The look of puzzlement faded. His eyes closed again as he talked. "I don't know about it, of course. But I can see why it could have happened. There are strict rules about security. The friends who are helping us are ruthless about eliminating any link between the religious mission and the political mission. It is perfect cover. I knew we had access to that... particular method, but I didn't know it had been used. It was supposed to be undetectable. Odd. Odd. They help the same sort of groups... everywhere." He opened his eyes and said, "You came here because of her? Just because of her?"
"Just because of her."
"Strange. To undo so very much. So easily."
The next time I touched him, he didn't respond.
The Green Ripper
His sleep looked comfortable enough, in the circumstances.
"Just because of her," I told him again. But he was beyond all movement, all reply, all under- standing.
15 - I worked hard all the rest of that first day of the New Year. I found a bale of coarse blankets in the warehouse. I found some nylon rope and a sharp knife.
The idea, after I went down and made sure the gate was closed and locked, was to recover the farthest bodies first. Chuck and Barry. I took the van down to where I had left the road. It took me longer to find them than I had expected. All the snow was long gone. Spread the blanket. Roll body onto blanket. Tie twice around. Grab corner of blanket near the head and drag back to van. Lift in. Go get the other one. Lift in. Drive up sloppy road to ware- house. Unlock, lift bodies out, drag them inside one
The Green Ripper at a time. Drag them to place beyond narrow aisle where it widened out again. Side by side near far wall. Neat.
Next, Brother Titus, Brother Persival,and the faceless nameless one-armed third man. Very difflcult pulling them up the steep slope. Three in a row. Went and got van. Two into the back, one into the side door. Unlock warehouse, unload, drag them through, one at a time. Five in a row. Neat. But no arml Went back and looked. Looked everywhere. Finally realized that for some time as I was searching, I had been making a small strange whimpering sound. I put my hand over my mouth and stopped it.
Two out there in the flat. Ahman and Haris. Dragged them one at a time all the way. Easier than lifting, loading, unloading. Seven in a row. But one arm missing. Not as neat as I wanted it to be.
Nena next. Not neat at all. Could not stand the thought of poking about, looking for missing bits. Then Stella. Nine. Easy to drag. Alvor was difficult and bulky to drag. Messy getting Sammy onto the blanket, but okay after that. Eleven of them. Why not twelve? I stood there and counted them, pointing at each one, saying the name. Eleven!
I had missed somebody. Somebody was out there. I counted them over and over, and I was beginning to make that noise again. And then I remembered the twelfth. Nicky. Executed by me. Buried by his comrades.
Not much of the fading daylight came in. I sat on a crate purporting to contain electronic equipment. Eleven silent ones. I felt a strange affection for them. They were so docile. This was my own tiny little Jonestown. We had shared together the final climactic emotional experience. Did dark shadows move within the fading electrical charges of the emptied minds? Did the final instant record on continuous replay, over and over, each playing dimmer?
I got up and felt my way out and locked them in, safe for the night. They'd had a very bad day, but they were safe for the night. Luck had run against them. John Wayne had deserted them.
I found two big flashlights, camp lanterns. I did not want to fool with the generator. I didn't want to listen to it. I went down to the creek with soap and towels, aimed the lanterns, and bathed and scrubbed in the black slide of ice water. I dressed in fresh coveralls, went to a trailer where nobody lived and where nobody had died, and rolled up in three blankets rolled onto my clenched fist to ease the hollowness of my empty belly and slept twelve hours without dreaming, without waking, without, as far as I could tell, moving at ale
In the morning I was able to eat. Then I went collecting. I looked for books, notebooks, tape decks, tapes, letters, documents, money, identifica
The Green Ripper lion. Brother Persival had the team's petty cash in a lockbox in the bottom of his hanging locker. A1most thirty-srx thousand. It all fitted reasonably well into the double lining of my old duffel bag. I remembered the airplane and went back to the wreck and hunted until I found the flight log. It was damp with evaporating gasoline but legible. Dates, engine hours, destinations some in the clear, some in code. Passengers and freight carried. Clear and coded. Fuel consumption. Estimated payloads. Maybe somebody could decipher where it had been and thus find some of the rest of these little warrens of Brothers and Sisters waiting to be blooded. I found the flight log, but not the arm. I walked farther afield, looking for it. I studied the trees, looking up at the crotches and crevices. No arm. Not one. Anywhere.
There were very few documents. It was as if they had been ordered to keep noting personal. Everything I found fitted into one large suitcase from A1vor's cement house. It was black metal like those carried by immigrants in old movies.
I had washed out the van. It had not been in bad shape. The blankets had saved it. I put my duffel bag in the van. I put the suitcase in the van. In one of the travel trailers I had found a big shiny oldfashioned alarm clock. I took it into the warehouse. I did not go all the way through to where the bodies were. I tested the alarm. It was very loud. I had located one case of six rockets. I set the alarm for five hours in the future, which would make it six in the evening. I uncapped six rockets, aimed them into different parts of the storage piles, jammed them in firmly. I took off the little acoustic caps. Just turn the switches and tiptoe out. I looked and thought, then screwed the acoustic caps back on and put the rockets back in the case, walked out and threw the alarm clock as far as I could, relocked the warehouse, and le*.
I drove down to the gate, unlocked it, drove out, locked it behind me. The morning had been muggy. The afternoon was colder. I drove a black van with big gold crosses on the side. I tried to look pious and preoccupied. The second day of a brand-new year. I tried to hurry, but every time I looked at the speedometer, I was back down to thirty miles an hour. It seemed fast enough.
I found a big gas station near Ukiah. I got change from the office and placed the call to the memorized number.
It rang three times and a hushed voice, male, said, "Hello."
'~Was someone... was someone at this number trying to reach Travis McGee?"
"I can try to find out for you."
'If you find out they were, I can be reached at this number." I read it off the pay phone.
"If they were trying to reach you, they'll call back."
I had parked the van next to the phone booth. I
The Green Ripper sat where I could hear me ring. At four o'clock the man came out from the station. "Are you okay?"
"I'm waiting for a call."
"All this time?"
'Y'm waiting for a call."
He looked me over carefully. 'Lou sure you're all right?"