Fuck apologies, McDonald said. Youre going down, you prick.
Yeah? Whats that supposed to mean? Bone asked. You walking around with a little handgun, Wilson? Bones voice was quiet, and he looked almost as if he might be joking. But McDonald could see his black eyes, and knew that he wasnt.
Kiss my ass, McDonald said; and Bone, in his turn, took a mental step back. This was not the hail-fellow he knew. Baki caught the hem of Bones jacket and pulled. No, she muttered, an inch from his ear. McDonald nodded at the two of them, then turned on his heel.
Fat fuckin…
Some other time, she said. Did it work out in there?
I dont know.
WHAT HAPPENED? AUDREY DEMANDED, AS SOON AS the door shut behind her husband.
I damned near punched Bone out in the hallway, the prick, McDonald said. Christ, I could use a drink.
Punched him? Audrey was confused, and her voiceturned shrill. Wilson, what are you thinking about? Punched him?
Ah, shut up, McDonald rapped. He peeled off his coat and tie. Board wants us to wait around until theyre done.
Are they going to pick someone? Were not ready. We were going to work on Bose this weekend.
The ODell thing spooked them, McDonald said. I think half of them are getting ready to leave town. Hide out until its over with.
But… Audrey was flabbergasted. They said next week…
I dont know. Wilson shrugged. He turned to look out his window, down at the street. Bone turned up looking like a motorcycle bum. He sure as hell didnt look like a CEO, so thats something.
Okay, she said. She folded her skirt beneath her as she sat down on a plush chair. So we wait.
THE WAIT WAS AN HOUR LONG, AND SEEMED TO TAKE most of the day. A few people came and went; McDonald stared at a computer screen while Audrey readVogue. Then Jack OGrady came down, smiled at Audrey, and said, Wilson, could you step back into The Room for a minute?
Audrey patted him on the back and Wilson followed OGrady out the door.
Going to the Gophers game? OGrady asked.
Always do, McDonald said brightly. Good year, bad year, I dont care…
But he trailed off when he walked through the door. Bone was already sitting at the long conference table, but this time he was wearing a dark bankers suit with a thin chalk stripe. And hed shaved.
Wilson, sit down, said Brandt, and McDonalds stomach turned. He sat down. Wilson, weve decided we need to get a new leader in place immediately; somebody who can handle the bank and give us a single voice to speakwith. Weve elected you and Jim Bone to the board of directors. Ill be taking over as the board chairman, and if youll accept the job, youll be vice chairman, as well as maintaining the presidency of the mortgage arm. Weve asked Jim to take over as president and chief executive officer. And weve directed him to continue with the merger plans.
Brandt looked at Bone, then back to McDonald. So thats it. Welcome to the board.
I, uh… McDonald shook his head as if hed been struck. Vice chairman: he was dead meat. I, uh, thank you.
BAKI MET HIM IN THE HALL, EYES WIDE, ALMOST VIBRATING with caffeine and anxiety, Bone thought, and demanded, Well?
He grinned. I got it. Brandt is chairman, for now, and McDonald is vice chairman. For now.
She smiled back and six years worth of frost melted for a moment: Im very pleased for you, Mr. Bone.
Jim.
Not yet, she said; she refrosted.
And we have to talk about that favor.
Tomorrow, she said. Ive got some more thinking to do, and weve got some work. I should call Spacek, and tell him that youre now the man to deal with on the merger.
Thats the first thing, he said. Second thing is, weve got to start talking about how to screw the merger.
Thats not entirely consistent with your previous position, she said, with absolute equanimity.
I didnt used to be the CEO, he said. So lets go. Were gonna need coffee and cookies. Weve got some minor receiving to do.
Down in your office, she said. I ordered everything well need this morning.
SIXTEEN
ST. PAUL POLICE HEADQUARTERS RESEMBLES A Depression-era WPA post office, but with new windows. Lucas dumped his Porsche in a reserved-parking space at the front of the building and went inside to a glass security window, where a woman at the desk didnt recognize him, didnt care about his Minneapolis ID, wasnt sure that Lieutenant Mayberry had time to see him, and told him to take a seat in the reception area next to a kid with green hair.
Lucas sat down, said, Nice hair, crossed his legs, and stared at the opposite wall. The kid, whose brain was moving in slow motion, struggled with the sentiment for twenty seconds before he said, Thanks, dude, with sincerity.
Lucas waited another twenty seconds, then asked, Whatre you here for?
Another twenty seconds and the kid said, Fuckin smokin weed.
Were you doing it? Lucas asked.
Fuckin yeah.
THE CONVERSATION WITHERED AFTER THAT; THEN Mayberry pushed through the security door and said, Hey, Lucas, whatre you doing out here? Mayberry had a head the size and shape of a gallon milk jug, right down to thehandle, which was a tiny blond ponytail tied into his hair at the back. He pushed through the security door and said, Come on back… How ya been, I havent seen you since that goat-fuck over at Ronnie Whites place.
Ah, ups and downs, Lucas said. You heard about Weather?
You mean the bomb? Yeah, in the paperand somebody said you guys busted up.
I dont know, were kind of working on things.
Shes a good one, Mayberry said. He guided Lucas to an elevator, up a couple of floors and into a meeting room with a dozen chairs with red plastic seats, a blackboard, a wide-screen color television, and a
VCR.
Mayberry shoved the tape into the VCR and punched a few buttons, bringing the television up. I looked at the tape last night… man, its been a long time. I could hardly remember who was who. Anyway, Arris shows up at about 224 on the dial…
He was running through the tape; at the index number 210 he stopped the tape, then restarted it at real-time speed. They were both standing to look at the picture.
Okay, Mayberry said, tapping the screen. Here we have a parade of people going by… lots of women, going down to the meat rack. Half a dozen guys.
The tape was black-and-white, focused on a thin man with a mustache selling soda, cigarettes, bread, and gasoline over a small counter in a convenience store. In the background, through a window and past two pair of gas pumps, people occasionally walked by the store, most of them on the far side of the street.
Okay, Mayberry said. Here we come up to Arris… This woman goes by and there he is. He jabbed at the screen. Arris was wearing a light-colored shirt and what might have been tan slacks.
Pretty blurry, Lucas said, his eyes less than a yard from the screen. Cant see his face.
Not very well, Mayberry agreed. He stopped the tape, rewound it a few turns, and Arris rolled through the pictureagain, this time in slow motion. We got the ID by having a bunch of his friends look at it, and they picked him out by, you know, general appearance, the flappy way he walked. And the dress was right. You can see his sleeves were rolled up, and thats right.
Nobody looks like McDonald, Lucas said, watching the people parade past the store.
You sure hes your guy? Mayberry asked.
Hes the guy we got a hard tip on, Lucas said.
Most of these people were going down to the rack, Mayberry said. But Arris was just out for a walk, and he went on beyond it. So he was just about alone when he was shot, a block and a half further on. So if youre looking for the killer… hes quite a bit further down.
Jelly told me he didnt think it was random.
Hes usually right, Mayberry said.
If it wasnt random, the shooterd almost have to be following him, Lucas said. He couldnt expect just to walk down the street and run into Arris at a convenient place to shoot. Especially not if Arris would recognize him. Hed want to come up behind him.