War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel (36 page)

“I was provoked,” Daniel said.

“By the Establishment and the Yale oppression,” I said, letting all the contempt I felt into my voice.
“Oppression most of us can’t afford for our own child.
Oppression that has to be earned.”

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“I understand,” I said.
“You’re angry because you don’t get special privileges any more.
You’re no longer Daniel the Smartest Person in the Room, and it upsets you.
So you try to get special privileges for being the darkest person in the room, and when that fails, you decide to become a victim.”

“Fuck you,” Daniel said, and shoved me.

I pushed him against the wall, then held him there with one hand.

“I’m not liking anything I hear about you, Daniel.
I thought maybe you were decent last summer when you helped me find your brother.
Then you come back here and nearly kill a kid for no reason.
You scare a bunch of people at various places, and the last place I go to, I find stuff that scares me.
You kids have no idea what you’re playing with. Revolution?
Have you ever seen a revolution? Have you ever shot someone? Have you ever cleaned blood off a wall? Or carried a dead friend’s body two miles holding him by his hips and his shoulders because his back has been blown away?
Do you know what bombs do to people? Innocent people?”

“No one’s innocent,” Daniel said. “Not in this world.”

It took all of my strength not to backhand him across the mouth.

“Your brother’s innocent.
And so’s your mother. And so was that little boy we found murdered last summer.
You set off a bomb, and people like that die.
People who did nothing more than go to work or chose the wrong apartment.
Do you really think that there’s going to be a revolution in this country? That people like me are going to follow babies like you?”

I let him go.
He staggered forward.

“We never said that bomb stuff was ours,” one of the boys behind me said.
“In fact, Danny said it wasn’t.
You heard him.”

“Yeah, I heard him,” I said. “I just didn’t believe him.”

Daniel had a hand on his chest.
My handprint was purpling his bare skin. “You want a tour, man?”

“Yeah,” I said.
“I do. Then I want Rhondelle.”

“Why?” Daniel asked.

“Because you haven’t been treating her well
,
either.”

“She makes her own choices,” Daniel said.

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“Upstairs.” His voice was scratchy.
“Sleeping.”

I looked from him to the other three. They all looked terrified.
Maybe they’d never seen real violence before.

“You three sit down.
I don’t want to hear a peep from you while Daniel’s giving me the tour.
And if any of you threaten me, well, you’ve seen what I can do on a moment’s notice. Think of what I can do with a little time to plan.”

The boys backed toward their chair
s
.
The girl grabbed the counter, and leaned against it, her lower lip visibly shaking as if she were about to cry.

“I don’t have to show you anything,” Daniel said, finally rising to his full height.

It was his last stand.

“Yeah,” I said as quietly as I could, knowing that Daniel heard the menace in my voice.
“Yeah, you do.”

THIRTY-FIVE

The row house was a mess. Clothing was strewn everywhere, and dishes cluttered every available surface. The bathroom hadn’t been cleaned since Daniel’s group had moved in.

I looked through each and every cabinet as we walked through the house, examined every closet, opened every box.
I found evidence of more than five people living in the house — if I had to guess, I would have suspected ten or more — but I saw no bomb-making equipment, and only one shotgun, which Daniel assured me was for protection.

Rhondelle was in bed on the second floor. She was naked, and as I entered the room, she pulled covers up to her neck.
I flicked on the overhead light, mostly to see if she had new bruises, and she cursed me.

The room smelled of sex.

“She’s staying here,” Daniel said.

“Is that true, Rhondelle?” I asked her.

There was an emptiness to her gaze as her eyes met mine.
“Do I look like someone who wants to leave?”

“You like getting bruises on your face?” I asked her.

Daniel flinched beside me, but didn’t move.

“We’re in a war, man,” Rhondelle said, and it sounded like the party line.

“The country’s in a war,” I said.

“
We’re
in the war,” Daniel said.
“We’re trying to stop something unjust—”

“I’m talking to Rhondelle,” I snapped.
Then I said, my voice softer, “I’ll take you with me.
You don’t have to stay, no matter what he says.”

“This is my home,” she said.

“This is your grandparents’ home, and your friends are ruining it.
Just like Daniel ruined your pretty face.
Come with me.
No one’ll hit you in New Haven.”

“You so sure of that, man?” Daniel asked me.

But I ignored him.
Rhondelle looked over my shoulder at Daniel, as if she were asking his permission.

“Come with me,” I said again.

Slowly she shook her head, never taking her gaze off Daniel.

“I can keep you safe.”

“Sure, man,” Daniel said. “Like the government keeps us safe. Rhondi’s better off here.”

“Rhondelle’s better off making her own decisions,” I said.

“I’m staying,” she whispered.

I stared at her for a moment. She stared back.
After a moment, she closed her eyes and lay back down.

I sighed.
I wasn’t going to convince her to leave Daniel.
So I searched the room.

I started with the closet.
Then I looked under the bed, and even checked out the corner fireplace to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

Rhondelle said nothing.
Daniel watched me as if I were some kind of lunatic who had invaded his house.

We finished the upstairs.
I made Daniel take me into the attic where I found lots of boxes of old books and clothes, some of which had become mice nests.
But I found no gasoline or bottles or anything that looked like it might be the stockpile for a revolution.

Even the cellar was empty, except for a ringer washer and clothes lines that someone had strung
between
the beams.

“Satisfied?” Daniel asked me when he finally brought me back to the kitchen.

“No,” I said.
“But I’ve done my job.
I’ve found you.
I’ve found Rhondelle. I told you both to contact your parents.
I can’t do much else.”

“Damn straight,” Daniel said. “We’ve got a life. We’re actually fighting for something that means something.
You can go back to your crummy apartment and dig through other people’s garbage, but we’re going to change this world.
We’re going to bring it down bit by bit.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“When you tear down society, then what’ll you do?”

“Build a better one,” Daniel said.

“How?” I asked.

“You’ll know,” he said.
“You’ll know tomorrow.”

I stiffened.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Partying.”
Only when he spoke, his voice was full of sarcasm. Then he ran his fingers over the bruise I gave him. “You’re just like the rest of them, you know.
You think just because you’re stronger than me, you’ve defeated me.
Shows you don’t know a goddamn thing.”

“That’s right,” I said.
“I don’t know anything.
I don’t know how a good woman like Grace Kirkland could have raised a loser like you.”

“I’m not the loser,” he said. “I’m not the guy who drags his kid from place to place because he can’t hold a job.”

“No, you’re the guy who mooches off his girlfriend, and throws away his education.”

“You ever read about revolution, man? You gotta go underground before you take action.”

I studied him.
“This isn’t some backward colony in the
eighteenth
century.
If you take action, you’ll be arrested.
Have you even seen a prison?”

“You think I’ll get caught.”

“If you don’t die first,” I said.
“You’re playing with things you don’t understand.”

“You assume that what you saw in New Haven is mine,” he said.
“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Enlighten me.”

He studied me for a moment, as if he
were
considering it.
Then he said, “It’s not my job, man.
Now get the hell out of my house.”

THIRTY-SIX

I had no choice but to leave.
I couldn’t do anything else—yet.

As I stepped out of the row house, Daniel slammed the door behind me.
I could feel the reverberation through the steps.

The rain had stopped, but water still dripped off every surface.
I thought I saw movement to my right, but when I glanced that direction, nothing was there.

My heart pounded.
I was usually good at spotting surveillance.
I hoped I hadn’t seen a cop.
I hoped I was just being paranoid.

Still, I walked quickly away from the Whickam row house.
About a block away, an expensive sedan with Connecticut plates was attempting a New Yorker’s version of parallel park
ing
— hit
ting
the front bumper of the car in the back, the back bumper of the car in the front, until the new car has squeezed into such a small space that no one could move.

Finally the door opened, and René Whickam got out.

He seemed overdressed for the neighborhood.
His suit was light, but stylish, and even though he wore no tie, his white shirt looked formal and out of place.

He was the last person I wanted to see.

“Professor,” I said as I crossed the street to join him.
“I thought I told you I’d call.”

He shrugged.
“I have to get Rhondelle.”

“I was just there,” I said. “She doesn’t want to leave.”

“I don’t care what she wants,” he said.
“She is coming home.”

He crossed the street, sliding slightly on the wet pavement.
I hurried after him.

“There’s a lot of kids in that place,” I said.

“Then I will have them arrested,” Whickam said.

“We already discussed that,” I said.
“I don’t think the police’ll listen.”

“My family used to have a lot of clout in this neighborhood,” he said. “The police will listen.”

Whickam was living in some kind of fantasy world, one I didn’t entirely understand.
Still, I followed him as he strode down the block.

He took the stairs two at a time, then grabbed the doorknob and tried to shove the door open.
The door was locked.
He reached inside his
suit coat
and removed his keys, quickly unlocking the door.

I stood beside him.
I couldn’t stop him, but I could protect him if he needed it.

The door swung open, only to reveal Daniel standing there.
He pointed the shotgun at Whickam.

“Good evening, Professor Whickam.” Daniel
s
aid
.”

Whickam took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as if that gave him strength.
“Where’s my daughter?”

Daniel smiled.
The smile was cold.
His gaze never left Whickam, but I knew that Daniel saw me as well.

Perhaps he thought he could control me by ignoring me.

“You’re not welcome here, Professor,” Daniel said.

“It’s my home,” Whickam said. “I was born here.
You have no claim to the place.”

“Your daughter invited me.
Then you sent this thug in.”
Daniel nodded toward me.
“See what he did to me?”