The Triggerman Dance

Evan's deep laugh issued forth again, his shoulders heaving and a pink rush of blood coming to his otherwise gray face. His

False teeth shone. Then Weinstein grinned—something Menden had never seen—followed by a giggle from Sharon Dumars. It was all just too much for them. The cook cast a quick glance at him from the kitchen, accompanied by a smirk.

"He needs to know," said Evan, stifling his laughter, looking at Joshua. "God, this is some really funny material here."

Weinstein's grin dissipated and he drew a deep breath. "You will learn, John. That's all I can tell you now."

"Comforting, isn't it?" asked Evan, looking down at his watch. "Sign those papers, will you? I've got to see a man about a dog."

Dog or not, Norton nee Evan dismissed Dumars and John after John signed the papers. He glanced through them quickly, paying no attention whatsoever to Joshua Weinstein, who sat quietly in his chair. Norton slapped the last sheet over, stuffed the documents back into his briefcase and snapped it shut.

"He's uppity," Norton finally declared.

"We need his spirits high."

"Don't tell me what we need, Joshua. Is this honesty of his a chronic thing or just what he trots out when he's surprised by something?"

Norton now spoke without a trace of Texas accent.

"I haven't seen him surprised by anything yet. Menden reverts to candor when he's not sure what lie to tell."

"Certainly you'd warned him about the revenge and hatred speech."

"Well, yes. You have to understand, Norton, it's his high level of emotion that might make this thing sustainable."

"Stop quoting me." He sighed, hefting the briefcase off the table and onto the floor.

At this point the Latina cook came in, wearing a business suit. Her thick black hair was tied back and she was stuffing her apron into a duffel bag. She nodded at Joshua, then set her pistol on the counter and started putting away the clean dishes.

"Monica?" asked Norton, without looking at her.

"He's just confident enough to get into trouble," she said. "He needs to believe more in us. He needs to depend on us."

"He'll come to do that," said Weinstein. "We're trying to build a relationship with him, not offer a one-night stand."

"I don't trust pretty men," said Norton. "They lack character, period."

"He's passed every phase of his training perfectly. It's not his fault he's got a pretty face. That's what got us all here, isn't it?"

Norton nodded, acknowledging this reference to Rebecca. "How does he react to pressure?"

"The most pressure we've put him through was today, your questions about Rebecca."

"Based on that, I'd say he's liable to become pissed off."

"I think he can keep his head."

"Does he sprint at the end of his runs?"

"Always. Why?"

"He looks like a quick-comer to me. He might need endurance, Joshua. If he saves enough mustard for a sprint after seven miles, all the better. Has he shown any interest in Sharon?"

"A little. Not much. I could be wrong, though."

"Hmm. I'd sure like to have more pull with him than just you."

"Rebecca's the pull, Norton. Not me, or Sharon, or anyone else. He's single-minded."

"No use trying to change that, I suppose."

"Let's use it while it's there."

Norton and Weinstein stood and shook hands. Monica took a chair at the table.

"Things in Washington are okay," said Norton "Frazee is still too interested in Wayfarer, but I don't know how to correct that. And the more I try to shade him away, the more control he wants. He's like a kid with toys. I hate bureaucrats. Of course he's worried sick about the Hate Crimes money we got from the White House—worried about it going away. He's always whining about no money. So he's determined to keep this operation small and deniable. No show of force from us. No Ruby Ridge. No Waco."

"We've all got our crosses to bear," said Monica. "You're Joshua's, and Frazee is yours."

"Whose are you?"

"My husband's, I hope."

Weinstein remained standing when Norton sat back down. Joshua's stomach was trembling a little, and he felt uncertain in his knees. "Well?" he asked.

"Nice work," said Norton. "Move ahead."

CHAPTER 9

They dropped John in front of a little house on Sun Valley Drive a small street off of Laguna Canyon Road, then headed for town to pick up some groceries for their celebration.

He stood there for a while, noting the fresh asphalt under his feet, the ivy choking the Chinese elm in his front yard, the wooden fence he'd built to contain the dogs, the old brick chimney and the forlorn face of the house he had once happily called home. Mrs. Gorman from across the street waved at him uncertainly, focusing on him with her weak eyes as if he were someone returned from the dead. He nodded, walked down the driveway and let himself in through the squeaking gate for the first time in almost five months.