Judas Horse_ An FBI Special Agent Ana Grey Mystery - April Smith [95]
“Beautiful.”
“That’s the spirit of Bob Marley, right there.”
“Bob Marley? Are you a fan of reggae music?” I ask just to say something.
“Major fan. He had it right about Babylon nation.”
“What is Babylon nation? When Slammer was going on about it, I figured he was just stoned.”
“Babylon is the Vampire. The inability of the white race to live in the natural world without destroying it. Babylon System is America, the whore of nations, gorged on luxury and fornication—but remember, that’s before Armageddon.”
“Gotcha.”
“See these waterfalls? A gargantuan river of melted ice comes raging down from Canada, fifty miles an hour, a thousand feet deep, gouging through those cliffs.” Stone is in a kind of rapture. “You want to talk cataclysmic?”
“All because of the white man.”
He disregards my wit. “It’s coming.”
“What is?”
“The Big One.”
“Another cataclysm?”
“Of major proportion.”
“What is the Big One, Julius?”
“The end of arrogance and superiority.”
“That could mean the Yankees. Come on, give me something to work with.”
“Funny girl.”
“What’s going on, Julius? Are we—the people at the farm—are we involved in something a lot more violent than I think?”
He smiles slyly. “I wouldn’t want to freak you out.”
“I can guess.”
“What?”
“You’re going to blow something up with a blood bomb.”
Somehow, this flatters him. He settles back in the seat. “A long time ago, before I switched careers to filbert farming, I firebombed a power tower.”
“Really? Cool! Where was this?”
“Ski resort.”
“Why? You didn’t like waiting on the lift?”
Stone chuckles. Today he is allowing me to tease him. It’s like scratching a pit bull behind the ears.
“The neat part was that all we had to bring the thing down were a couple buckets of fuel, a kitchen timer, and an igniter they use for model rockets. You should have seen that thing keel over—power lines, trees, man, that was a tangle—tipping, tipping…tipping… into twelve feet of pure virgin snow.”
“Because?”
“Somebody was pissed off about endangered cats. I can’t remember what kind.”
Caution. No, it’s okay. Darcy, the activist, would know.
“Were they lynx?”
He looks pleased. “That’s right.”
Ecoterrorism. Vail, Colorado. A wave of unsolved fire bombings the Bureau has been chasing since the early nineties.
“That was impressive. Nobody ever took credit.”
He slaps my thigh in a friendly way. “Now you know.”
I can get anything I want from him now. What a feeling! It’s exciting. Tremendous! This is the good thing about penetrating without an informant: Nobody can snitch off you; nobody can compromise you. If we had tried to flip Megan, I’d never be where I am at this moment, confident and relaxed, riding up front with Stone. It’s as if you’ve stepped through the danger and you’re actually being sheltered by the source. The real source, which is Stone’s mind, a mandala of private symbols and pulsing hurts, in which the figure of Darcy DeGuzman has come to stand as a trusted ally. I see why guys like Angelo are addicted. It’s the greatest high in the world, to carry the shield you swore upon, to be representing the good people of this country, and the innocent, to be their emissary, to have the ability to talk with somebody who actually wants to harm you—talking to that person’s heart.
“This was in your badass revolutionary days.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Who said they’re over?”
I can barely control the eagerness. Everything seems so close. So possible.
“Does Toby have something to do with all this? You seem hell-bent on seeing him today.”
“He found the kind of boat I need.”
“For the Big One? Tell me.”
Now he is teasing. “Mmm, I’m not sure you’re ready to know.”
“Why not?”
Another trial of fire and ice?
“You promised to do something for me.”
“Off Herbert Laumann? I said I’d do it and I will.”
He assents in a fatherly way. That’s all for now.
“Be at peace and know that everything is unfolding