Wolves of the Calla - Stephen King [258]
“Eddie? Come back from Nis!” Roland snapped his fingers in front of Eddie Dean’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “As for Tower…no, I didn’t like him much. God, sending his books through like that! Making his lousy first editions part of his condition for helping to save the fucking universe!”
“He doesn’t think of it in those terms…unless he does so in his dreams. And you know they’ll burn his shop when they get there and find him gone. Almost surely. Pour gasoline under the door and light it. Break his window and toss in a grenado, either manufactured or homemade. Do you mean to tell me that never occurred to you?”
Of course it had. “Well, maybe.”
It was Roland’s turn to utter the humorous grunting sound. “Not much may in that be. So he saved his best books. And now, in Doorway Cave, we have something to hide the Pere’s treasure behind. Although I suppose it must be counted our treasure now.”
“His courage didn’t strike me as real courage,” Eddie said. “It was more like greed.”
“Not all are called to the way of the sword or the gun or the ship,” Roland said, “but all serve ka.”
“Really? Does the Crimson King? Or the low men and women Callahan talked about?”
Roland didn’t reply.
Eddie said, “He may do well. Tower, I mean. Not the cat.”
“Very amusing,” Roland said dryly. He scratched a match on the seat of his pants, cupped the flame, lit his smoke.
“Thank you, Roland. You’re growing in that respect. Ask me if I think Tower and Deepneau can get out of New York City clean.”
“Do you?”
“No, I think they’ll leave a trail. We could follow it, but I’m hoping Balazar’s men won’t be able to. The one I worry about is Jack Andolini. He’s creepy-smart. As for Balazar, he made a contract with this Sombra Corporation.”
“Took the king’s salt.”
“Yeah, I guess somewhere up the line he did,” Eddie said. He had heard King instead of king, as in Crimson King. “Balazar knows that when you make a contract, you have to fill it or have a damned good reason why not. Fail and word gets out. Stories start to circulate about how so-and-so’s going soft, losing his shit. They’ve still got three weeks to find Tower and force him to sell the lot to Sombra. They’ll use it. Balazar’s not the FBI, but he is a connected guy, and…Roland, the worst thing about Tower is that in some ways, none of this is real to him. It’s like he’s mistaken his life for a life in one of his storybooks. He thinks things have got to turn out all right because the writer’s under contract.”
“You think he’ll be careless.”
Eddie voiced a rather wild laugh. “Oh, I know he’ll be careless. The question is whether or not Balazar will catch him at it.”
“We’re going to have to monitor Mr. Tower. Mind him for safety’s sake. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”
“Yer-bugger!” Eddie said, and after a moment’s silent consideration, both of them burst out laughing. When the fit had passed, Eddie said: “I think we ought to send Callahan, if he’ll go. You probably think I’m crazy, but—”
“Not at all,” Roland said. “He’s one of us…or could be. I felt that from the first. And he’s used to traveling in strange places. I’ll put it to him today. Tomorrow I’ll come up here with him and see him through the doorway—”
“Let me do it,” Eddie said. “Once was enough for you. At least for awhile.”
Roland eyed him carefully, then pitched his cigarette over the drop. “Why do you say so, Eddie?”
“Your hair’s gotten whiter up around here.” Eddie patted the crown of his own head. “Also, you’re walking a little stiff. It’s better now, but I’d guess the old rheumatiz kicked in on you a little. Fess up.”
“All right, I fess,” Roland said. If Eddie thought it was no more than old Mr. Rheumatiz, that was not so bad.
“Actually, I could bring him up tonight, long enough to get the zip code,” Eddie said. “It’ll be day again over there, I bet.”
“None of us is coming up this path in the dark. Not if we can help it.”
Eddie looked down the steep incline to where the fallen boulder jutted out, turning fifteen feet of their course into a tightrope-walk.