A Crying Shame Page 9

  What exactly did you have in mind, Miss Gray?” Jon asked, keeping his voice as unemotional as possible. There was something about this brash little blonde that set the bells of suspicion ringing loudly in his head, warning him to be on guard.

  That’s a stupid question, Jon.” Linda looked at him. I’ll bet when Parker asked for volunteers Tammy almost broke her arms waving.”

  Tammy looked at Linda and smiled. About as sweetly as a Tasmanian devil looking at live lunch. Why, Miss Breaux! Whatever in the world do you mean? I go where Jim . . . Governor Parker tells me to go.”

  Her smile was returned; the only thing lacking was dripping bloody fangs. And I’m sure he’s told you where to go ... several times.”

  Ladies ...” Jon stepped between them. Not, he decided, a terribly wise move on his part. Why don’t we remember our manners and discuss this like rational adults?”

  Why, of course,” Linda said, shoving the mercenary aside like a sack of potatoes. She waved her hand in an exaggerated grandiose gesture of welcome. Do come in, Miss Grub.”

  That’s Gray!” Tammy corrected.

  Jon, now out on the porch where Linda had shoved him, picked up a small suitcase and looked at Linda. Oh, I don’t care!” she told him. Why don’t I just put a sign out on the porch: Rooms For Rent.”

  This wasn’t my idea,” Jon reminded her.

  Do you object to my staying out here?” Tammy asked innocently. It really was the governor’s idea.” Her eyes widened as they took in the pistol belted at Linda’s side. Why . . . you’re armed!”

  Linda smiled shrewdly. Yes, and so will you be if you decide to stay out here. Right, Jon?”

  Absolutely. If you want to stay alive, that is.”

  But,”—Linda’s smile widened—being from the city I’m sure you are unfamiliar with firearms.”

  Crap!” Tammy spat the word. Lady, I was raised on a farm outside Winnsboro. I’ve waded in more cowshit and shot more cottonmouths than you’ve eaten caviar.”

  Jon slipped into the house and got quickly out of the way, anticipating the verbal barrage that he was sure was coming.

  Linda arched an eyebrow expressively. Really! Winnsboro? How quaint. I’m certain you must have learned a great deal, watching the farm animals and so forth.”

  I’ll just take this into a guest room.” Jon indicated the suitcase.

  Linda spoke to him in rapid-fire Cajun French. She told him it mattered not what he did with the suitcase. And he could put it somewhere else if he so desired.

  Jon declined, also in French. He then beat a hasty exit from the room.

  Yeah, lady,” Tammy said. We did have a good time watching the bulls.”

  I’m sure that’s not all you did with them.”

  Hey, your highness! This may come as a shock to you, since you almost rusted your chastity belt watching me flirt with Badon last evening, but I really did not ask for this assignment. I was glad to get it, but Governor Parker sent me out here. And by God, whether you like it or not, I’m here for the duration, or your man there gets rousted out of this parish and this state and the State Department can go kiss a duck!”

  Neither you nor Governor Parker has the right to tell me who I shall entertain in my house!” Linda shouted.

  Wrong, lady. This is the scene of a crime . . . an unsolved crime. Murder. And Sheriff Saucier can damned sure rescind his permission for you and Badon to stay out here. And furthermore—”

  Oh, shut up!” Linda yelled.

  Jon slipped out the back door just as the two ladies were squaring off in the den. He chuckled softly as he walked to the shed, carrying two bags of ice he had taken from the back-porch ice machine. He had placed the dead Link in a large packing crate after first lining it with heavy plastic. As soon as Linda and Tammy—and he could not figure out why the governor had sent her—had finished mopping up the blood after their battles, they would all ride into town and arrange for the delivery of several large freezer units—industrial types, if possible. Then he would call Drs. von Pappen and Lewis. They would come running, he felt sure.

  Something crashed inside the home. Jon cringed, hoping it was not one of those lovely old vases.

  Who’d you have to screw to get on the governor’s staff?” Linda screamed, her words blasting through the humid air.

  Screw?” Tammy squalled. I got on the staff because I hold a master’s in political science and am a damned smart woman, that’s how!”

  In a pig’s ass!”

  Something else hit the wall.

  Jon decided to walk the grounds, first stashing his M-10 in the workshop, with the dead Link.

  At the edge of the carefully tended grounds, Jon saw a man get out of a pickup truck and walk toward him.

  The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Jon’s sidearm, but he said nothing about it. Rich people do funny things sometimes. Sir? I’m Jamie Tymes; I work for Despair. There’s a jeep parked down the road, ‘bout a mile down, ’longside one of our turn-rows. Been there all morning. Looks like it was there all night. Got that look, you know? Engine’s cold as a hammer. It belong to you?”

  No.” Jon squinted and could just make out sunlight bouncing off polished metal. I don’t know who it belongs to. If someone doesn’t claim it soon, I’ll call Mike Saucier.”

  The workman relaxed. This big rough-lookin’ dude knew the sheriff; called him by his first name. So everything must be all right.

  Much work left to do before harvest?” Jon asked.

  No, sir. We’re done moppin’ and with most of the sprayin.’ Waitin’ is the name of the game now. For a few more weeks, that is.”

  I see,” Jon said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, counting out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. He handed them to the surprised man. Miss Breaux wants you and the other hands to take the next week off. Full pay. This is a bonus. Divide it equally between the other men.”

  Yes, sir,” the startled hand said, pocketing the bills. But I don’t understand, sir.”

  We’re expecting . . . company during the next week. And some of it will be quite unexpected, I assure you.” Jon was not really lying to the man. We don’t wish to be disturbed. It ... has to do with Paul Breaux’s death.”

  Oh. Yes, sir. Now I get it. When’s the funeral?”

  That’s been delayed for a time. Some legal problems have arisen.”

  Sure was sorry to hear about Mr. Breaux. He was a fine, fair fellow to work for. They catch them that done it?”

  Not yet. That money I gave you is just for the hands. I’ll see Cooper later.”

  Yes, sir.” He knew a dismissal when he heard one. The caste system is alive and well in the deep South. And you tell Ms. Breaux thanks from all of us. Tell her how sorry we all are about Mr. Breaux.”

  I’ll do that, Jamie. See you around.”

  Yes, sir. Good talkin’ with you.” Even if I don’t know who you are.

  Jon waited until the farmhand’s truck was out of sight, then leaned against a fence post, waiting for another fifteen minutes, thinking. Actually, the idea of Tammy staying was appealing. Two beautiful women on the edge of the great swamp, and the Links were hunting mates. The Links would soon know about Tammy, for Jon sensed they watched the house from the swamp. And they would soon pick up on the silence in the fields, the last of the human workers having left. Then the women should bring the Links to the house.

  You’re cold-blooded, Badon,” he muttered. You’re willing to sacrifice two innocents for your own gain. For your own warped, sometimes quixotic quest for adventure, searching for the ultimate high of combat. Is that not correct, mercenary? he questioned his mind.

  Yes, came the silent reply. To a degree. But as long as the women do what I tell them to do, they are really quite safe.

  Sure they are, Badon. Sure.

  He shook his head, freeing his mind of such troublesome items. He walked back to the house. Whatever had been broken in anger had been picked up, the den straightened. Linda and Tammy sat on th
e couch, chatting quietly, very amicably. Jon looked at the pair and shook his head, thinking that the older he grew, the less he understood women.

  Linda smiled at him. We were only two years apart at LSU.”

  How perfectly marvelous for you,” Jon replied.

  Yes, isn’t it?” Tammy flashed him a smile, batting her blues. We have mutual friends.”

  I’m so delighted to hear it,” Jon said sarcastically. He looked at Tammy. Miss Gray, what side are you on in this caper?”

  I ... don’t believe I understand the question.” She side-stepped, stalling.

  Yeah, you understand me, Miss Gray.”

  She said nothing in rebuttal.

  Linda looked at him, puzzled at his questioning. Then she smiled, patting the couch cushion beside her. Sit down, Jon.” He did. The governor knows only what Sheriff Saucier read in my brother’s journals. But I think—and so, as it turns out, does Tammy—there is much more to it. I know my brother destroyed some papers just a few days before . . . before he was killed. I think only you know the entire story, and I don’t believe you’ve been totally honest with that knowledge. So why don’t you tell us the truth, Jon?”

  Jon lit one of his slim cigars and thought for a moment. All right,” he said quietly. I’ll do that.” As much as I feel I can get away with, that is.

  Sheriff Saucier looked at the tach team leader and shook his head. He would make one more attempt to dissuade the man, although he knew his attempts would be futile. You’re making a mistake, Burt. You and your men are going off into the unknown without proper preparation. We have no way of knowing how many of those . . . things are in the swamp.”

  Lt. Burt Poyson buckled and snapped himself into his gear. Mike, Governor Parker has ordered Colonel Jeansonne to send in some teams to reconnoiter the area. What would you have me do: tell Colonel Jeansonne the six best-trained tach men in the state refuse to go? Sure. And me and the boys here,”—he jerked his thumb—come next Monday, would all be directing traffic in downtown Jigger, Louisana—permanently.”

  Mike sighed. I tried. That’s all I can do.”

  Look, Mike, game wardens have been going into that swamp and prowling for years; they’ve never seen a thing. All you have to go on is the word of an ex-mercenary, a dead man, and one hysterical woman. Okay, so you found strange . . . prints. Fine. I can also agree the picture of that . . . thing she killed is pretty damned gruesome. All right. There probably are more than one of them in there. Three or four could hide forever. But a hundred or more? No way, Mike.”

  Good luck, Burt,” Mike said.

  Thanks.”

  Sheriff Saucier watched them leave the staging area: a fishing camp on the Fain River. Six men in three boats. They were all armed with sidearms and AR-15s, and they were, to a man, well-trained. Mike lifted a hand in farewell and wished them good hunting.

  He wondered if he would ever see any of them again. Alive, that is.

  So my brother believed some form of insanity was creeping into the strain?” Linda asked.

  Had already done so,” Jon replied. He could feel Tammy’s eyes on him. Something about her didn’t jell. He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling. About three years ago a tourist stopped his car on highway 34, on the north edge of the swamp. A witness said a person answering the man’s description was seen kicking the rear tire of his car. He was never seen again. When deputies got there, the car was still running, but the man was gone. Incidents such as that one have occurred three times in that many years. At least these are the ones that Paul could substantiate. God only knows how many hitchhikers have been taken. A conservative estimate would be—according to Paul’s studies—twenty-five to fifty over the past three years.”

  But no way to prove it?” Linda asked.

  No.”

  But . . .” Tammy paused, cocking her head, strands of blonde hair falling over one eye. Jon recalled that actress ... what was her name? Jan Sterling, he believed, used to do the same thing for effect. Damn! he thought. I’m getting old. . . . The Links who are normal, so to speak—hell of a way to put it, isn’t it?—are not responsible for any deaths. According to Paul.”

  That is correct,” Jon told her. Only those whose minds, or whatever you wish to call it, have been affected . . . become unbalanced. Paul felt that probably with this breeding season . . . or rather, this birthing season, which is now, if I recall his journals correctly, the Links might be able to produce a female baby.”

  Human, or Link?” Linda asked.

  Jon shrugged. Who knows?”

  Because the strain has been so diluted?” Tammy inquired.

  Curious sort, Jon thought, keeping his face unemotional. She’s up to something besides being Parker’s aide. Yes, partly. But he believed they were becoming acclimated to a change in diet, some change in living habits, the chemicals in the water and in the air. I don’t know that for a fact—neither did he. I’m going to call two scientist friends of mine; might as well do that now. I worked with them in Africa and New Guinea, and Burma—among other places. If I know them—and I do—they’ll come running.”

  He rose from the couch and walked to a phone, standing there for a moment, consulting a small leather address book he had taken from his back pocket. He got the operator and gave her the numbers. Within seconds he was speaking in rapid-fire German. He listened for a few seconds, said, Das ist gut. Danke. Lebewohl!” He turned, smiling.

  Better luck than I expected. They’re both in New York, preparing for a trip overseas after lecturing last night.”

  He dialed direct to the hotel in New York City and spoke in German for several minutes, pausing to nod his head and laugh occasionally. He hung up, smiling. They’ll be here in twenty-four hours, or less, bringing what equipment they can beg, borrow, or steal. They’ll rent a van in New Orleans and drive up here.”

  What do we do in the interim?” Linda asked.

  Drive into town and buy some freezers so I can store more dead Links.”

  But we don’t have any more dead Links, Jon.”

  We will.” He smiled.

  Gross!” Tammy said.

  Late afternoon slipped quietly into dusk over Fountain Parish. The cypress trees now took on an ominous character, the hanging moss resembling grotesque creatures, dangling darkly as if waiting for a victim to slide past. Sheriff Saucier stood up and walked to the porch of the fishing camp; the accusing eyes of Joe Ratliff were on him, boring into his back.

  They ain’t comin’ back,” Joe said. Them last shots was fired in combat.”

  You don’t know that,” Mike said, not turning around, but rather speaking to the swamp. He slapped at a mosquito. That’s only a guess on your part.”

  That many shots fired that fast ain’t no guess. Them was combat shots, and you know it, Mike.”

  Mike felt the man was right, but he just didn’t want to admit it. He felt . . . sick at his stomach. He hadn’t eaten all day, and it was a good thing he hadn’t, as he was about to discover.

  Burn that swamp out!” Joe said, his voice rising, heat in his words. We can drive ’em toward one central point with fire, just like the good Lord is gonna do the sinners of this earth when the day of Armageddon dawns, when the great battle between good and evil is fought. When—”

  Oh, shut up, Joe! Damn it, I’m tired of hearing you rattle. Goddamn it, man, let up on me!”

  The men became silent as night crawled steadily around the camp, darkening the already-gloomy bayou, with its dark waters and still vegetation. Joe opened his mouth to speak and Mike waved him silent because of what his eyes had just seen. Something on the water, Joe. It’s a boat. No lights. Come on, the boat looks like it’s sinking.”

  Both men felt their stomachs flip-flop as they waded into the water to pull the water-logged craft to shore. What was left of Burt Poyson lay in bloody water in the boat. One arm had been ripped off the man, snapped off at the elbow. All the flesh on one side of his face was missing, exposing the whiteness of skull and jawbone. The eye was
missing from that side of his face. He had used the small trolling motor sparingly in order to stay in the sluggish stream of current. The big outboard motor was gone; water sloshed in the bottom of the boat, greasy-looking and dark as it mixed with the trooper’s blood. Poyson lifted his head. His one remaining eye was bright with pain.

  Hit us about . . . four o’clock.” The words, slurred from pain, were spoken in short gasps. Must have been ... twenty-five or thirty . . . of them. Awful-lookin’ things. Monsters. Me and Art . . . managed to fight them ... back. Things not dumb. Set snares with . . . ropes. Made of vines. Made nooses. Jerked Art . . . right out of ... the boat. Saw them eating . . . him. Alive. Tell Jeansonne. . . tell him . . . we tried.... I ... my men . . .”

  Lt. Burt Poyson lowered his bloody head and closed his eye. He shivered as he began his journey down the dark and lonely river to the Stygian shore.

  Both lawmen stood in shocked and somewhat confused silence for a few moments, allowing night to spread her dark cloak all around them. It seemed to them that this particular night was much darker than any they could remember. But they did not speak that thought, only shared it mentally.

  Bullfrogs croaked in the darkness; birds called and wheeled and soared; a ’gator grunted deep in the watery blackness.

  And both men sensed they were being watched.

  By them.

  Them godless devil-men is watchin’ us, Mike.”

  I know it.”

  Creatures of evil!” Joe said.

  Mike did not disagree.

  Joe jerked his .357 from leather and emptied it into the darkness, firing from rage and helpless frustration. He ejected the empties and refilled the cylinder. The land around them was strangely silent after the roaring of the pistol.

  I really hope you didn’t shoot some frog-gigger,” Mike said.

  I’ll get the camera,” Joe said. I guess you’re gonna cover this up, too.” It was not a question.

  While you’re doing that,” Mike said, securing the boat to the dock with the bow line, I’ll call Sundra.”