Libra - Don Delillo [102]
The watering can was gritty metal with an ugly snub spout.
He found Suzanne awake when he looked inside. There was a cloth-and-vinyl toy at the end of the bed, a football player they’d named Willie Wonder, with padded shoulders and polished chino pants. Win turned the key at Willie’s back and sent him on a broken-field run the length of the bed. He broadcast the run in an urgent voice, described missed tackles and downfield blocks, added the roar of the crowd, became the official who signaled touchdown when the toy spun backwards into a pillow. Suzanne showed a pleasure that seemed to start at her feet and creep up her body and into her eyes, making them large and bright.
If he could only keep surprising her, she would have a reason to love him forever.
Mackey drove across a drawbridge over the Miami River. The tires wailed on the iron grid. A white sloop moved upriver in the dark, a little mystery of grace and stealth. Two blocks south of the bridge he saw the first Volveremos bumper sticker. Empty streets. His hands sticking to the wheel.
He parked on a sidestreet and walked around the comer to a vast car lot. It took him ten minutes to find Wayne Elko stupidly sprawled in the back seat of a red Impala. The top was down and Wayne was gazing into the night.
“How did I get in here so easy?”
“T-Jay.”
“You’re the watchman, I hear.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“I drove nearly a thousand miles just to see you, Wayne.”
“I about gave you up.”
Mackey leaned against the car and looked off toward the street as if the sight of the bedraggled Wayne Elko, in bare feet, with clothes and other possessions strewn about, was a little too bleak to take in right now.
“I saw Raymo and what’s-his-name. I spent time with them training in the Glades, man. There is Alpha 66 people infesting the Glades. We trained with them a little bit. I never turned my back except to pee.”
“Alpha won’t bother us. I have long-time contacts in Alpha.”
“Are you Agency, T-Jay, or what?”
“Not no more, Bubba. Sold my peewee trailer for small change and here I am. What do they call us, retirees?”
“We train with real shit weapons.”
“Weapons are coming.”
“The stars are fucking fantastic. I love the Glades for the clear nights. It’s a whole other world out there. See those hawks zoom. I wouldn’t mind going out again. My back’s messed up from sleeping in the car.”
“We have a friendly source of funds will come through for you soon. ”
“When I was with Interpen, we had hotel and casino money.”
“We have a fellow in New Orleans.”
Mackey didn’t trust Guy Banister. Guy was past it now, a once able man who’d grown fierce and unsteady in his hatreds. He was delivering money and weapons but would not support the operation blindly. Mackey would have to tell him who the target was or else invent a target. Either way he risked betrayal. Guy was deep in causes and affiliations. He had influence in a dozen directions. It was not reasonable to expect a man like that to sit and watch the event unfold. He’d want to take an active hand. He’d set loose forces that would threaten the self-contained system Mackey wanted to create.
He didn’t trust Wayne Elko. Not that Wayne would knowingly turn. It was a question of temperament, unpredictability. Wayne had a gift for the celebrated fuck-up. He also had a nature that went violent in a flash. There was something a little viperish about him. He drawled and rambled and looked sleepy-eyed, stroking his lean jaw, then suddenly took offense. He was a man who took offense in a serious way. Scraggly and lank. Those ripe eyes bulging. An idea of himself as born to the warrior class. Mackey was sure he could get