“He ain't a rider,” I said. “Not even from here. Just a bastard who thinks it's alright to hit women that ain't his to hit.”
Beacon picked up the picture, studied it.
“Can I keep this?” he asked. I was surprised, but I nodded. “Well, you're right. I ain't in the mood to grant you this favor, seein' as how your boys already got a good look at our territory. Hey, they wouldn't have been takin' it on themselves to find this fellow for you?”
I almost said no right off the bat, but I thought better of it.
“Could be,” I said with a shrug. “Won't know 'til I get home and string them up by their bootlaces until they spill.”
Beacon grunted and leaned back in his chair.
“I'll circulate this 'round my men,” he said, gesturing to the picture. “And if anyone sees him, they'll push him in your direction. That's all I can do for you at the moment. You still lookin' for him in a month, and we don't have no more trouble with your boys, you can come 'round and ask again.”
“Thank you kindly,” I said, rising and offering my hand again. This time, Beacon took it.
“You know, a lot of my men, they say your pa's alright,” he said. “I 'spect it runs in the family. I hope you can get your prospects in line before we have to do something about it.”
“I'll be sure to,” I said, knowing damn well I could make no such promise. Leavin' the bar, with every eye following me once more, I felt the winds startin' to change as clouds covered the sun again. It would take a fast ride to reach my side of town before the rain started, which was just fine with me; I wanted out of there as fast as possible, anyway.
But first, I had a call to make.
“Blade,” I said. “We got a problem. But I think I might know someone who can help us solve it. Can you get Hunter to come 'round to your place? I got some questions, and this time, he's gonna answer 'em.”
Cross
Hunter looked like he'd been dragged into an interrogation room, and he was pretty much right to look that way. Even though we were gathered in Blade’s living room instead of a grey cement block lit by a single bulb, with a bottle of whiskey between us instead of a Styrofoam cup of coffee, it was essentially the same thing.
It wasn't my first time in Blade's place, but I never stopped marveling at how neat and nice it was. His walls were painted baby blue, and he had bookshelves with real books on 'em, and a big flat-screen TV with an “entertainment center” (as the yuppies call it). Even had art on the walls and a couch with pillows on it.
For Blade, a 6'2 biker with ink up to his eyeballs, it wasn't the most typical of surroundings. And since I’d never seen him read a book, or heard him say a word about art, I had no idea whether or not those books served any purpose besides impressing broads.
Hunter sat across from us in Blade's big easy chair, lookin' scared, like I said.
“Listen, guys...”
“I'm gonna have to stop ya there, bud,” Blade said. His voice broached no argument. There was a reason Dutch picked him as his second-in-command, and it was because Blade knew how to talk to people so they'd listen. When Blade told you to do something, it sounded like such a good idea you were eager as hell to do it. “Before we get into it, let's get some drink in us.”
He poured out three shots and we slammed them down, toasting (as always) to our brethren.
“There,” Blade said, givin' Hunter an easy smile. “Now, it's a real meeting.”
“Okay, but I don't know what you want from me,” Hunter said, looking a bit rosy in the cheeks but still squirming. That scar down the side of his face looked like it burned.
“Just to talk,” I said. “See, I was over in Blackhawks territory earlier today...”
Hunter blanched, his eyes flicking back and forth between Blade and I. We cut an imposing image, I know. Would he keep protecting Dutch's secrets with both of us pressin' him? I hoped not.
“...and what'd they say to you, Cross?” Blade asked, still smilin’ like a gentleman.
“Told me a strange story about some of our prospects ridin' through their territory,” I said. “So I thought, well, shit. Maybe these boys don't know just how dangerous it would be to step on the Blackhawks' toes. Maybe you young guns don't realize that this truce is the only thing standing between us and utter chaos.”
Hunter didn't say anything.
“You didn't, by any chance, take part in one of these runs, did you?” Blade asked. Hunter shook his head with such vigor, I thought he might shake the red hair straight off his head.
“No,” he said. “Hell no. I mean, I wasn't about to...”
“But you knew about them,” Blade went on.
Hunter's jaw opened and shut. He kept looking at the door.
“Hunter, just come out with it,” I said. “Whose idea was it to cross into the other side of town?”
He croaked something out, but it wasn't anything close to an answer. Blade glanced at me. If it was a prospect, Hunter would have told us. That meant it was a brother – and who would be dumb enough to do that?
Maybe not dumb, though. Maybe crazy. Crazy like Dutch.
“Was it Dutch, Hunter?” Blade came right out with it, stealin' the words straight from my lips. Hunter blushed, blinked, did everything but nod his head. “Just tell us. We already suspect it's him. I know you're trying to be loyal, but right now, you need to be loyal to the club, not to Dutch. If he's trying to fuck with the Blackhawks, he's dooming us all. Get it?”
“Shit,” Hunter groaned. “Shit, guys! Shit! Yeah, alright? Yeah, it was fuckin' Dutch! He...he wanted us to go in and scope it out, see what their numbers were like, what their territory looked like....he wants it. He wants their territory. Says we could take them, says we're better and stronger and we deserve the whole city, not just half of it. Fuckin'...shit!”
Watching Hunter spill it all was like watching a balloon lose its air. When he was done, he looked limp, deflated. Blade's hand didn't shake as he poured out another round of shots, but I could see by the lock of his jaw he was fuming. Couldn't say we didn't see it comin', but having it confirmed was another thing.
“We're gonna take this shot, Hunter, and then you're gonna tell us, again, and slow this time, everything you know,” Blade said. “Alright?”
Hunter nodded, and his hands were shaking as he took the glass and shot back the liquor. And then he was ready to tell us everything he knew. Which turned out to be more than we could have hoped for.
Dutch knew he had no chance of swayin' the old guard to his side, so he went straight for the prospects, and the young bloods. He was power hungry, greedy. And he always had that woman at his side, Sylvia, the girl who came from nowhere and had nothin' good to offer. She was the Lady to his Macbeth, it seemed, probably feeding him drugs and ideas at the same damn time.
I wasted some time feelin' sorry for him. A man like Dutch, a good fuckin' man, gone screwy at the end of his reign. Could have gone out respected and strong and worth remembering, his name up there on the clubhouse wall under the rest of the clu
b's Presidents. Now, who knew how it would end?
So Dutch went for the kids. Told them how much more they could be makin’, how much better they could be livin’, if we didn't have to split the city down the middle. What was he gonna do with the rest of us? Hunter didn't know, but we could imagine. Dutch thought that if he had the younger members behind him, backin' him, he could wipe out the old guard, and me. He still thought Blade would play Dutch's game when called to it. Guess Blade didn't have my rebel spirit.
But there, I felt, was where he fucked up. 'Cause you could say a lot about the power of youth, but discounting men like my father was never a good idea. The more Hunter talked, the more I knew what we were gonna have to do. It wasn't gonna be easy, and it might not work at all, but it was just about the only option I could see.
Because the other option wasn't an option at all: I was not gonna hop on my bike and run outta Cutter like a coward, leave the mess for someone else to clean up. I'd devoted my life to the Dead Crusaders, had their name tattooed bold as could be across my chest. Nothin' but nothin' could get me to abandon my brothers.
We sent Hunter on his way shortly enough, and he looked relieved as shit to be goin'. I vowed to him – and to myself – that no matter what, it would never get out that he was the one to squeal on Dutch. He'd be as good as dead if such a thing started circulatin'. Of course, if this ever ended, he'd be the first prospect we patched in. Maybe he betrayed Dutch, a cardinal sin, but he did it for the kinds of reasons that made him good as gold in my eyes.
Blade and I sat over that bottle, him drinkin' hard and me soberin' up.
“Grinder,” I said. “I gotta tell Grinder. And he can talk to the boys. They'll listen to him, more'n you or me.”
Blade nodded, ran a hand over his eyes.