Bottoms got into Jesse’s truck and slammed the door. He pointed at the dashboard and mouthed, “Is it bugged?”
“No,” Jesse replied. “I’ve been over it.”
“Well,” Bottoms said, “I guess I gave you a jolt, huh? I mean, I think I scared the shit out of you.”
Jesse glanced across at the big man. “That’s a fair statement, I guess.”
“I wanted to warn you earlier, but you were out of town until last night, I hear.”
Jesse nearly drove off the road. “You knew I was here?”
Bottoms laughed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“Charley, what the fuck is going on?”
“Well, a couple of days after Barker sprung you, he sprung me. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not so unhappy you’d fly the coop, or so happy you’d change sides.”
“I should have known Barker would have a backup in place. It’s like him to be that cautious.”
“Backup is not far wrong. The deal was, I’d come up to Idaho, where a couple of old acquaintances had established the Nation up north, and get in good with them. Then, if they popped you, I’d be in place to step in. And, of course, I would burn the whole bunch in return for a free pardon.”
“Let me get this straight,” Jesse said. “You were willing to turn in your biker buddies to save your own ass?”
“Damn straight,” Bottoms said. “I never met anybody on a bike, or on foot, come to that, whose ass was as valuable to me as my own. I never even liked most of ’em. Fuck ’em, is what I say, if it gets me a fresh start.”
“You been dealing with Kip Fuller?”
“Right.”
“I told the son of a bitch not to send anybody else in here. Is he trying to get me burned?”
“I doubt it. I think Barker insisted.”
Suddenly, Jesse was delighted to see Charley Bottoms. “Well, I’ll tell you, Charley, you aren’t going to believe what you’re about to see, but I want you to remember every fucking detail of it and report everything to Kip and Barker. They wouldn’t take my word for it.”
“Sure thing, pal. You know, I always wondered what would have happened if you and me had gone toe to toe in the yard. Didn’t you?”
“Never crossed my mind.”
“Well, you got out just in time, buddy; I’d have smeared you across the pavement real good.”
“You know, Charley, it might have been interesting. Up until the time we met in solitary, I had just been trying to stay alive. But I think that after our chat, I would have started killing people, and you would have been first in line.”
Bottoms grinned. “I like you, Jesse; I always did. You always handled yourself real good in the yard; took out some guys I’d have thought would have stomped you into the ground. I’d have hated to kill you, but I’d have done it the minute you set foot out of that cell. I’m glad our present circumstances don’t require me to do that.”
“That’s sweet of you, Charley,” Jesse replied.
“I never saw anybody I couldn’t take in about a minute,” Bottoms mused, “except maybe Coldwater.”
“Coldwater scares you, does he?”
“You heard the stories about him in Nam?”
“Nope.”
“Shit, he’d go out in the jungle and hunt Slopes with nothing but a knife; they say he killed more people in silent combat than anybody in any service, including the marines and the CIA. And now he turns up in Idaho with all that hair, talking like a preacher. I bet if you looked at him cross-eyed he’d tear your throat out with his hands without even blinking.”
“You might keep that in mind, seeing that you’re doing what you’re doing here,” Jesse said. He drove through the gates, then pulled up on the mountain top and parked the truck.
Bottoms stepped down and looked around him. “What we got here, summer camp?”
“Stick around, Charley,” Jesse said. “Your eyes are about to be opened.”
They stood around a conference table in Coldwater’s underground office, following him as he took them through the blueprints of the installation. Jesse, as he had been doing for the past hour, snapped photographs with his Zippo lighter/camera whenever he had the opportunity. He took the opportunity to look closely around Coldwater’s quarters, too, and he saw something he’d seen before: a bookcase that held spines only, and, unlike the one that hid the safe back at Coldwater’s house, the false front was narrower and went nearly all the way to the ceiling.
“Jack Gene,” somebody interrupted, “I don’t see why you’ve stored gasoline instead of diesel in your underground tanks. Twenty-five thousand gallons of gas could make this place awful hot.”
“That’s an easy one,” Jack Gene replied. “First of all, the gasoline is in super-hardened tanks, no closer than fifty feet to the surface; second, in the last ditch, gasoline can make a powerful weapon, even if only in Molotov cocktails. And we’ve got flamethrowers we can use, if we have to.”
“I see your point,” the man said.
“Well, that’s all, gentlemen,” Coldwater said, rolling up the plans. “Let’s go back to the house for some brunch. He handed the rolled-up blueprints to Jesse. “Hang on to those for me.” Then he led the way from his underground redoubt.
Back in the truck, Jesse dropped the blueprints behind the seat as he got in.
“Shit!” Bottoms breathed. “You ever seen anything like that?”
“No, and neither has anybody else. When are you talking to Kip again?”
“Soon as I get out of St. Clair.”
“Tell him what you saw, will you? In the greatest possible detail?”
“You better believe it,” Bottoms said.
Jesse drove back down the mountain toward Coldwater’s house, feeling optimistic again. Maybe Bottoms’s testimony would put some spine into Barker and get him moving. And Jesse now had one more opportunity to convince Washington.
Chapter 45
Jesse went back to the office and spent the morning with Herman Muller, going over the production schedule on the New York plywood order. At lunchtime the plant emptied, and Muller, as usual, went into town for a hot lunch.
Jesse got Coldwater’s blueprints from his truck and spread them out on his desk. He adjusted his gooseneck desk lamp for the best light and, one by one, photographed the pages with the Zippo camera. When he was done he went into Muller’s private bathroom, got his telephone from his lunchbox and called Kip.
“What’s up, buddy?” Kip asked
“Two things: first, Charley Bottoms showed up this morning and nearly caused me to clutch my chest and turn blue.”
“Sorry about that; if you’d called in I could have warned you.”
“Second, I’ve photographed a good chunk of Coldwater’s fortifications and all of the blueprints.”
“Holy shit! You really came through for me, Jesse!”
“You bet I did, buddy; now, how am I going to get the camera to you?”
“Got a pencil? I’ll give you an address, and you can Federal Express it. Here we go, send it to John Withers, Nashua Building Supply, 1010 Parkway, College Park, Maryland.” He added the zip code and phone number. “It’s a drop I’ve set up. Can you get the camera off today?”
Jesse glanced through his glass wall toward the reception desk and the out box. “Yes, they haven’t picked up yet today.”
“Great, I’ll look forward to your shots.”
“Charley is my backup on this, Kip. Now you have all the evidence you need, right?”