The other man said, ‘In here. Get in. We’ll talk on the way.’
Rader said nothing. He just turned and stepped into the car and they drove off.
7
The fat guy with the bald head and the gun nodded at John Rader as he slid against the leather seat.
‘Get comfortable.’
‘Where are we going?’ Rader said.
The fat guy kept the gun trained on Rader. ‘You’ll find that out,’ he said.
They drove for a few blocks, into a side street, emerging in a thoroughfare of fast-food joints and bars and strip malls. Nobody spoke. The man who looked like he had nylon on his face drove within the speed limit, always stopping at yellow. At the third red light he stared at Rader in the rearview, and didn’t speak. Rader saw reconstructive work in his face; smooth layers, not a line, then ridges and troughs around the jaw. His eyes seemed to peer through a mask. Down the next block this guy said, ‘You know, fella, you’re in our town tonight, and you should know better than to play by your rules.’ His voice was east coast, no question. Rader would’ve put his age at fifty if he didn’t have so much work around his face. That made him wonder. The man on the rear seat thrust the gun at Rader’s arm, said, ‘Nothin’ to say?’
‘You must be thinking of somebody else.’
The driver nodded and smiled. ‘Oh, yeah. We get that all the time. All the time.’
The car smelled of smoke, no alcohol. No one was wearing seat belts. The third guy, in front of Rader, didn’t talk, didn’t look round. Rader couldn’t see more than the back of his head.
‘So what’s it take,’ the driver said, ‘coming out here, snooping, whatever you’re doing? What’s it take, huh, balls or stupidity? I always wondered, when guys like you just gotta push it too far. What’s it really take?’
Rader said, ‘Where are we going? You didn’t tell me.’
‘Don’t be impatient. You’ll see.’ He grinned round at him. ‘Just sit there and wait.’
Rader was silent now. He saw the occasional overpass, then he saw houses leading out into darkness. Street signs were all local, and they didn’t head for the freeway.
‘Just one thing,’ the driver said, ‘how did you know?’
‘How did I know what?’
The driver smiled at the guy on his right, then back at the fat guy seated beside Rader. All of them laughed.
‘You know,’ the fat guy said, gripping the gun, ‘you coulda ruined this. And maybe you already did. I should fuckin’ kill you now.’
‘Yo, Mickey,’ the driver said, ‘cut it out.’ Then he glanced round again at John Rader. ‘So how did you know?’ he said again. ‘I’m serious.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rader said.
The fat guy, Mickey, smacked his chin, glaring at him as the car took a sharp bend at speed.
Rader fell back against the corner and said nothing.
The driver said, ‘No, hey, Mickey, leave it. Leave it to me, huh? Just cool it and sit nice. We’re almost there.’
‘You’re getting me riled up now,’ Mickey said to the driver. He trained the gun at Rader’s head.
‘I do that sometimes,’ the driver said. ‘It’s true. But, hey, nobody died yet, and like I said, we’re almost there.’
No one said anything for a moment. The driver rolled up at a red light, behind a truck. He turned round. ‘Answer me,’ he said to Rader. ‘How’d you know?’
This time Rader ignored it. He was thinking about all that careful driving. If it was their town, they didn’t own the cops, or belong to a syndicate that did. Then he remembered the blond in the piano bar.
The driver said, ‘Might help your chances if you’d cooperate a little.’
‘I don’t know anything about you,’ Rader said. ‘I never saw you before. I’m in town, and that’s my business. I don’t want into yours, like you might think. Can you understand that?’
‘Well, I hear it and I understand it, but I sure don’t believe it.’
The fat man on Rader’s left smacked him again on the face with the back of his hand. This time Rader slid back, grabbing at the gun. It fell loose, into darkness, and he clubbed the fat man’s jaw with his fist. Rader heard it crack, and smashed it harder, the fat man roaring.
Horns sounded. The lights had changed. The driver said, ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ,’ and drove off, tires screeching. He kept looking back. The other man, who was bearded and wore a football hat, was leaning towards Rader. Mickey was still roaring. Rader had his jacket in both hands, and dragged him down towards the seat, bundling him forwards under the jacket, chopping his kidneys with an elbow. Just below, his fingertips found the gun. He reached, as the muzzle of a .45 tapped his forehead.
‘Sit back up straight,’ the bearded man said. ‘Hands in the air.’
Rader froze, and then he made the slow move away from the gun. The fat man wasn’t moving at all. Rader didn’t even hear him breathe.
‘I think your friend needs help,’ he said.
‘Fuck you.’
‘You don’t wanna help him?’
The driver signaled, and then pulled onto a secondary road that wound past trees and a few houses. He drove down to where the houses ended near a field. The streetlamps ended there too. He rode into darkness, stopping at more trees, and cut the engine at the end of the road. The bearded man kept the gun on Rader.
‘He better be okay,’ he said.
The driver got out, hurried around the car, and opened up. The fat man moaned.
‘You okay, Mickey?’
A muffled bleat.
‘Mickey?’ Then the driver looked at Rader. ‘Get out of the car and start walking.’
Rader opened up. The houses were so far away in the shadows he couldn’t see them.
‘That way,’ the driver said, pointing to the side of the trees. ‘Get moving.’
Rader took the first step, and felt the man just behind him.
‘You still don’t listen,’ Rader said. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’
They walked over thick dry grass. Every few steps a stone caught on Rader’s foot. The land rising after ten paces, gently at first. The man said nothing.
‘You got the wrong guy.’
‘No, I got the right guy. You’re into something that’s none of your goddamn business.’
Rader kept walking. Now the land was uneven, but the trend was down. Looking ahead, he couldn’t see much more than his hands. A glance round. When he was sure that they were hidden from the men back at the car, he said, ‘Let me explain.’
‘Too late.’
He could hear the man panting a little. The guy wouldn’t want to walk any farther than he had to. That didn’t give Rader much more time.
‘You’ll want to hear this,’ he said.
‘Too late.’
‘Why should it be? You’re in charge.’
‘You actually think when you report back to him—’
Rader could hear the man panting again. He said, ‘Let me stop, cool down a moment. I want to discuss this with you, just the two of us here. You’re in charge, after all.’