Jo-el said, "Don't worry about it, Tommy. He'll be there."

Willets stayed with it. "We should know where everyone is. There might be shooting. Be a shame if somebody got shot accidental-like."

Pike said, "Don't worry about it, Willets."

Willets frowned, but he let it go.

Berry said, "Where we gonna be?"

Boudreaux said, "We'll set up in the cane with a view through the doors. We'll have to hide the cars off the main road, then hike in. I want you fellas to go home and get your waders. You're gonna need'm."

Willets said, "How much time do we have? I got things I need to do."

Boudreaux checked his watch. "We got about an hour before we have to get in place. That about right?" He looked at me, asking. I nodded, and Willets snorted, disgusted that Boudreaux would ask. Boudreaux ignored him and went on. "I want you boys to change into old clothes, cause we're gonna get wet, but I want everybody in a Sheriff's Department sh.e.l.l parka. I wanna know who's who out there." Boudreaux had brought it to the end, and now he looked at me. "I think maybe we oughta get going. You got anything you wanna say?"

"Yeah. n.o.body shoot me."

Berry and Champagne laughed, and everybody stood, moving toward the door. The sheriff went to Merhlie Comeaux, and Lucy pulled me aside. Her mouth was still in the tight line, and she pulled me as far from the others as she could. She said, "Do you really have to be out there?"

"I've done things like this before. Trust me."

Her nostrils flared, and she stared across the room, frowning. "Well, isn't that just great. And what do I get to do, wait here with the womenfolk?"

"If you ask him nice, Pike might loan you a rifle."

She said, "Oh, right," and stalked away to Comeaux.

Pike looked at me from across the room and c.o.c.ked his head toward the door. I met him there. He said, "You okay with these guys?"

"They're what we have."

He glanced at Willets. "I don't like the dip with the att.i.tude."

"See you on the other side, Joe."

Pike nodded, and I went out to my car and left for the Bayou Lounge.

Years ago, a friend and I booked a package cruise from Tahiti to Hawaii, sailing north. The pa.s.sage took five days, crossing waters so remote that we were beyond all radio contact with land. As we sailed, the sea grew deeper until, three days out of Papeete, the crew told us that the sonar could no longer the bottom. The charts said that the bottom was seventeen thousand feet beneath the hull, but, for all purposes, the ocean was bottomless. No way to know what's down there, they said. No way to call home for help, they said. Here there be monsters.

Great dense clouds grew on the western horizon, towering anvil thunderheads that rolled steadily toward me, filling the sky with the slate-steel color of deep ocean water, water with no bottom.

Chapter 36.

A light rain fell as I parked on the oyster sh.e.l.l lot next to the Bayou Lounge. The heavy cloud layer brought an early twilight that filled the air with an expectancy of wind and lightning. Four or five American sedans were lined up on the oyster sh.e.l.ls and, inside, half a dozen guys hawked the bar, scarfing poboys and Dixie beer. The woman with the hair smiled when she saw me and said, "Sugah, I didn't think you'd pa.s.s this way again.""Small world, isn't it?"

"Oh," she said. "It's a lot bigger than we think." A guy with a grease-stained Evinrude cap laughed when she said it.

I ordered a club soda and took it to one of the little tables by the door. The door was wedged open and it was cooler there, but it was a damp cool that made my skin clammy. The Dan Wesson would be picking up a lot of moisture, and I would have to clean it before it began to pit. Of course, if things didn't go well tonight, I wouldn't have to worry about it.

A couple of minutes later LeRoy Bennett's Polara pulled past the door and LeRoy Bennett came in, shaking his hat to get rid of the rain. He was wearing an Australian drover's coat, and he looked not unlike the Marlboro man. Cancer on the hoof. The woman with the hair squealed, "Hey, LeRoy," and leaned across the bar to plant one on his cheek. His face split with a smile and he pawed at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she pushed him away like she didn't really mean it. A couple of the good ol' boys at the bar nodded at him, and he shook one man's hand. Old home week with the barfly regulars. He got a long-necked Dixie for himself, then came over and dropped into the chair across from me. His eye was still dark from where Joe Pike had hit him. He said, "Where're your spics?"

I said, "I'm here early."

He had some of the Okie, shooting a wink at the woman with the hair. "Yeah? Well, your spics better show or you in deep do-do."

I said, "LeRoy?"

He was sucking at his teeth.

"Do yourself a favor and don't call them spics."

LeRoy frowned like I was a t.u.r.d. "That's what they are, ain't they?"

I shook my head. Some people never learn. Some people you just can't talk to.

I said, "Where's Milt?"

"He'll be here."

"I thought he might come with you."

LeRoy pulled on the Dixie. "You jus' worry about your spics." He lipped a Tarryton 100 and lit it with a big steel Zippo. The first two fingers on his right hand were yellow with smoke stains. His fingernails were grimed. He grinned at me and let the smoke leak out between his teeth. Probably hadn't brushed in a year.

LeRoy got up and put money in the jukebox. He finished the first Dixie and got himself a second. While he was at the bar the woman with the hair whispered something in his ear, and he whispered something back. She laughed. It's odd what appeals to people, isn't it? The guy with the Evinrude cap and a heavier guy who walked with a limp went home. I wished I could go with them. The rain came harder, filling ruts and depressions in the sh.e.l.l lot and hammering on the bar's roof, and little by little the remains of day were lost to the night. The parking lot filled with white light two quick times, followed almost instantly by twin booms of thunder, and the guys at the bar applauded. The thunder was so loud and so near that the little building shook, rattling gla.s.ses and making the jukebox skip. And they talk about earthquakes.

At two minutes before eight, headlights swung across the door, a baby blue BMW crunched onto the lot, and Frank Escobar came in, the guy with the pocked face holding an umbrella the size of a parachute canopy. LeRoy said, "Well, it's about G.o.dd.a.m.ned time." He was working on his third Dixie and he said it too loud.

They came to the table and sat, Escobar shaking off his coat. "You pick a s.h.i.t time to do business. Is Rossier here?"

"Not yet."

LeRoy stuck out his hand. "Mr. Escobar, my name is LeRoy Bennett. It's a pleasure, sir, yes it is."

Escobar looked at me without acknowledging the hand or the person. "Who is this?"

"Rossier's stooge."

LeRoy said, "Hey, what the ruck?"

Escobar hit LeRoy with the back of his right hand so hard that LeRoy almost went out of the chair. It was exactly the same move he'd used on his wife. Two of the guys at the bar looked over and the woman gave a little gasp. Escobar grabbed LeRoy by the face and dug a thumb under his jaw. "You see me sitting here?"

LeRoy tried to get away from the thumb, but couldn't. "Hey, yeah. Whatchu doin', bro?"

"If I'm here, where's your G.o.dd.a.m.ned boss? You think I got time to waste?"

Even as he said it more lights swept the open door and you could hear the crunch, even over the jukebox and the rain. LeRoy stood away from the thumb, saying, "That's gotta be Milt right now," just as Milt Rossier walked in.

The woman behind the bar said, "Hey, Milt," but Milt didn't acknowledge her. He saw us at the little table and came over, offering his hand to Frank Escobar. "Frank, I'm Milt Rossier. Lemme apologize if I've kept you, but this rain is a b.i.t.c.h."

Escobar said, "Hey, forget about it. You shoulda seen the drive up from Metairie." He held Milt Rossier's hand longer than he needed to hold it. "I'm looking forward to a fruitful partnership, Milt, but let's get first things first. Where's Prima?"

"Oh, he'll be at the pumping station. You bet." Escobar glanced at me, then put it back on Milt Rossier. He still had the old man's hand. "I wanna make money with you, Milt, but you have to understand it's personal here, me and Prima. We ain't goin' forward with this until I get this b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Milt was nodding and trying to get his hand away. Escobar's eyes were dark splinters and Milt Rossier seemed afraid of him. "Frank," he said, "I'm gonna bring you right to him." He finally got the hand away. "You ready to do some business or you wanna little snoot before we go? This is my place. It's on the house." Like a guy worth millions wouldn't pa.s.s up the chance at a free belt.

Escobar shook his head and stood. He snapped his fingers, and the pocked guy stood with him. "Prima." Talk about one track. You could see his hands flexing, already pulling the trigger. His coat flared when he stood, and you could see a glint in the darkness. Milt smiled. "Well, h.e.l.l, let's go do it." We stepped out into the rain. Milt wanted everybody to go together in LeRoy's Polara, but there were five of us and it would be crowded, so Milt asked if Escobar would mind following us in his own car. Escobar said that that would be fine, and he and his goon hurried to their BMW, anxious to get out of the rain. Lightning crackled again, filling the parking lot with light. Escobar and his thug opened the Beamer's doors, the BMWs interior lights came on, and then two men stepped out from behind the Bayou Lounge. b.a.l.l.s of lightning flashed from their hands, and there was the sharp snapping of autoloading pistols m.u.f.fled by the rain, and Escobar and his goon fell against their car. The pistols were still snapping when LeRoy Bennett slammed the side of my head with something hard and cold. I went down into the mud and Bennett was over me, hitting me twice more and saying, "Who's a stooge now? Who's a f.u.c.kin' stooge?" and then Rossier pushed him away, saying, "Stop that, G.o.ddammit, we ain't got time for that! Get'm up."

Ren+! LaBorde stepped out of nowhere and pulled me to my feet. Bennett, grinning like his face was split, took my gun and hit me again.

The rain fell harder and no one stirred from the Bayou Lounge.

The two men finished their killing and came to us. One of the men was Donaldo Prima. The other was Evangeline Parish Deputy Sheriff Tommy Willets. Willets looked scared. Donaldo Prima said, "We got that fawkuh good!" I knew then that the good guys were alone at the pumping station. All of the bad guys were here.

I said, "Jesus Christ, Willets."

Willets. .h.i.t me on the forehead with the b.u.t.t of his pistol and knocked me into the side of Bennett's Polara. Then Milt said, "Hurry up, G.o.ddammit, and get'm in the car. We got a lot of people to kill."

Chapter 37.

W illets put his cuffs on me, then got Ren+! to help put me in the backseat of Bennett's Polara. Willets breathed hard as he did it, a torrent of rain running off the brim of his campaign hat, his Evangeline Parish sheriffs poncho molten in the lightning flashes. The lounge's wooden front door was closed, and I thought maybe Bennett had closed it as we'd left. Maybe. Across the lot, Bennett and a short guy with a heavy moustache loaded the bodies into Escobar's trunk, the short guy Donaldo Prima's thug. Donaldo Prima came over to the Polara and waved his gun at me. "This fawkuh set me up?" His eyes were blood simple from the kill.

Rossier said, "We might need the sonofab.i.t.c.h! Put it away!"

Prima pushed past Milt, screaming, "I gonna kill his a.s.s!" When Prima touched Milt, Rent's snake-fast hands shot out, grabbing and lifting and twisting the gun away. Prima hissed something in Spanish, then said, "Make him let go!"

Rossier made Rene" put him down, and then Prima and Rossier went to Escobar's car with Bennett and the moustache. Willets got into the backseat of the Polara with me, and Ren+! stood in the rain. Ren+! was wearing a raincoat, but it was unb.u.t.toned and looked as if someone had put it on for him. There was no hood, and the rain beat at his head and plastered his hair. Willets sat with his service revolver in his hand, still with the breathing, staring wide-eyed through the rear window at the group of men in the rain as if I weren't there. The gla.s.s around us began to fog. I said, "How much does it cost for a guy like you to sell out, Willets?"

"Shut up."

"I know he paid you enough to keep tabs on the sheriff, but is it enough to buy a night's sleep?"

"Shut up."

"Willets, if you sold your balk by the pound, you didn't get enough to feed a parking meter."

Willets looked over at me, blinked twice, then backhanded me with his revolver. The barrel and the cylinder caught me above the left eye, snapping my head back and opening the skin. There was an instant of blackness, then a field of gold sparkles, and then only sharp pain above the eye. I could feel blood run down across the outside corner of my eye. I grinned. "You didn't think it'd come to this when you sold them, did you? Guys like you never think that far ahead. Only now it's here and happening fast and you're scared s.h.i.tless. You're in the deep water, Willets, and you oughta be scared."

He wet his lips and looked again at the men in the rain. Scared, all right. "I'm not the guy who has to worry about it."

"Were you in on Rebenack?"

He still didn't look at me.

"That's perfect, Willets. Perfect."

LeRoy and Milt came back to the Polara. Prima went behind the lounge, alone, and LaBorde and the mustache climbed into Escobar's Beamer. The Beamer pulled away, and Willets's highway car came from behind the lounge. We pulled out, and the highway car fell in behind us. No one had stirred in the Bayou Lounge, and no one had come out to look. All of it had been covered by the rain and the thunder.

I said, "I can't believe you didn't go for it, Milt. Two thousand a head is a lot of money."

Rossier turned in the front pa.s.senger seat and grinned at me. His old man's face looked cracked and splintered, and he was holding Bennett's government .45. He said, "G.o.dd.a.m.ned right it is. You almost had me, you sonofab.i.t.c.h. I woulda swallowed the whole d.a.m.n hook if Willets here hadn't tipped me."

"Willets isn't the only cop who knows. A lot of people are in it, and Jo-el Boudreaux is going to take you down. The blackmail won't work anymore."

Willets licked his lips. "He's right, Milt. We oughta not play it this way."

Milt said, "Who else knows?"

Willets was licking his lips again. "The guys out at the station, Jo-el's wife and that lawyer from Baton Rouge , and Merhlie Comeaux. Comeaux went home, and the two women are at the Boudreauxs'."

Milt Rossier nodded and grinned still wider. "We'll just round'm up and kill'm and that's that." He said it the way you'd tell someone you wanted pickles on your potted meat sandwich.

I said, "You're out of your mind."

Willets said, "Jesus Christ, that's crazy."

Milt nodded. "We'll see."

Willets said, "You can't just kill all these people."

Milt nodded and asked Bennett if he knew how to get there, and Bennett said yes. Willets was licking his lips every few seconds, now. He said, "Hey, Milt, you don't mean that, do you? You can't just murder these people?"

Milt c.o.c.ked his head and looked at Willets as you might a slow child. "Son, simple plans are best. What else can I do?"

Willets squirmed in his seat, holding the service revolver limply in his lap. I wondered if I could move fast enough to snake it from him before Milt shot me. Willets said, "But that's three officers. That's Jo-el's wife. How we gonna explain all that? Jesus Christ."

I said, "Hey, Willets, how do you think he's going to explain you being the only one left alive?"

Milt Rossier said, "Oh, that one's easy." Then he pointed LeRoy Bennett's .45 at Deputy Sheriff Thomas Willets and pulled the trigger. The sound was enormous, and the heat and muzzle blast flashed across my face, and Tommy Willets's head snapped back into the seat and then jerked forward, and a spray of red splattered on the vinyl and the door and the windows and me. When Willets's head came forward he slumped to the side and was still.

LeRoy said, "Man, dat was loud as a pork fart, yeah."

Milt reached back and took Willets's revolver and had Bennett pull over. Bennett put the body in the trunk and we went on. I said, "You really mean it. You're going to kill everybody, aren't you?"

Milt said, "Uh-hunh."

We drove to Jo-el Boudreaux's house and turned into the drive, Prima pulling the highway car in behind us. I said, "If you hurt them, Rossier, I swear to G.o.d I'll kill you."