«Sam, this is impossible!»
«What is?» said Devereaux, walking awkwardly out of the second bedroom dressed in a bulky checkered suit with puffed trousers, altogether adding the appearance of seventy pounds to his slender frame. What was even more bizarre was his head. His skull was covered by a knotted brown wig, the free-flowing ringlets falling below a hat best described as a porkpie, the favored headpiece of the raccoon-coated collegiates of the twenties. He pushed Redwing’s partially open door and stood in the frame. «Can I help?»
«Yahhh!»
«You’re screaming. Is that a yes or a no?»
«Who are you supposed to be?»
«According to the driver’s license and the voter’s registration card provided with the clothes, my name is Alby-Joe Scrubb, and I run a chicken-breeding farm somewhere… Who the hell are you?»
«An ex-chorus girl!» replied Jenny, trying once more to clamp the steel breastplate over her generous chest. «There! Never mind, I’ve got it!… Now for this stupid kelly-green peasant blouse that wouldn’t excite a sex-starved gorilla.»
«It excites me,» said Sam.
«You’re one step below a gorilla and more easily aroused.»
«Hey, come on, we’re on the same side. No kidding, who are you supposed to be?»
«Let’s say a loose woman whose bulging topside under this bulletproof corset will hopefully take the guards’ attention away from the admission procedures.»
«The Hawk thinks of everything.»
«Right down to the libido,» agreed Redwing, slipping the bright green blouse over her head and tugging it into shape above her yellow miniskirt. She bent partially forward, glancing at the swell of her breasts within the loose-hanging blouse. «That’s the best I can do,» she said with a sigh.
«Let’s work on it—»
«Down, Rover… Now comes the worst part. The ‘headgear,’ as a friend of mine on the Forty-niners calls it.»
«That’s what’s different,» observed Devereaux. «Your hair looks funny; it’s all pinned back or something.»
«In preparation for your Neanderthal’s pluperfect revenge.» Jenny reached for a large square box on the bed and pulled out a platinum blond wig that rested on a steel helmet. «That bulletproof skullcap is so heavy I’ll have a stiff neck for the rest of the year, if I see the year through.»
«Yeah, I’ve got one, too,» said Sam as Redwing placed the helmeted wig over her hair. «Shaking your head’s okay, but if you nod, you could break your nose.»
«Shaking my head doesn’t go with this image.»
«I see what you mean. If this is Mac’s pluperfect revenge, what’s perfect?»
«I should think it would be obvious. He’ll set me up with a vice squad ‘john’ and I’ll be arrested as a hooker.»
«Sam!» cried Aaron Pinkus from the living room. «I need help!»
«I’m in demand.» Devereaux rushed out of the bedroom, Jenny at his heels. What they saw was as improbable a sight as either could hope to see, with the possible exception of looking at themselves in a mirror. Gone was the slight but nevertheless distinguished figure of Boston’s foremost attorney. In his place, dressed in a long black frock coat and wearing a flat black hat below which hung two strands of braided black hair, was a Hasidic rabbi. «Are you soliciting confessions or don’t you people do that sort of thing?» said Sam.
«You’re not remotely amusing,» replied Aaron, taking several tentative steps forward. Growing unsteady, he grabbed the fringe of a table lamp, which naturally crashed to the floor. «My whole body is encased in iron!» he cried angrily.
«It’s for your own protection, Mr. Pinkus,» said Jennifer, dashing around Devereaux and holding the old man’s arms. «Cyrus made it clear, you have to protect yourself.»
«The protection will kill me, my child. On Omaha Beach I carried a forty-pound pack on my back that nearly caused me to drown in four feet of water, and I was much younger then. This metal underwear is much heavier and I’m much, much older.»
«The only really difficult time for you will be the steps outside the Court, and since we have to separate, I’ll have Johnny Calfnose find someone to help you.»
«Calfnose? I seem to recall that name; it’s not a name one easily forgets.»
«He’s Mac’s honcho at the tribe,» said Sam.
«Oh, yes, he called Sidney’s house, and Jennifer and our general had a shouting match, as I recall.»
«Johnny Calfnose and MacKenzie Hawkins make a perfect team. Slime and Sludge. Calfnose still owes me bail money, and Hawkins owes me my soul as well as my career… Regardless, Johnny will get someone to help you. He’d better, or I’ll have him indicted for skimming thousands from General Thunder Nuts’ bribe money to the Council.»
«He did that?» asked Devereaux.
«Actually, I have no idea, but it would be perfectly natural for him to try.»
There was a rapid knocking at the door. Sam walked over and opened it, again mildly startled by the huge elegance of Cyrus. «Come on in, Colonel, although frankly you look more like a darker version of Daddy Warbucks.»
«That’s the idea, Sam, and to broaden your horizons even further, I’d like you to meet two friends of mine, or I should say of ‘Judge Oldsmobile.’» Cyrus stepped inside and gestured for Desis One and Two to do the same. However, they were not the Desi Amazes anyone in the room had seen before. D-One, his false teeth in place, was dressed in a conservative gray suit and an oxford blue shirt that emphasized his white clerical collar. D-Two, a religious kin but of a different faith, wore the black suit and collar of a priest, along with a gold cross that fell over his rabat. «May I present Reverend Elmer Pristin, an Episcopalian minister, and his comrade-in-protest, Monsignor Hector Alizongo of some Catholic diocese in the Rocky Mountains.»
«Good heavens!» said Aaron, clanking down in the chair.
«My God!» added the platinum-haired hooker, who was Jenny.
«He hears chu,» said D-Two, blessing himself, then correcting his benediction and blessing all those in the room—backwards.
«Don’t be a blasfemo,» mumbled Desi the First.
«Chu loco. I include chu an’ chu are a dumb protestante!»
«It’s okay, fellas,» said Devereaux. «We get the message… Cyrus, what’s this all about?»
«First, let me ask if each of you found everything. There was a check list for your items.» Jennifer, Sam, and Aaron nodded, considerable doubt in each face. «Good,» continued the mercenary. «Is there any trouble with the camo-ex equipment?»
«What’s that?» asked Pinkus from the chair.
«Short for camouflage externals—our disguises. We want you to be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Any problems?»
«To be honest, Colonel,» answered Aaron, «perhaps you should lease a derrick to move me around.»
«It’s not a problem, Cyrus,» said Redwing. «I’ll get a member of the tribe to help Mr. Pinkus.»
«Sorry, Jenny, there can’t be any communication whatsoever with the Wopotamis. Also, it’s not necessary.»
«Now, wait a minute,» broke in Devereaux. «My revered boss can barely walk in that medieval flak suit!»