean he really cares about what's going to happen to you. He really does.'

'You take the bed,' he said. 'I'll sleep up front.' 'There's no windshield. You'll freeze.'

'I'll be okay.'

'Sleep back here. We did before. It's okay.'

He woke in the dark and listened to the sound of her breathing, to the creak of stiff old leather from the jacket spread over her shoulder.

Suhlett had listened to his story, nodding sometimes, asking a question here and there, his mirrored contacts reflecting tiny 253.

convex images of them sitting there on that loveseat. In the end he'd just whistled softly and said, 'Berry, it sounds to me like you're really in trouble now. Bad trouble.'

Really in trouble now.

Rydell slid his hand down, brushing one of hers by accident as he did it, and touched the bulge of his wallet in his back pocket. What money he had was in there, but Wellington Ma's card was in there, too. Or what was left of it. The last time he'd looked, it had broken into three pieces.

'Big trouble,' he said to the dark, and Chevette Washington lifted the edge of her jacket and sort of snuggled in closer, her breathing never changing, so he knew she was still asleep.

He lay there, thinking, and after a while he started to get this idea. About the craziest idea he'd ever had.

'That boyfriend of yours,' he said to her, in the tiny kitchen of Sublett's mother's trailer, 'that Lowell?'

'What about him?'

'Got a number we could reach him at?'

She poured milk on her cornflakes. It was the kind you mixed up from powder. Had that thin chalky look. The only kind Sublett's mother had. Sublett was allergic to milk. 'Why?'

'I think maybe I want to talk to him about something.'

'About what?'

'Something I think maybe he could help me with.'

'Lowell? Lowell's not gonna help you. Lowell doesn't give a rat's a.s.s for anybody.'

'Well,' Rydell said, 'why don't you just let me talk to him.'

'If you tell him where we are, or he has it traced back through the cd-net, he'll turn us in. Or he would if he knew anybody was after us.'

'Why?'

'He's just like that.' But then she gave Rydell the phone and the numher.

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'Hey, Lowell?'

'Who the f.u.c.k is this?'

'How you doin'?'

'Who gave you-'

'Don't hang up.'

'Listen, motherf-'

'SFPD Homicide.'

He could hear Lowell draw on a cigarette. 'what did you say?' Lowell said.

'Orlovsky. SFPD Homicide, Lowell. That big f.u.c.ker with the great big f.u.c.king gun? Came in the bar there? You remember. Just before the lights went out. I was over there by the bar, talking with Eddie the s.h.i.t.'

Lowell took another drag, shallower by the sound of it. 'Look, I don't know what you-'

'You don't have to. You can just hang uc right now, Lowell. But if you do, boy, you just better kiss your a.s.s goodbye. Because you saw Orlovsky come in there for the girl, Lowell, didn't you?

You saw him. He didn't wart you to. He wasn't in there on any SFPD business, Lowell. He was there on his own stick. And that's one serious bad oficer, Lowell. Serious as cancer.'

Silence. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Then you just listen, Lowell. Listen up. You don't listen, I'll tell Orlovsky you saw him. I'll give him this number. I'll give him your description, and that skinhead's, too. Tell him you been talking about him. And you know what he'll do, Lowell? He'll come out there and shoot your a.s.s dead, that's what he'll do. And n.o.body to stop him. Homicide, Lowell. Then he can investigate it himself, he wants to. Man's heavy, Lowell, I gotta tell ya.'

Lowell coughed, a couple of times. Cleared his throat. 'This is a joke, right?'

'I don't hear you laughing.'

'Okay,' Lowell said, 'say it's for real. Then ~hat? What're you after?'

255.

'I hear you know people can get things done. With computers and things.' He could hear Lowell lighting a fresh cigarette.

'Well,' Lowell said, 'sort of.'

'Republic of Desire,' Rydell said. 'I need you to get them to do me a favor.'

'No names,' Lowell said, fast. 'There's scans set to pick things out of traffic-'

"Them." "Them" okay? Need you to get them to do something for me.'

'It'll cost you,' Lowell said, 'and it won't be cheap.'

'No,' Rydell said, 'it'll cost you.'

He pressed the b.u.t.ton that broke the connection. Give old Lowell a little time to think about it; maybe look Orlovsky up on the Civil List, see he was there and he was Homicide. He flipped the little phone shut and went back into the trailer. Sublett's mother kept the air-conditioning up about two clicks too high.

Sublett was sitting on the loveseat. His white clothes made him look sort of like a painter, a plasterer or something, except he was too clean. 'You know, Berry, I'm thinking maybe I better get back to Los Angeles.'

'What about your mother?'

'Well, Mrs. Baker's here now, from Galveston? They been neighbors for years. Mrs. Baker can watch out for her.'

'That apostate c.r.a.p getting to you?'

'Sure is,' Sublett said, turning to look at the hologram of Fallon. 'I still believe in the Lord, Berry, and I know I've seen His face in the media, just like Reverend Fallon teaches. I have. But the rest of it, I swear, it might as well be just a flatout hustle.' Sublett almost looked like he might be about to cry. The silver eyes swung around, met Rydell's. 'And I been thinking about IntenSecure, Berry. What you told me last night. I don't see how I can go hack there and work, knowing the kinds of things they'll condone. I thou~ht I was at least

helping to protect people from a few of the evils in this world, Berry, but now I know I'd just be working for a company with no morals at all.'

Rydell walked over and had a closer look at the prayer-hankies. He wondered which one of them was

supposed to keep the AIDS off. 'No,' he said, finally, 'you go back to work. You are protecting people. That part's real. You got to make a living, Sublett.'

'What about you?'

'Well, what about me?'

'They'll just find you and kill you, Berry. You and her.'

'You, too, probably, if they knew what I'd told you. I shouldn't ought've done that, Sublett.

That's one reason Chevette and I have to get out of here. So there won't be any ha.s.sle for you and your mom.'

'Well,' Sublett said, 'I'm not working for them anymore, Berry. But I'm leaving here, too. I just have to.'

Rydell looked at Sublett, seeing him, somehow, in his full IntenSecure outfit, Glock and all, and suddenly that big crazy idea-thing sort of up and shook itself, and rolled over, revealing all these new angles. But you can't get him involved, Rydell told himself, it just wouldn't be fair.

'Sublett,' Rydell heard himself saying, about a minute later, 'I bet I got a career-option here you haven't ever even considered.'

'What's that?' Sublett said.

'Getting in trouble,' Rydell said.

33 Notebook

rice scouring pads broom detergent liquid sleeping bag stove fuel oil/gasket

He sleeps now. Rice with the curry from the Thai wagon. Asks where the girl has gone. Tell him Fontaine has heard from her but does not know where she is or why. The pistol on the shelf.

Reluctant to touch it (cold, heavy, smelling of oil, the dark blue finish worn to silver-gray down the sides of its muzzle, around the fluted segments of the cylinder. ('SMITH & WESSON.'

Thoma.s.son.) Tonight he spoke again of Shapely.