“Two words spray-painted over the emptied gun racks: ‘Holy War.’ ”
“ ‘Holy War,’ ” Banish said, nodding.
“Then late yesterday there was a full-fledged run on the Huddleston Dime bank. They had to lock the front door. Near riot.”
“Christ,” Banish said.
“It’s gone past any reasoning now. People are even talking about raids and invasions. Some, anyway — I’m sure others just see all this hysteria and want to make sure their money’s safe.”
Banish said, “All we have to do is hold them down below.”
“It’s exploding,” Blood said. “I understand it’s a race war now too, though I’m not quite sure how. They’ve taken Glenn Ables and they’ve fashioned him into a kind of hinge upon which all their beliefs turn. They’re preparing for a revolution.”
“That’s fine.” Banish nodded, wanting to push on.
“One more thing,” said Blood. He brought out the local paper and started to open it, then slipped it back under his arm and simply told Banish instead. “Today’s paper,” he said. “They got ahold of a courthouse copy of the letter mailed to Ables. He was right about that court date. It was a clerk’s mistake. The wrong date was on it.”
Banish looked at him a moment then. “You think he’s innocent?” he said sharply, suddenly trying to contain himself. “After all this. An illegal arms dealer. An explosives trafficker with white hate organizations. A racist. A murderer of federal agents, a shooter of police officers.”
Blood shook his head. “I think he’s guilty,” he said. “Of a lot of things. Just maybe not this.”
Banish brought his hand up near his head and squeezed a quivering fist. “Christ!” he said. He wanted to stand. “We should all just walk away, then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why do you come to me with this? Now you’re a crusader all of a sudden?”
Blood nodded. “That I am.”
“For the guilty?”
“For what’s right. For what’s lawful. I believe we talked about this yesterday. You pretty well took me out to the woodshed, matter of fact.”
Banish nodded and said, “Fine. Just fine. And you might as well bring a hat to a man with no head. Because I have no choice in the matter now. I was put on this mountain to do a job. And I will do it, I will accomplish what I came here to achieve, goddammit — and then they can all fight it out in court. I do not care. If it all comes to nothing — then fine. Let me read about it in the papers.”
Blood nodded. “All right,” he said.
“What word do you want me to use?” Banish continued. “ ‘Misguided’? ‘Unfortunate’? ‘It’s a damn unfortunate situation’? There. Now everybody’s even. Everybody’s got a raw deal, you, me, Ables — everybody. All right? That what you wanted to hear from me?”
“I understand the situation.”
“I cannot care. That is not my job here.”
Blood was nodding. “I am with you,” he said.
Banish saw that he was protesting too much. He curtailed it with a grand shrug of his arms and hands, and Blood nodded again. “Fine, then,” Banish said. Blood nodded and went out.
Banish sat still a moment, collecting himself. “Christ!” he said. He picked up the phone and got Kearney back. “Get me an outside line,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
A dial tone came on immediately. Banish knew the long-distance number by heart. He dialed carefully. The connection went through and he switched ears, re gripping the receiver. He rubbed his itchy face. He waited through six long, empty rings until it was evident that there would be no answer. Then Coyle came in through the door flap. “Ables is on,” she said.
Sound Truck
“Watson.” The voice sounded tired and strange.
Banish said, “Mr. Ables.”
“I don’t like that tank out there.”
Banish glanced at Fagin standing next to him. The tank was there mainly for intimidation. Fagin showed him a shrug.
“The tank,” Banish said into the handset.
“It’s too close. I know what that thing could do to my house if I leave.”
“I’ll have it moved back.”
Ables was speaking more deliberately now. “I haven’t slept much since this started,” he said.
“You didn’t sleep overnight?”
“I stayed up with my children. We prayed together. For a sign.”
Banish flashed on the sound man’s report of having monitored one or more of the girls crying sometime before dawn.
Ables said, “My children don’t want me to go outside. They’d rather have that tank bomb us all into oblivion than see me go.”
“I’m having the tank moved back, Mr. Ables.”
“I will only be arrested by a white man.”
Banish nodded. “All right,” he said. He could not appear too eager.
“The house will be put in my wife’s name. She and Shelley and my children will not be arrested. Cameras will be there when I come out. They will have lights on so I can see them. I will not be handcuffed on my property, and I will be allowed to salute my supporters.”
The subtle sounds of disapproval from the men crowded behind him reflected the disappointment and exhaustion Banish felt himself.
“Mr. Ables,” he said, “that is unacceptable.”
Silence for a while, then Ables’s voice again over the speakers. “Watson,” was all he said. He sounded tired and dispirited.
Banish said, “You heard on your radio that people were keeping a vigil down at the foot of the mountain. First of all, those numbers have been exaggerated by the press. Secondly, it’s been nine days now and there are simply very few people left.” In a hostage negotiation, lying was known as disinformation. “Still, I cannot allow you to do anything that might bring about a civilian uprising.”
Ables said, “I know there are people down there, Watson. I know it. Good people, loyal people. Christian people. You will lie to me when it serves your purpose. They are down there waiting and they expect something of me.”
Banish came back quickly. “What do you want from me, Mr. Ables? Would you rather I agree to everything you say, that there are hundreds of people down there, that you can salute them and wave to them and give speeches and do whatever you want when you come down — and then double-cross you once we have you in custody? I am bargaining with you in good faith here. As unreasonable as things might seem to you right now, I am bending over backward for you.”
It was a measured risk. Ables was silent for a long while.
“Mr. Ables,” Banish said.
He looked to the sound man, who reassured him that Ables was still on the line.
“Mr. Ables,” Banish said.
“My children hate you, Watson.”
Banish went cold. “Mr. Ables,” he said.
“They will spit on your grave.”
“Mr. Ables.”
“No salute, then — but no handcuffs either.”
Banish looked over at Fagin. Fagin showed him a light shrug. Banish turned back to the microphone and made his decision, then waited, then waited some more.
“All right, Mr. Ables,” he said. “I accept your terms. Do we have an agreement?”
“I am still a man here, you bloodsuckers. A free man, an innocent man.”
“Mr. Ables, do we have an agreement?”
“Bastards,” he said. “Cowards.”
“Mr. Ables—”
“Do you believe in Yahweh, Mr. Watson?”
Banish, suddenly alarmed, reasserted himself. “Mr. Ables, I have accepted your terms and will honor them. Do we have an agreement?”
“You could take my life.” Ables’s voice was lower now. “You bloodsucking heathens — you could take my land and trample vilely upon it. But you will never take my faith.”