The snake pointed her tongue at Frye, wiggled it, took it back.
A freight train roared through Frye’s brain. He felt the sweat rolling down his back and sides.
I’m not going to show it, he thought. I’m not going to give Burke one bit of satisfaction in this.
When he looked at Parsons, it pleased him that what he felt strongest now was not fear, though he felt that too, but rather a clear, uncomplicated rage. It felt good inside him, somehow familiar, somehow new.
“I’m glad to know that, Burke.”
“It’s a neurotoxic venom — stops your heart and just about every other moving part you got. Turns your nervous system to soup. Over in Asia, an elephant steps on a big cobra, gets nipped, and falls over dead a minute later. That’s power, Chuck. Over in the ‘Nam now, I’d use vipers on account of their poison works slower and burns a helluva lot more. Eats up your flesh, muscles, the works. Man, I got some interrogation results with my little bag of snakes. And the same putter I’d play nine holes with in the mornings, too!”
Charlotte’s head moved away, and Frye eased his hand under it for support. She reeled back and he saw the eyes coming at him, scales getting bigger, tongue out. On his shoulder, her head was light and cool and the scales slid against his neck like leather buttons.
“You couldn’t do that with a pit viper, Chuck, on account of they sense the heat and zap it. Charlotte here’s a more primitive model. She’s slower too. Fast movement, though, she don’t like one bit. That’ll set her off, and she’ll get mad as all get out and zap whatever she can hit.”
“Guess at this point, it would be me.”
Burke stepped forward with an opaque grin and tapped her head. He tapped it again.
The head rose, took on a certain fierce alert, and tracked Burke’s hand as it moved away. Frye could feel his chest hitting cotton.
“Anyway, Chuck, the main reason I want to see you is just to say I can help you on the job. Now for my askin’ price — I just want you to lay off snooping around my business at all hours of the goddamned night and basically stay the fuck out of my life. You forget about Rollie Dean. You got a problem with the way I make a living, that’s too bad. I don’t believe for one second you haven’t squawked to Bennett or that blond airhead I’m trying to bang. I can understand that. What I’m asking is you just lay off and leave me and my sister alone and let the law take care of the law. I don’t ask twice, Chuck. I got a good thing going and I ain’t about to let you mess it up. What the hell good would it do? You just go back to work instead of paying so much attention to other people’s business, and the world’ll keep spinning like it’s supposed to. Am I being clear on this here proposal?”
“Pretty damned.”
“Think I’m asking too much?”
“Your timing is odd.”
“How do you feel?”
“Tarzanesque.”
Parsons waved his hand before Charlotte again, then studied Frye. “That’s my best and final, Chuck. I think it’s a good offer, a fair trade. Frankly, though, I can’t figure you out. You’re an unknown quantity, and that makes me and Charlotte a bit nervous. You’re no idiot though, so I think you can see I’m being fair here.”
Burke stepped forward again and fanned his hand in front of Charlotte’s face. She reared, wavered, held still. Then she spread her hood — two phantasmagoric flaps rising from her neck, scales spreading against translucent skin, a milky white light showing through between the rows. Frye felt her weight shifting as she swayed. His arm was getting tired. A drop of sweat burned into his eye. Charlotte’s head pivoted as Burke moved to the side, then behind Frye. She swayed, seemed to focus on Frye’s mouth. She was two feet away. Her tail dug into his crotch.
“We got an understanding now, Chuck?”
“We do.”
“I knew you’d do business. You’re sensible after all. Rollie Dean you’re just gonna forget about, right?”
“That’s right.”
“No word to anybody?”
“Not one.”
“There are a number of points being made in this conversation, Chuck, and it’s important that you grasp them. The bottom line is, you mess with me, and you’re betting a dollar to make a dime. It just plain ain’t worth it.”
Burke reappeared in the corner of his vision. Frye sensed a flash of movement and felt the snake’s body tighten around his own. Parsons stood back, Charlotte’s head in his hand now. He was laughing. “Like winding up a garden hose, Chuck!”
Burke stepped back, hauling the snake with him. Frye could feel her tail dragging across his pants, then up his belly as Burke pulled her off.
A moment later he was stuffing the last of the light green body back into the cage, still holding her head in his right fist. “Charlotte don’t like going back in, so I gotta hold her like this. Actually, I don’t trust the bitch. Every inch a woman, isn’t she?”
“Not like any I know.”
“You haven’t been around enough.” Burke snapped the cage top shut, looked at Frye, and wiped a hand across Frye’s forehead. He looked at his fingertips. “Not bad, Chuck. Not any more than I’d have sweated. I hope you don’t interpret any of that as a threat. There’s a million ways to get things done in this world.”
Frye felt his pulse evening, the numb fear draining from his legs. But still, what he felt most was this new anger, non-negotiable, uncluttered. “You only need one, if it works.”
Parsons laughed, walking toward the stairs. “Amen to that, young man. You want to know something weird? That kind of shit does absolutely nothing to me. Nothing. To me, there’s nothing inside when it comes to violence, except it’s a tool. It’s like clipping your nails. That, basically, is where I stand.”
“I see.”
They walked up the stairs, Parsons first. The library door swung open automatically, its motor groaning. Frye easily imagined yanking Burke down the stairs, letting him fall, and strangling him at the bottom. He laughed to himself. That, basically, is where I stand.
“What you grinnin’ at, Chuck?”
“Thanks for the tour. Sensible household pets are hard to find.”
“You ought to be here at feeding time, Chuck. It’s just like hell, and you get to watch. Gonna stick around a while?”
“I’ve got a freedom rally to catch.”
“Oh, that thing. Hope someone shows.”
Chapter 27
Saigon plaza was swelling with Vietnamese when Frye arrived just before sunset. He couldn’t believe it. Banners and flags flapped in the breeze, booths lined the perimeter of the roped-off parking lot, streams of dark heads flowed in from the streets. Three patrol cars waited near the plaza entrance. Two more had come into the lot.
He joined the flow of bodies moving in. The entrance ticket cost five dollars and said FREE VIETNAM in English, with Vietnamese writing on the other side. A cop frisked him on his way through. Frye could smell food cooking — a spicy aroma that immediately made him hungry. Squeezing through a temporary archway that served as the official portal, he looked up to see a huge poster of Li’s face, her eyes focused, it seemed, on the setting sun.
Massive reproductions of Thach’s ruined face hung beside those of Li, with DEATH TO THACH emblazoned below in red.
A stage had been built near the center of the plaza, bathed in bright lights and festooned with Vietnamese and American flags. The podium was draped with a sign in both languages: DESTROY COMMUNISM, LIBERATE VIETNAM, FREE LI. Frye studied the backdrop — three versions of Li’s face, all taken from her album covers. He could see Nguyen Hy, sharply dressed in white linen, directing some activity behind the microphone. Beside the stage stood two men in dark suits, their arms crossed. More Feds, Frye guessed. Two others lingered on the far side, another munched distractedly beside a food booth. He spotted Wiggins talking to air NBC reporter. There were rows of chairs set up on the asphalt, but not even half enough, he guessed. Already the booths were surrounded by people buying food. In one booth a bingolike game progressed, with dozens of players studying little cards with numbers on them. The barker was a short man, his stubby arm turning a wire cage filled with numbered cubes, his voice a ceaseless syllabic river.