The Pot Luck restaurant, located in Berkeley near San Pablo Avenue and Channing Way, boasted a French menu and a formidable wine list. Christian glanced at his watch, his attention not only on the people at his table, but also on Wade and Allison’s escape from the Bay Area and California.
As the meal ended, Debbie placed a hand on Christian’s arm. “Thanks again for the warning, brother. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d be spending this evening differently.”
“We’re family,” Christian smiled easily, pulling a carnation from the vase on the table and handing it to her. “We need all our people free to throw the balance our way.”
“I don’t think they have much on me,” Kevin said hopefully. “A phony surname. No sales. No product. I’ll just … take a vacation ‘til things cool down. Stay with some friends in Hawaii for a few weeks. My landlord’s pissed as hell about the damage to the apartment. He said he’d collect my paintings.”
Christian watched as Kevin’s body seemed to slump, something more than the stress of the day.
“Anything wrong?” Christian asked.
Kevin was wondering at that moment whether he should confess that he’d mentioned Christian’s name to Wade only two weeks before. A single, stupid moment of bravado. Now, confronted by his own ego, he closed his eyes. Why had he tried to subtly put Wade down by describing how connected he was with the Brotherhood? After everything Christian had done, how could he repay him by telling him he’d put his freedom on the line?
“I was just thinking of Wade. What a waste.” Suddenly, Kevin was grinning. “What I wouldn’t have given to see Phil’s face when he’d discovered Wade had split from the police car.”
“Phil was the only agent who saw you, wasn’t he? Grow a beard. Let some time pass and memories dull. Tomorrow, the first thing I’ll do is put Phil’s name and description out over the grapevine.”
Amy looked at Christian, saw the determination in his eyes, and worried. He saw dealing as some kind of war—the people of vision pitted against the elements of darkness.
“Where’d you get Wade and Allison that set of IDs?” Kevin asked. “Debbie and I could use a set.”
Christian thought back to the meeting he’d had with Joe O’Brian, the investigator, a few hours ago. Lance Bormann had been right. Joe was smart, committed, professional, and a good source of fake identification.
Moreover, he was a conscious brother, enlightened. Since meeting some weeks ago, the two men had tripped, the bond between them strong and growing. Joe had gone out of his way to come up with Wade’s IDs in a couple of hours because Christian had asked.
“I’ll need passport photos,” he told Kevin. “We’ll put it together when you get back.”
Once again, Christian checked the time on his watch, anxious for Wade and Allison to be out of the area. “What time is their flight to Miami?”
“Midnight. From Reno. Who’s taking care of Sparks now that they’ve jumped bail?”
Christian picked up the check and laid several bills beneath it. “I am.”
Regarding Kevin’s disquiet, he smiled. “Don’t worry. You have a great time in Hawaii. Ready to get to the airport?”
“I owe you big time,” Kevin said, taking his hand.
“We both do.” Debbie hugged him. “Thank you, Christian.”
By midnight Christian was back in his living room looking out over the Bay. The night was clear, the fog still holding over the ocean. White lights dappled the land like jewels on black velvet. Above the Golden Gate, a full moon polished the water an iridescent blue-black. He toked on a jay and reached over to rub his hand along Amy’s leg.
“Close,” he murmured to her. “It was so close.”
“We lost five hundred doses when Wade got popped.”
“It’s okay. Those tabs will still make their way back into the scene. With Wade gone, the cops will sell them for pocket change.”
“You’re going to owe Melvin Sparks the rest of the bond money.”
“It’s only about three grand. But you’re right. When everything’s added up, Wade will have made an expensive error.”
Christian mentally went over the financial books. For the first time in weeks, he remembered Lisa’s share off his deals with Bob. One of these days, he was going to have to take care of getting it to her. She might leave the ashram and really need it.
“I love you, Christian,” Amy whispered close to his ear, touching his earlobe with her tongue. “You took care of everything, didn’t you?”
“No,” he said softly, already drifting into the warmth spreading in his body, ready to forget the day and feel only her soft caress. “It wasn’t me. We were protected by the Light. And as long as we hold to right purpose and right thinking, the Light will be with us.”