“Like hell it doesn’t. You and everyone else in this jerkwater town got all the lawyers too scared to represent Donny. Then, when we dig up an out-of-towner, you try to run him off.”
“We just don’t like outsiders.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t see you beating up on those Vietcong-loving lawyers down the street.” He nodded toward an office at the next corner.
“You don’t scare me,” Garth said. “I got friends. Lots of ’em.
“We know all about you,” Banner replied, hovering over Garth. “We know where you and your scrawny pals meet. We know how many of you there are. We know you’re all enemies of God and the Aryan race.”
“You’re crazy,” Garth scoffed. “Fuckin’ lunatic.”
“And we know that you’re out to make sure Donny doesn’t get a fair shake.”
“Bullshit. We just want to make sure hateful bastards like you don’t kill off everyone in town!”
Banner’s neck muscles tightened. His fingers curled into a fist.
“Major!” one of his friends barked.
“Yes, soldier?”
“In private, sir.” The man whispered, but not so low that Ben couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Sir, we’re attracting attention from the locals. The Grand Dragon specifically said—”
“I don’t need you to remind me of my orders, soldier.” Banner squared his shoulders and looked down at Garth. “You—will—leave,” he spat. “And you will leave Mr. Kincaid alone.”
“Oh, will I?”
Banner’s two soldiers closed on either side. “Yes,” he said. “You will.”
The two boys exchanged a glance. They were outnumbered and outmuscled. “We’ll leave,” Garth said finally. “But this is just a postponement. To be continued.” The two boys strode back to their pickup and drove away.
After they left, Banner helped Ben to his feet. “I’m sorry that had to happen.”
“Not your fault. Appreciate the assist. Lucky you happened by.”
“It wasn’t luck. We’ve been assigned to protect you.”
“Assigned?”
“By Grand Dragon Dunagan. He knew they’d try something like this. And if not them, someone else. Unfortunately, Mr. Kincaid, you made many enemies when you took Donny’s case.
So he was learning. “Well, anyway, thanks. See you later.”
“Oh, no,” Banner explained. “I don’t think you understand. We’re supposed to stick to you like glue. We’re your bodyguards.”
“My—” Ben tried not to react visibly. “Look, I’m grateful, but I need to conduct some interviews this morning. I don’t think anyone’s going to talk to me if I’m surrounded by three huge ASP men.”
“Oh, you might be surprised,” Banner said, pounding a fist into his palm. “We can be very persuasive.”
“That kind of persuasion I don’t need. Uh—because it could get my evidence tossed out by the judge,” he added quickly. “Look, why don’t you gentlemen relax in that bar across the street. The Bluebell. Stretch out, have a drink or two. If I need help, I’ll know where to find you.”
“Well …” Ben could almost see the gears turning in Banner’s brain. “I suppose that would be all right. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I’m sure. And hey, thanks again.”
Ben watched as his bodyguards crossed the street. Good God, he told himself. I voted for Clinton. I’m a member of the ACLU. And now I have bodyguards assigned by the Anglo-Saxon Patrol.
It was then that the full irony of his situation hit Ben like a thunderbolt. As a result of this case, his entire world had turned topsy-turvy. The people he found reprehensible were his friends. The people he sympathized with were his enemies. Correction: they were the opposition.
He was the enemy.
8.
BEN THOUGHT IT MIGHT be prudent to get off the streets for a while, just to make sure Garth and company had cooled off. Following the hint his ASP bodyguard had provided, he decided to pay a visit to the “Vietcong-loving lawyers down the street.” He sprinted to the corner and turned into their streetfront office.
The office was small and barely decorated at all—just a few desks and card tables. The walls displayed posters and the tables were topped with brochures. Boldface print demanded AN END TO HATE and STOP ORGANIZED EVIL. It looked more like a lobbyist’s office than a lawyer’s. Ben expected someone to shove a petition in his face and ask for a dollar.
“May I help you please?”
Ben saw a brunette head rise over one of the desks in the back. He approached; the woman met him halfway.
She was on the tall side—taller than Ben actually, as he noticed almost immediately. Her hair was cropped at the shoulders; her trim figure indicated that she didn’t spend her entire life behind a desk. And she was extremely attractive.
“I’m Ben Kincaid,” he said, extending his hand. “Is this the Hatewatch office?”
“Can there be any doubt?” She grinned, gesturing toward the propaganda on the walls and tables. Her sweet southern accent told Ben she was not an Arkansas native. “I’m Belinda Hamilton. I’m in charge here. I don’t do the decorating, however. My two assistants get overzealous at times.”
She shook his hand firmly. “You don’t look like a Silver Springs native.”
“I’m not,” Ben answered. “I live in Tulsa—I’m on vacation. I’m a lawyer, and when I heard about what was going on—”
“You decided to drop by and check us out. Great. I can use all the help I can get.”
She hadn’t understood at all, but Ben decided to leave it alone for the moment. “Are you assisting the prosecution with the Vick case?”
“I’m planning to conduct my own independent investigation. The prosecution has not requested our assistance. They seem to think they have the case under control.”
“Really,” Ben said, trying not to sound too interested. “They have strong evidence against this kid?”
“So I’ve been told. Vick’s hatred of the Vietnamese is a matter of public record. He’s been at that ASP paramilitary camp for months running combat maneuvers. He was seen the afternoon before the murder picking a fight with the murder victim. Just before he was thrown out of the bar, he shouted, ‘I’m gonna kill you, you perverted Vietcong bastard.’ Plus I’ve been told trace evidence found at the scene of the crime links him to the killing.”
“If the prosecutor has the case under control, why is Hatewatch here?”
“The murder trial didn’t bring us. We came because ASP is here. We try to provide support for victims of racially motivated crimes, and to file civil suits to prevent or punish the terrorist tactics ASP uses to intimidate the Vietnamese and their supporters.”
“Sounds like dangerous work. Aren’t you concerned they might come after you?”
“I’ve been threatened often enough.” She tried to make light of it, but Ben sensed she wasn’t quite as nonchalant as she sounded. “Once a few years ago they—well, never mind. So far no one’s hit the office with a bucket of napalm. I’m not going to let them scare me.”
Ben suspected they would scare him whether he let them or not. He realized he was talking to one seriously courageous woman. “How’d you get assigned to this trouble spot?”
“To tell you the truth … I assigned myself. See, I run Hatewatch, from our Montgomery headquarters. In fact, I founded the organization.”
“You—” Ben’s embarrassment was palpable. “I’m sorry. I—”
She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone makes the same mistake.”
“Well—” Ben floundered, trying to save himself. “You don’t seem old enough to be in charge of an organization like Hatewatch.”
“Or male enough, eh?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that—”