«Get off my case, Counselor! I don’t want to talk about your brain surgery or my frailties, I want to talk about Hawkins and his appeal to the Supreme Court and how we can squash it!»
«Actually, in legal terms, it’s not an appeal—no decision was made in a court of law that requires overturning, like in appellate procedures—»
«Don’t you dare quote law to me, pee-pants!»
«It was coffee, and I changed my trousers and you agreed it was coffee.»
«It was also an appeal in the broader legal sense, an appeal to right a wrong,» said Redwing, a touch defensively.
«My trousers?»
«No, you idiot, the lousy brief!»
«Then you agree with Mac. If everything I’ve told you stands up to scrutiny, your scrutiny, a crime was committed against your people. Don’t you think it should be ‘righted’?»
«Whose side are you on?» protested the Native American beauty.
«At the moment, I’m a devil’s advocate suppressing my natural inclinations. I want to know what you think.»
«Don’t you understand? What I think doesn’t matter! I care for my people and I don’t want them hurt… Come on, Devereaux, be realistic. A small Indian tribe against the majestic national power of SAC—how long would we survive? Even the specter of such a possibility, whether it had a chance or not, could result in new laws passed, land condemned by eminent domain, our people scattered—all resulting in economic and racial genocide, and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve experienced it.»
«Isn’t that worth fighting against?» asked Sam, his expression passive. «Anywhere?»
«Theoretically, of course, and in the vast majority of instances, actively. But not here. Our people are not unhappy. They have the land they live on, with decent government subsidies—which I’m parlaying into investments with damn good returns—and to suddenly plunge them into a morass of legal violence—and that’s what it would be, violence—I simply can’t permit it.»
«Mac won’t go along with you. He’s an original, and violence of any kind isn’t a threat, it’s a come-on… Also, Miss Redwing, and now I’ve got to speak for my admittedly terrified self, and I suspect for the greatest attorney I’ve ever known, namely my employer, one Aaron Pinkus, I don’t think we can go along with you, either. You see, when you come right down to it, we’re officers of the court, and a great crime was committed, and to turn our faces away wouldn’t be terribly appropriate. Not if we really believe what we think we are. That’s what Aaron meant when he said to me that we both had to make the individual decisions of our lives. Do we turn away or do we uphold a truth that may destroy us professionally, but knowing in our souls that we’re right?»
Jennifer Redwing, her eyes wide and staring at Sam, swallowed several times, then spoke haltingly. «Will you marry me, Mr. Devereaux?… No! I didn’t mean that! It’s like what you said to me in the elevator! A slip, a mental slip!»
«Hey, it’s okay, Miss … Miss—do you have a first name? After all, I said it first—the dumb slip, I mean.»
«People call me Red.»
«Not for your hair—Christ, it’s the most gorgeous, lustrous ebony I’ve ever seen in my life.»
«It’s the genes,» said Redwing, getting slowly out of the chair. «My people ate a great deal of red buffalo meat. I’m told it gives a sheen genetically.»
«I don’t give a wigwam damn what does it,» said Devereaux, also rising slowly and walking around the desk. «You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life.»
«Looks are only surface, Sam—may I call you Sam?»
«It’s a good substitute for ‘idiot,’» said Devereaux, his arms encircling her. «You are glorious!»
«Please, Sam, that’s so irrelevant. If I’m attracted to you—and I obviously am—it’s not because of your handsome face and your tall lean body—which can’t be discounted—but it’s because of your basic integrity and great love of the law.»
«Oh, yeah, I got it! I really got that!»
«Don’t be frivolous, Sam. Please, don’t be.»
«Never, never!» And naturally the goddamned telephone rang. Devereaux’s hand crashed down on the desk, only glancing off the base of the instrument but causing the receiver to flip over onto the blotter; he picked it up angrily. «This is a recording,» said Sam in a loud, flat monotone. «You’ve reached the Lugosi Funeral Home, but there’s no one here who can get up and answer the phone—»
«Cut it out, boy,» interrupted the harsh, growling voice of MacKenzie Hawkins, «just you listen up sharp. We’re under attack and you’re a target, so I want you to take rapid cover.»
«Listen, fossil brain, I left you barely two hours ago and my instructions were that I was not to be disturbed until post meridiem! For your edification, that’s after twelve noon—»
«No, Sam, you listen to me,» the Hawk broke in, his very calm sending the message of genuine concern. «Get out of your house. Now.»
«Why the hell should I?»
«Because you don’t have an unlisted number and that means your address is in the telephone book.»
«So are several million others—»
«But only two of them ever heard of the Wopotamis.»
«What?»
«I’ll say this only once, son, because neither of us can waste time. I don’t know how it happened—it isn’t Hymie the Hurricane’s modus operandi. Oh, hell, he’ll send a goon or two but not an enforcer—and that’s exactly what we got on our rear flank, a hit man.»
«It’s a little early for you to get juiced, isn’t it, Mac?»
«Hear this, Lieutenant,» said Hawkins, his voice now both calm and cold. «My adjutant, Desi-One, who, unbeknownst to me, was temporarily employed in the New York area—specifically the Brooklyn barrio—spotted a man in the hotel lobby he’d seen before from a distance during his previous temporary employment. A very bad man, Lieutenant, and because the corporal is conscientious and dressed properly, he stood beside this hombre vicioso, as he called him, at the front desk and heard him distinctly ask about two gentlemen. The names were Pinkus and Devereaux.»
«Holy…!»
«Precisely, boy. This bad individual made a phone call, then returned to the desk, where he got himself a room two floors below us… I don’t like that phone call, Sam.»
«Neither do I.»
«I just spoke to Commander Pinkus, and we agree. Take your mother and that wacko maid he said was a relative and get out of there. We can’t allow hostages.»
«Hostages?» cried Devereaux, glancing at the glorious Red Redwing, who watched him, her expression one of complete bewilderment. «My God, you’re right.»
«I’m rarely wrong under these conditions, son. Commander Pinkus orders you to head for that crummy joint where the two of us met in the parking lot, and he’ll send the gunny sergeant for you as soon as he can locate him… Seems the missus took over the limo for shopping and isn’t talking to the commander, except to yell about some dirty curtains and an odor in the backseat that smells like a combination of fish and Danish pastry.»
«We’re on our way, but I’ll have to use Mother’s Jaguar. Stosh hasn’t returned my car, so have Aaron tell Paddy to look for the yellow Jag… What about you, Mac—not that I frankly give a damn—but that bad person is only two floors below?»