The speed limit was seventy, the Lincoln rode rough but steady, and the retrofitted FM radio worked reasonably well. I passed the rest of the drive back to New Mexico listening to country music and fundamentalist Christian stations.
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee.
Jesus seemed like a pretty good idea at the moment. But the hours of driving exhausted my fear, and on the outskirts of Gallup I came to my senses and erased the text to Blake on my phone, replacing it with I’ll be in Gallup in twenty minutes. He immediately replied: Meet me at Earl’s.
Earl’s Restaurant was about a mile down the strip. Blake stood on the curb, his hands thrust into the pockets of his windbreaker, his face lined with anxiety. “Where did you get this?” he said absently, patting the fender of the Lincoln after I pulled to the curb. Then he wrapped his arms hard around me. “Stay calm,” he said, “but Claudia’s been hurt. Her father left for Oklahoma on a chartered plane a few hours ago. I waited to tell you.”
He released me and held on to both my hands. We stared into each other’s eyes like a pair of scared teenagers.
“Ellen, the FBI is now insisting that you work directly with them. They’ll protect you. You were right that your brother is alive.”
“I’ve had a long drive to think about all of this, Blake. I did get very scared, but I don’t believe I’m on anybody’s list as dangerous. Tell me what happened to Claudia.”
Claudia had been found lying beside her rental car on a dirt road in the Ozarks, forty miles north of Elohim City. Her jaw was broken, and she was unconscious. As beatings go, it had not been dreadful. She had not been raped, but someone had used a small blade to write JEW onto her forehead and carve ZOG into her arm.
“This is my fault,” I said, beginning to hyperventilate.
He still held on to my hands. “Ellen, look at me.”
Gasping, I looked into his face.
“Keep looking at me.”
I held on to his ordinary face and began to quiet down.
“You need to hear me right now. None of this is your fault. These are very bad people we’re dealing with.”
My breathing slowed to the panting stage. “She’s going to be okay?”
“That’s not clear yet. The main problem was the force of the blow to her face. Somebody hit her hard enough to break the bone. She’ll be in intensive care until she’s conscious and they’re sure they have any consequences under control. She does have quite a concussion, that’s for sure.”
A fresh wave of panic broke over me, but I controlled my breathing. “It’s my fault.”
“No, Ellen, this was about her. Their fury was about the piece she wrote in the New York Times. They left a note in her car about Jews and ZOG media, and they even mentioned the name of her article, ‘The Tomb of the Unknown Racist.’ But they spelled it T-O-M-E.”
“Really? These are people who read the Sunday Times Magazine?”
“They’re not all idiots, and they do have communications networks.”
I let go of his hands and turned toward the restaurant. “Let’s get off the damn street. I’m not sure what to do next. Maybe that’s why Dabley showed up after the AA meeting. Maybe they were planning to teach both Claudia and me some manners.”
He followed me in, and we settled into a booth with vinyl seats as shredded as the leather in my new ride. “I didn’t want to tell you this until I got here. Claude Dabley, the man who set Ruby up with the cave disaster, showed up after my noon AA meeting in Oklahoma City today. I told you, somebody has been watching me all along. Dabley wanted me to come with him. He claimed that Royce wants to see me, and he tried to convince me to get into his car.”
“Do you think it’s possible Royce is in Oklahoma?”
“I don’t see how. I think it must be true that he’s got physical mobility problems, and Oklahoma would be too close to Magnus. Having Claude Dabley show up scared the hell out of me. For all I know, his connection is with Magnus or with Elohim City, and this Royce-wants-to-meet-his-grandchildren scenario wasn’t even connected directly to my brother. Maybe it was all a setup. Maybe it was a way to try to draw Royce out of hiding. Or maybe you were right, and Royce is dead. I don’t know how to figure anything out. I did realize I might be in big trouble now. Claudia was missing, and Dabley was standing by my car.”
“Ellen, you’ll have to let the FBI protect you until this situation is under control. They’re going to let my friend be your point person. He’s the one who works in the office here. His name is Wally Furman. I trust him.”
“I’m surprised Claudia drove straight to the Ozarks. Even I wouldn’t do that alone. She’s got more courage than sense.”
“Well, you seem to be her role model.”
“Here’s what I’m willing to do, Blake. It’s what I told Dabley. I’ll check into the El Rancho and wait. I don’t care how your friend Wally decides to handle it. He can keep my room bugged and my car under surveillance, he can tie a fucking ribbon to my arm, but I’m staying at the El Rancho, and tomorrow morning I’m going to the prison to see Ruby. I’ll stay with Saint Irene tomorrow night because I need to talk to her. I’ll be back at the El Rancho first thing the next morning. And after that, whenever I leave the hotel, it will only be to go to AA or to Earl’s Restaurant or to the casino.”
“Can’t you skip this trip to the prison? Why is it necessary? Can’t you just stay here for the time being?”
“I need to talk to Sister Irene. I’m not sure why. And I want to talk to Ruby again.”
Wally, it turned out, sat nearby, watching us. Blake signaled him to come over. “Blake, you hold hands with girls in front of your friends?”
“Please drop the macho act,” Blake said. “I get so tired of it sometimes.”
Wally Furman was about our age, mid or late fifties, but he was taller, tanner, fitter, and his hair was silver. “You look like a movie star,” I said, shaking his hand. “Do you put something on your hair?”
He ignored my question and said he had just gotten word that Claudia was conscious. She hadn’t recognized the man and woman who attacked her, but she was certain that the perpetrator hadn’t been Joe Magnus. They had been a young couple, early twenties, maybe even late teens.
Wally left to make his arrangements at the El Rancho, but our meat loaf specials arrived, and Blake and I hurried to eat dinner. Then I walked him to my new ride so he could follow me back to the hotel. “What’s this?” He touched the fender.
“I like old cars. After my rental car got busted up, I won some cash playing craps.” He didn’t say anything. “You know, Blake, it doesn’t take a lot of money to buy cars like this. It mostly takes nerve and a Triple A card.”
“Why are they called ‘suicide doors’?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they were dangerous since both doors open from the middle. As a style, it was soon discontinued.”
“I guess that made it easier to get into the backseat. Like it did for the Kennedys.”
“Why are you going back to Oklahoma? Aren’t you still the police chief of Gallup, New Mexico, in the United States of America?”
“If I don’t go see Claudia, you’ll sneak away and go yourself. I know you’re safe here.”