He could not have explained why he had felt the need for some rapport with this man, why he had felt the need for an exchange of wisecracks at this point. But he knew he was totally unprepared for what followed next.
Jason turned from the phone lazily, and looked at Luke steadily, no trace of a smile on his mouth. “I don’t think we need a cripple hanging around, Mr. Costigan,” he said, and continued to stare at him without smiling. Luke returned the stare, the smile frozen on his lips, his face gone suddenly pale. He opened the inside door and then the screen door and then limped out of the office with Willy following him. They walked in silence to the repair shop. Luke seemed to be favoring his good leg more than he ever had before.
Willy jabbed the Springfield into his back.
“Inside,” he said, and opened the door marked NO ADMITTANCE at the western end of the building. They walked past the power tools and through the opening in the plywood-wire-mesh wall into the paint shop. The first person Luke saw was Samantha sitting across the shop on the edge of an empty cradle. He almost went directly to her, but something warned him that secrets were valuable here, and that a hoarded treasure could conceivably be something to spend later in the day. Sam seemed to recognize his masquerade and made no gesture or movement toward him. She continued sitting on the cradle’s edge as Willy came into the room and again poked the rifle barrel into Luke’s back. Luke turned and said, “Sonny, don’t do that.”
“What?” Willy said.
“I said don’t do that.”
“You’re telling me what to do, Costigan?” Willy asked incredulously.
“Lay off, Willy,” a Negro standing near the cradled speedboat on the far end of the shop said. He was a big man with immense hands and a bullet-shaped head. There was a scar across his nose, and his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed capable of lifting the speedboat over his head and hurling it clear across the shop and into the Atlantic.
“You hear what he said to me, Harry?” Willy asked.
“Maybe he don’t like you poking that gun in his back when there ain’t no reason for it,” Harry answered.
The two men stood staring at each other for a moment, Willy seemingly searching for a rejoinder, and Harry waiting for him to reply so he could cut him down again. There was no love lost between them, Luke realized, and wondered immediately how he could use their animosity.
The door at the far end of the shop was opening again.
A small, skinny Negro, perhaps forty years of age, came into the paint shop, followed by a white man holding a rifle.
“Hey, what you got there, Mac?” Willy said.
“Oh, he just wandered into the diner,” Mac said, grinning. “Ain’t that right, Amos?”
“Hey, Amos,” Willy said, “where you got Andy hiding?”
Luke glanced first at Amos, saw the deep look of hatred that flared in his eyes, and then glanced quickly to where Harry stood.
Harry smiled. “Aren’t you gonna say hello to him, Mr. Costigan?” he asked.
“Say hello to who?”
“Mr. Costigan,” Harry said chidingly, “we been casing this town for a long time now. We know exactly who’s who, and who knows who, and even who’s sleeping with who, so don’t give us no snow job, huh? Say hello to Amos and then go on over there and sit with your girl.”
Luke hesitated, and then sighed. “Hello, Amos,” he said.
“Hello, Luke,” Amos replied, and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and looked around the room nervously.
Harry turned to Willy. “You supposed to stay here?” he asked.
“What?” Willy said.
“Did Jason tell you to stay here or what?”
“He told me to bring Costigan over.”
“And stay?”
“He didn’t say nothing about staying or anything.”
“Then why don’t you shove off? Clyde and me can take care of this detail.”
“Where you want me to go?” Willy asked.
“Didn’t you have a house assigned to you?”
“Sure,” Willy said, and made a short awkward gesture with his head. “The Stem house, up the beach.”
“Then why don’t you go there?” Harry suggested.
Willy wet his lips. “You think I ought to?” he asked. “Flack’s up there, you know.”
“Supposed to be two in each house, ain’t there?” Harry said.
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then go on up there. I mean, Jason didn’t tell you to stay here, did he?”
“No, he just told me to bring Costigan over, like I done.”
“Then go on. We got this wrapped up here.”
“Okay, whatever you say,” Willy said, and shrugged and walked to the door. At the door he stopped, turned toward Harry, and asked, “You sure now?”
“What’s the matter with you?” Harry asked suddenly.
“Nothing,” Willy said. “Nothing.” He went out.
“I’m gonna head back to the diner myself,” Mac said. “Johnny’s there all alone.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “Thanks.” He watched as Mac went out, and then he turned to the others and said, “Let’s get some kind of order in here. I guess you’ve all made a count by now and decided there’s only me and Clyde here to watch over you, which makes it odds of four to one against us.” Harry grinned. “These rifles sort of tilt the odds our way, though, and I want to tell you we’re both pretty good shots and have orders to kill anybody who tries to get out of here.” Harry paused to let this sink in. His eyes met with Amos’s across the room, and he suddenly said, “Something troubling you, mister?”
For a second only, Amos seemed not to realize he was being addressed. It was almost as though he was certain the color of his skin would provide immunity from someone who — like himself — was black. But Harry had indeed addressed him, and he looked up at him blankly now, his eyes wide, a dumbfounded expression on his face.
“You hear me?” Harry said.
“You talking to me?”
“I’m looking straight at you, ain’t I?”
“Nothing’s troubling me,” Amos said briefly.
“You looked like something fierce was biting on your behind,” Harry said, and laughed. Clyde burst into laughter at the same moment. Amos, watching them, saw a Negro like himself laughing at him. Worse, he was laughing with a white man.
“Yessir, orders to kill,” Harry said when his laughter had subsided. “Everybody got that?”
Nobody said anything.
“Mr. Costigan? You got that?”
Luke nodded.
“Reason I’m asking you, Mr. Costigan, is because just a minute ago you made believe you didn’t know our colored friend there” — and he indicated Amos with a sideward flick of his eyes — “which makes me think you might be hatching some plans inside that head of yours.” Harry smiled pleasantly. “Forget them, Mr. Costigan. Take the advice of somebody who knows. You got any notion of busting out of here, forget it now. Right, Clyde?”
Clyde nodded and laughed again, plainly tickled by just about everything Harry had to say. Harry, mindful of such an appreciative audience, seemed to deliver each word with one eye on Clyde and the other on Amos, as though challenging Amos to elicit the same respectful laughter from a white man. Amos, instead, eyed him dourly from the opposite side of the shop.
“Anyway, eight people is a little unweedly,” Harry said, “so I’m gonna separate you in groups of twos. How’s that? Nice and cozy, right? Clyde and me here, we’ll be able to keep a better eye on you that way, and avoid any trouble in case some of you get ideas. Right, Mr. Costigan?”
“Whatever you say,” Luke answered.
“Ahh, now, there’s a smart man,” Harry said. “Whatever I say, that’s right, Mr. Costigan. Whatever I say. Okay.” He put down his rifle and looked across the room thoughtfully. “Dr. Tannenbaum,” he said, “I’m gonna pair you up with Mr. Colmore here. Is that all right with you? You know Mr. Colmore, don’t you?”