“I meant somethingeasy,” Smalls grumbled. Then, “I’ll make a call.”
—
LUCAS WENT TO DINNERwith Bob and Rae, who marveled at the restaurant, at the lack of bad music that made it possible toactually talk, and further, that Lucas was paying for it out of his own pocket. Like Henderson and Smalls, they ordered a dozen oysters each, followed by steaks and spirits.
“Now that I’m sitting here in my shabby-chic dress because I can’t afford anything actually chic, tell me what the occasion is,” Rae said.
“Goodbye dinner, see you next time,” Lucas said. “The fact is, the FBI is taking over. There’s nothing more for us to do.”
“Yeah, I sort of figured that out,” Bob said, and Rae nodded.
Lucas said, “I called Russell, he’s fixed your travel back to New Orleans at nine o’clock tomorrow. Got to be out at National by seven, what with all the guns and stuff.”
“Probably won’t see you tomorrow, then,” Bob said.
“Probably not.”
Rae: “You got anything good coming up?”
“No, not really. I’d like something simple: a straight-up cannibal on the run, maybe a child rapist. Somebody we could corner and feel good about shooting,” Lucas said. “This political shit is giving me a rash.”
Rae ran a hand over her close-cropped hair, then said, “I have to tell you, I get all excited when you call. So does Bob. We know it’s going to be something good. Don’t hesitate to call us again.”
Bob said to Rae, “You know what? Let’s get back home and hit the computers. Dig around. Find something we can do, all three of us. Let’s not forget, there’s a whole world of scum out there. Wastes of good skin. Douchebags.”
“Asswipes,” Lucas added.
“Miscreants,” Rae said. The two men looked at each other,grinned and shook their heads. “What? So I got a vocabulary, unlike some people?”
“If you find somebody to chase, try to find him in an interesting place,” Lucas said. “New York, Miami, New Orleans. The scuzzier the better. I don’t want any Denvers or Seattles or Portlands. No place where you might wound a hipster by accident.”
“What if it’s not a him? What if it’s a her?” Rae asked.
“Even better,” Lucas said. “I haven’t shot a female miscreant in a while.”
“You did punch one out, though,” Rae observed. “Nice punch, too. I was impressed.”
—
LUCAS GOT BACKto his room at ten o’clock, after a final nightcap with Bob and Rae in the hotel bar. He went to an all-news station on the TV, and when a new program came on at ten, found himself looking at Audrey Coil, sitting teary-eyed and badly lit in a lounge chair with a brown teddy bear in her lap, being interviewed by a woman with a non-DC haircut and consoling expression. Lucas suspected she might be a talking head from E!
Coil was confessing: “It started out as a joke...”
Lucas said to the television, “All right, I don’t believe the fuckin’ teddy bear.”
Rae called: “You looking at the television?”
“Audrey Coil. Yeah. I was wondering about the teddy bear.”
“What teddy bear?”
“In her lap.”
“You must be watching a different station. On mine, she’s standing outside by her daddy’s Porsche Cayenne. She must not have a lawyer: a lawyer would never allow her to admit this. Not live, on TV.”
“She’s live? What channel?”
Lucas turned to the channel, where a woman who resembled a sleek white-tipped shark was pressing a microphone into Audrey’s face. Still tearful, no bear.
