The Devil's Laughter Page 17

  Link recognized one of the young men, Carl Russell, a local thug and troublemaker. He floorboarded the pedal and the heavy Bronco surged forward. The big bumper, with its heavy gauge expanded metal protector from bumper to top of hood, slammed into Carl, knocking him over one fender and tossing him into the ditch, one of his legs twisted grotesquely.

  “My word!” John said, looking at the battered and broken and very much unconscious Carl Russell. “You certainly don’t believe in the art of diplomacy, do you, Link?”

  “Not in cases like this,” Link said, stepping out of the Bronco and firing two shots into the air. “That’s it!” he shouted. “The fight’s over.”

  One of the thugs cursed Link and jerked a gun out of his back pocket. Link shot him in the belly and dropped him to the street. He lay with both hands clutching his stomach, screaming in pain.

  “You other two feel lucky today?” Link asked the men still on their feet.

  They turned and ran off, ducking behind the house. Link walked over to Mark and hauled him to his feet.

  The young priest had literally had the snot beat out of him. One eye was closing, he had a busted lip and a bloody nose, and one side of his jaw was badly bruised.

  “You obviously have not had a lot of luck spreading the gospel today, Mark,” Link said.

  “Your humor is grotesque, Mr. Donovan,” the priest replied. “But your statement is reasonably accurate. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  “Oh, goddamn, help me, please, it hurts so bad!” the punk on the asphalt hollered.

  “We have to call that man an ambulance,” Mark said.

  Link thought of the old joke and smiled. “Get in your car, Mark. Now. And we’ll follow you back to your quarters, where you can pack and then come out to my place. Now, move!”

  “But these men. They – ”

  “You hardheaded fool!” Father Lattier stuck his head out the window and shouted. “I’m tired of your foot-dragging. Now you are in this parish to serve both the Lord and me. And I’m telling you to get in your damn car and do it right now!”

  “Yes, Father Lattier,” Mark said, and walked to his car.

  Back in his Bronco, Link turned on the sheriffs department walkie-talkie and keyed it open. “This is Link Donovan. Anybody listening?”

  “That’s a ten-four, Link. This is Tom. What’s going on?”

  “Four hoods were beating up Father Palombo. Over on ... ah ... Elm Street. I ran over Carl Russell and shot one of the others when he pulled a gun on me. If you want to dispatch an ambulance, that’s fine. I’m leaving them in the road.”

  Ray came on before Tom could reply. “You did what, Link? Never mind. I heard you. I’m on my way. Stay put.”

  “Why?” Link radioed.

  “Because it’s procedure and I told you to stay there, that’s why. Damnit, Link. Jesus, you just can’t just shoot somebody and – ”

  Link turned off the walkie-talkie and pulled out behind Father Palombo.

  Father Lattier looked down at the gut-shot hoodlum lying in the street. The man spat at the passing Bronco and cussed those inside. The priest cut his eyes to Link Donovan. Link was sticking a piece of gum into his mouth. Carl Russell had not moved. In the distance, sirens wailed.

  Chapter 20

  “Where is Link, Father?” Gerard asked. He, the sheriff, and Cliff stood in the den of Link’s house.

  The old priest shook his head. “I don’t know. He dropped us off and then went back to town. He’s been gone several hours.”

  “Here he comes,” Paul said, looking out the window and recognizing Link’s Bronco.

  Link walked in. There were bloodstains on his shirt and jacket.

  “Are you hurt?” Anne asked.

  “It isn’t my blood.”

  “What have you been up to now?” Ray asked.

  “Getting some answers to some questions. And doing it my way. I’ll change shirts, build me a drink, and then we’ll talk.”

  “Link, it’s full dark out,” Gerard said. “It’s a dangerous time. I – ”

  Link walked up the hall and closed the door to his bedroom.

  “Asshole,” Gerard muttered under his breath.

  “Suzanne and I made a huge pot of vegetable soup,” Anne said. “And baked bread. How about some dinner?”

  “I’d love it,” Cliff said.

  The men were digging in when Link returned, made himself a drink, and sat down at the dining room table. He had been wearing gloves when he’d first entered the house. Now the men could see his hands were bruised and slightly swollen.

  “The guy you shot today is dead. His name is – was – Bruce Watkins.”

  “I’m so overcome with grief I’ll probably not sleep a wink tonight.”

  Cliff dunked a hunk of fresh-baked bread into his soup and stuck it in his mouth, chewing silently.

  “I’m glad to hear it, Link. Carl Russell is probably not going to live, either. Dr. Bradshaw – who by the way is the only doctor we now have who is functioning in this crazy town – says that Carl has massive internal injuries. You have anything to say about that, Link?”

  “You want me to send flowers?”

  “Jesus, Link. Nobody’s that cold.”

  “Just me and Dirty Harry, I guess.”

  “Link,” Cliff said, “nobody is blaming you for what you did this afternoon. It’s my understanding that you had no choice in the matter. But just driving off and leaving a badly injured man to die is ... well, appalling.”

  Link’s smile was hard. “You mean it’s not the American way, Cliff?”

  “Well, yes, if you want to put it that way.”

  “This isn’t America here, Cliff. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Ray asked. “If it isn’t America, what is it?”

  “Hell,” Link said softly.

  “That’s a little melodramatic, isn’t it?” Gerard asked.

  “Let’s all just leave,” Suzanne suggested.

  “That’s what they want us to do,” Link said. “Besides that, it won’t work.” He rose from the table and took his drink into the den, sitting down in his chair.

  Ray followed him and sat down on an ottoman. “How do you know it won’t work?” Before Link could reply, the sheriff said, “What’s wrong with us leaving and seeking outside help? We’ll be gone one night and back in the morning with help. We’ll have to do some tall talking to convince people, but I think we can do it. And I’m not alone in that. So does Cliff, Gerard, and our families.”

  “And you think you’ll return to what?” Link asked.

  “I ... well, hell, Link! We’ll return to this town and get this matter resolved.”

  “What matter? There won’t be any matter to resolve. The instant you pull out, this town will be back to normal just like nothing ever happened. The instant you pull out, the people who are active in this coven will be bathed and shaved and perfumed and so law-abiding they’ll squeak when they walk. Those who have been behaving as if in a fog will snap out of it with no memory of anything ever being out of whack. They’re counting on you doing that, Ray. And let me tell you something else: In the thirteen or fourteen hours between now and dawn, if you pull out, those good people whose minds have been clouded will be slaves of the devil. They won’t know they are. But they will be. And we’ll be made to look like fools in the eyes of the lawmen who come back with us. And one by one, your minds – yours, your family, all of you – will be taken over or you’ll be dead in freak accidents.”

  “You keep saying when you pull out. You’re not including yourself in that?” Gerard asked.

  “No. I’m not leaving. So you take your people and run, Ray. Tuck your little tails between your legs and run away like scared little puppies.” That stung the men and they flushed. “But do me one favor. I’ll give you the money to do it. Get some trucks with camper shells on them and take my animals with you. Board them in Ruston or Shreveport or Monroe. Do that much for me. Because I’ll be dead when you get
back, Ray. Bet on that. I’ll be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Oh, I’ll take a bunch with me. But I’ll still be dead. But there is no reason for an innocent animal to suffer because of its so-called master’s actions.”

  Ray stared at him. “All you’ve said is pure conjecture, Link.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Link said, after taking a sip of his whiskey and water. “And you can add two more names to the list of dead. Artie Grubb and Duncan Haroldson.”

  Ray stiffened. “What the hell have you done now, Link?”

  “I kidnapped them at the point of a gun, as the legal boys like to say. I took them way out in the country, and I tortured the truth out of them.”

  Cliffs look was hard. “I warned you about that type of action, Link.”

  “Well, Cliff, I would tell you what you can do with your warnings, but there are ladies present. I have to live with what I did, not you. So why don’t you just shut up and sit down, and I’ll tell you all that I learned.”

  Some had to sit on the floor, but they all found a place. Link said, “I figured it would come to this. But I wanted to hear it from the mouths of a couple of those creeps.” He took a micro-cassette out of his shirt pocket. “I taped it. But I wouldn’t play it while eating, since you professional lawmen seem to have such delicate stomachs.

  “Now, damnit, Link!” Ray flared. “I don’t need that kind of crap from you.”

  “You have my totally insincere apologies.” Link shook his head and held up one hand. “Forget I said that. I never tortured anyone before. When it was over, I puked my guts out. Now I’m drinking on an empty stomach, and I plan on getting drunk. The screaming got to me, I guess.” He sighed.

  “Anyway, Haroldson worked for the state highway department. Effective immediately, so it’s been done by now, the bridge just north of town on 167 has been condemned. All traffic detoured around us ...”

  Now it was Ray’s turn to sigh. “I should have guessed it,” he said.

  “. . . South of us has been under construction for months, anyway. All that leaves us is some dinky-assed parish roads that any tourists wouldn’t use, anyway. We’re not cut off, not by any means. We can leave by a dozen different routes. We’re just more isolated, is all. We’ve got radios and we have phones. So when the crap hits the Mixmaster, what would prevent us from calling out for help? Nothing. Nothing at all. So they changed their plans. They couldn’t scare us out, they can’t beat us using force, so they’re going to wait us out and then take us out one at a time, over a period of months. I think. I sure could be wrong.”

  The roomful of people became silent. Jeff Miller broke the silence. “So . . . what do we do?”

  “Well, we have several options,” Link said. “You can run away; move out of the parish and never come back. You can stay and either be killed or have your minds taken over by the devil. Or you can take the fight to them. Which is what I’m going to do.” He looked hard at Ray, Gerard, and Cliff. “And I don’t care whether any of you like it or not. I’ll warn you now: If you get in my way, I’ll hurt you.”

  Book Two

  “Do unto the other fellow the way he’d like

  to do unto you, and do it first.”

  E. N. Westcott

  Chapter 1

  Link had been expecting some sort of shouting match from Ray and Cliff and Gerard. None came.

  The sheriff sat on the ottoman and looked at him. Cliff Sweeney stood silently. Gerard leaned against the wall and was silent.

  “You’re talking wholesale murder, Link,” Ray finally spoke.

  “At first, maybe.” Link drained his glass and waved off Anne’s offer to fix him another. “One’s enough,” he said. “That drunk talk was just that – talk. I can’t afford to get sloppy now.”

  “What do you mean by ‘at first, maybe’?” Gerard asked.

  “We push. We take the fight to those we know belong to the coven. And I read the names on that list to Haroldson and Grubb. They added a hundred more. It’s all on that tape. Judge Jackson and Federal Judge Britton are at the top of the list. Along with Jackson’s wife. We make them fight. We either do that or we run – you run, I’m not going to run – or we die, one at a time, or we roll over and let them take control of our minds. We don’t have any other choices left us.”

  “You got a plan?” Trooper Miller asked.

  “Take out the leaders first.”

  “You want to kill a couple of judges without any clear proof that they have a thing to do with what’s happening here?” Cliff asked. “You’ve lost your mind, Donovan. I just heard you say you want to kill a federal judge. I’m supposed to arrest you, right now, on the spot.”

  “All right, Cliff,” Link said easily. “Arrest me.”

  Cliff heard a shucking sound and cut his eyes. Anne was holding a sawed-off twelve gauge, and the muzzle was pointing at his stomach. The sound had been her sliding a round into the slot. Paul held a Mini-14 assault rifle, pointing at him. Jimmy Hughes was holding a Colt AR-15, pointing at the Bureau man. Tom Halbert had pulled his 9mm from leather. Cliff swallowed hard and tensed, being very careful not to move his hands.

  “Steady people,” Ray said softly. “Just stand easy. Nobody is going to arrest Link. Now lower the guns, folks. We’re all in this together, remember?”

  Muzzles were lowered and Cliff breathed again. “I said I was supposed to arrest you, Link. I didn’t say I was going to.”

  Ray, Gerard, and Cliff looked at each other. Gerard said, “They really worked this out carefully, didn’t they? The coven members, I mean. They knew this would split us apart. As lawmen, we can’t go along with Link’s plan. But if we don’t, we’ve had it. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.”

  “Think about this, Cliff,” Link said. “They can’t let you out of this box. Not alive. You know too much. You’ve either got to die or join them. Whatever or whoever or whomever is blocking the minds of those agents in your Shreveport office can’t do it forever. You’ve got to go back to work sometime.”

  Cliff nodded his head, looked around and found his topcoat, and slipped it on, walking to the front door. With his back to the group, he said, “I’ll drive myself back to your house, Gerard. I’m a cop, but I’m also a Christian. Sometimes the two conflict. If I’m attacked, I’m going to fight. But I’m also on vacation. I’m not on duty. I’m in the islands; I don’t know what is going on Stateside. So I’m just going to lounge around your house and do some work. I’m very good with tools and there are some things that need to be done. The porch has some spots in it that need to be torn up and replaced. The patio railing needs to be replaced. A lot of work to be done in the barn. Your families will be safe there. I won’t leave the grounds and I’ll be well armed at all times.” He turned around and looked at Link. “Good hunting, Mr. Donovan.” Cliff Sweeney opened the door and walked out into the cold night.

  Ray stood up. “We’ll keep the peace in the parish, Gerard, Tom. We’ll do what we’re paid to do.” He looked at the two troopers. “I would suggest that you boys relax out here and sort of keep an eye on things. After this is over – and it will be over,” he said with a sigh, “I’d tell my troop commander that Link knew you boys had some time off and he hired you to act as security for his place; death threats against him and his pets and all that, you know? Yes, sir, that’s what I’d do, all right. It’s called CYA, boys. Cover Your Ass. You got anything you’d like to say, Gerard?”

  The chief deputy shoved away from the wall. “I guess not, Ray. It’s all been said, I suppose.”

  “All right. Come the morning, we’ll see how the town looks. If people have cleaned up their act, we’ll know that Link’s information was correct.” He looked at Link: “When you start, ol’ buddy, you know it’s not going to take long before the lid blows off this thing.”

  “I know. I’m counting on it.”

  “You real sure you got the stomach for this thing?”

  “I’ve got the stomach.”

  “What’d you d
o with the bodies of Haroldson and Grubb?”

  Link stared at the man.

  Ray nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “I get the message. Good night.”

  Link was gone by six-thirty the next morning. He drove to town. The trucks were running, delivering bread to stores. The milk trucks were out, delivering milk to the supermarkets. The mail truck rolled in behind the post office and backed up to the dock.

  Everything looked normal. But it didn’t feel normal. He drove to the outskirts of town and checked out a motel cafe. It was closed. The No Vacancy sign was still on. He drove to the other motels. Cafes closed and no rooms for rent.

  “You screwed up, people,” Link muttered. “You almost pulled it off. But I put a kink in your plans and you just didn’t have the time to get everything back to normal. Now you’ve got to get rid of me. You have no choice in the matter. All right,” he said, driving away from the last motel and heading for the supermarket where Jimmy had worked. “I’m the magnet. Come to me, people. Come on.”

  He parked and went into the supermarket. The place had just opened for business. It was clean. The floors were swept, the shelves were stocked, and the vegetables and meats were fresh and shining. The smell of unwashed human flesh was no longer noticeable. The manager spotted Link and came rushing over, all smiles. He stuck out his hand.

  Link looked at it until the man finally flushed and dropped his hand. “You fucked up,” he told the manager. “You should have gotten rid of me the very first thing.”

  The man’s eyelids narrowed and his face mottled with anger. He clenched his hands into fists. “I ... ah ... don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Donovan.”

  “You’re a liar. What is your name, anyway?”

  “Louis Waldren.”

  Two butchers walked out to stand behind the display counters. They wore bloody aprons, and both carried long knives and wore very unfriendly expressions.