They’d returned to the New Delhi parking lot and Steve Dellick was standing at the side of an Austintown police car, talking to a man who wore a sharply pressed blue uniform. Dellick was saying, “Whistle up an ambulance—we have a casualty back in the woods. You can wrap it up when they’ve gotten the body out of here.”
The uniformed man had a lot of gold braid on his cap, indicating that he was a general or an admiral or whatever they were in Austintown. He said, “I’ve been here since four this morning—no one has driven in.”
Kevin Mahoney said, “Anybody go out?”
The field marshal said, “Yeah, two men in a blue T-bird, Illinois plates.”
Steve Dellick said, When?”
“Ten, twelve minutes ago—you said to keep everybody out, not in.”
Lockington said, “It’s all right—forget it.”
Dellick said, “Now, wait just a minute!”
Lockington said, “Forget it, Dellick. Don’t make waves—this is a national security matter, isn’t it?”
Dellick said, “But who were they?”
Lockington said, “They were staying in Room 5—I saw ’em. Probably a couple fags on their way to New York—no connection.”
Dellick said, “All right, so much for that, but where’s Devereaux’s manuscript?”
Lockington said, “Damn, I should have mentioned that—there ain’t no manuscript.”
Dellick said, “Aw, c’mon, Lockington!”
Lockington said, “There never was a manuscript—Rufe Devereaux couldn’t have written a grocery list.” He turned, walking away, Natasha Gorky following, catching up to grab his arm.
Dellick said, “That’s all there is?”
Lockington paused. Over his shoulder he said, “That’s all unless you’re interested in three K’s of coke in a closet at 3,000 North Onines in Leyden Township.”
Natasha whispered. “Thank you.”
Lockington said, “Now that your T-bird’s gone, you may want a lift to Chicago.”
“I’d be grateful for that! I’ll throw my things into your car, then I’ll help you with your packing.”
When she came into Room 12, Lockington was sitting in the overstuffed chair. He took her by the hand, pulling her to him. He flipped her face-down over his knee. He hoisted her skirt, noting with approval that the lady from Odessa wore no panties. He tanned her tawny fanny, swatting it as rapidly and with as much force as he could muster. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t squirm, she didn’t cry out, she took it like a soldier. When he was worn out, she slipped to the floor on her knees, facing him, smiling, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, “Did you enjoy that?”
Lockington said, “Every goddamned moment of it!”
Natasha Gorky threw her arms around him, squeezing him hard. She said, “Oh, Lacey Lockington, so did I, so did I!”
There were times when Lockington realized that he had a lot to learn about women.
This was one of those times.