She needed time to think, but there was no time to think. Her first thought was that Ataki's killer -apparently Nancy Tamura's killer, too- was standing before her. But why would he do such a thing? And why would he be at her house now? Confession? And how could he be here so soon if what he was saying was the truth?
Cautiously, Doris said, "Mr. Alma Curar. Surely you realize you have to come with me. You've witnessed something. I swear to you, there's nothing to fear."
"You have no idea how much there is to fear," Alma Curar snapped. But then he calmed himself. "Speaking to the sergeant is pointless. The Army and all its power can't stop what's happening. But you and I might."
This was agonizing! But Doris didn't dare act too quickly, didn't dare try to contact the M.P.'s yet. She moved a hand slowly toward the porch swing as if afraid she might frighten him away.
"Shall we sit?"
"No."
"Then, please, Mr. Alma Curar, we're wasting precious time. If you know where Mrs. Tamura is, let's get the sergeant. Maybe it's not too late to save her."
"Of course it is! She was taken at least half an hour ago. It knows there's only so much time to leech its victims of fear before feeding. I told you, it's very clever."
Doris lost control. "What are you talking about, this 'it', 'it'!"
"The beast, Mrs. Tebbe. The werewolf, if you prefer."
A monster had swallowed their mother's head and dragged her through the fence. Damn it! Alma Curar was neither killer nor witness. He was just a nosy, superstitious Indian!
"Mr. Alma Curar, those children did not see a monster. They were terrified. They saw a horrible man or a band of horrible men--"
"Mrs. Tebbe, they saw what appeared to be a wolf, a massive wolf with --"
"Oh, for chrissake!"
"Mrs. Tebbe, was the moon full when Mr. Ataki died? Isn't it staring us in the face right now? There may be tracks, Mrs. Tebbe. The beast can cover most of them, but it must move in a hurry and may miss one or two. The beast relies on you not looking for --"
"This is ridiculous!" Oh, she couldn't believe this Navajo witch doctor had so easily taken her in. "Damn you, Alma Curar, how dare you waste my time! Get the hell out of my camp! And if you ever show your face anywhere near Tulenar again, know that I'm telling Captain Pierce tonight he gets the personal pleasure of throwing you in jail!"
"You won't be talking to the captain tonight, Mrs. Tebbe. Until the moons sets, he doesn't exist."
/ / / /
The line just kept ringing and ringing, until finally the operator interrupted.
"Mrs. Tebbe, I'd say the captain's not in his quarters. Is there another number you'd like me to try?"
"Assembly Center headquarters."
"One moment..."
Over and over again, nothing but the ringing.
Doris slammed the receiver down and the sergeant looked away uncomfortably.
Then he said, "We should try to contact the second in command then, Ma'am."
Doris shoved the phone in his direction and stared sullenly toward the office window. The search lights cut across the glass in slow, broad rhythms.
The sergeant gave the operator a number, then with the receiver to his ear, he began to say to Doris, "It could be that Captain Pierce is already on his-yeah, this is Sergeant Bauer, Tulenar. I need to speak with the lieutenant..." Bauer finished up and set the receiver back down. "Lieutenant Walker's on his way, ma'am. He's sending a man to the captain's quarters."
"Good," she said perfunctorily, giving him an equally perfunctory glance. Nothing to do now but wait. She stood. "Why don't we have some coffee, sergeant."
"Yeah. Yes, ma'am. Thanks."
Doris began toward the door, then realized the sergeant wasn't following her. She looked back at him pointedly. "It's out here by Harriet's desk."
"Oh... sure."
At the long folding table that doubled as the coffee service, Doris took the percolator from the hot plate and thrust it as Bauer. "You get the water. I'll measure."
In silence, they watched the coffee percolate until Bauer cleared his throat, apparently uncomfortable without small talk. He said, "Sorry about that little incident earlier, Ma'am."
Doris blinked herself out of deep thought. "What incident?"
"The Jap preacher. Sorry I didn't stop him from barging in. I didn't see him coming 'til it was too late..."
Jap preacher. Doris's shoulders tensed, but she only replied, "Don't worry about it."
"Well ... he was out of line, that's for damn sure. Pardon my French, ma'am, but...these people. Give 'em a little privilege and they forget which side of the fence they live on."
Arms crossed, Doris's fingernails pressed into her jacket sleeves. When she looked at the sergeant, her eyes might as well have been dripping venom. But, still, she didn't defend Arthur.
Instead she said icily, "Bring the coffee to my office when it's ready."
/ / / /
Doris had no intention of exchanging pleasantries when Pierce walked through her door. "Where the hell were you last night?"
He looked like crap, pale and tired. The creases at his eyes were magnified by his thick glasses. The scar at his hairline was blood red. He jerked the chair out and sat down, squinting against the sun's rays as they breached the horizon.
He didn't bother to answer question. "I've already been briefed. Any news since the drive over?"
"No." She wanted to ask him again, but even in her pique she knew she'd be out of line. Mrs. Tamura's disappearance was the important matter, not Pierce going on a bender during his off-hours. Before she could stop, she found herself repeating Arthur's words almost verbatim. "We can't deny this one, Captain. It's clear that Mrs. Tamura was abducted."
"But her sons are the only witnesses."
"As far as we know."
"You've interrogated the dormitory residences..."
"Of course. The whole block. Either no one else saw what happened or any other witnesses are too frightened to come forward. I doubt the latter. It happened too fast. Everybody's attention was on Mrs. Tamura's sons. The boys were so hysterical they couldn't even be understood at first."
Pierce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "So there's nothing to do but continue with the search parties."
"I suppose."
"The F.B.I.'s sending in an advisor, but for the time being this is still our show. Disjunction Lake's already filling up with press people. I don't know how the hell they found this out so soon."
"Just great..."
"Don't worry, Tulenar's surrounded by a quarter-mile of government property. They can't get any closer to you than that." He gingerly reset the glasses on his nose and looked at Doris sternly. "I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't talk to them."
Doris didn't even bother to reply. When the intercom buzzed, she stabbed at the button like it was a cockroach. "Yes."
Harriet Haku's voice, reedy through the intercom, replied. "Milton Eisenhower is calling."
The national director of the War Relocation Authority. Doris released the button without acknowledging Harriet. "Here it comes."
Pierce was rising from his chair, either out of politeness or hoping to escape. But as Doris reached for the receiver, she said, "Stick around, Captain, I'm sure he'll want to chat with you, too."
/ / / /
Normally, Doris would have eaten supper on her little porch. But she thought it wise to stay indoors, even though the internee protesters were not allowed past the camp's fence. She finished up in the kitchen, then took a cup of coffee to her living room window. She could see their line, being watched intently from each military tower. Hastily painted signs of rage bobbed above chanting faces. She couldn't make out individuals, but she was certain Arthur would be among them, shouting for action and demanding the release of Andrew Takei.
Thank Heaven Pierce had seen things her way. When the formal request for peaceable assembly had been put before her, Doris had been certain the captain would insist
she deny it. That twit Eshelmann sure would have, had he still been in command. But Pierce had impressed her by agreeing the request should be granted. The tension in Tulenar was like a noose around both their necks. If they didn't allow it some slack, Lord only knew what would happen.
In the meantime, no internees were allowed to approach Administration without direct approval from Doris or the WRA supervisors. Harriet had approval, of course, along with most of the regular staff. But this afternoon, Harriet -along with that staff- had forfeited a day's pay to attend the protest.
Arthur had not even submitted a request to see Doris.
She tried not to linger on that thought. She looked over to the place where David Alma Curar usually set up his wares. There was no sign of him.
Good, she thought, good. Crazy, superstitious idiot. Monsters. My God.
Pierce's intuition about the man had been right after all. So, what had stopped her from telling the captain about last night's encounter with the healer? Doris couldn't pretend she had forgotten about it because Alma Curar's image had sped across her mind that morning at every opportunity. But she and Pierce certainly had enough to worry about without using up manpower chasing after a lunatic. Anyway, the problem had obviously taken care of itself.
She wandered back to the kitchen to refill her cup and tried to ignore something nagging in the back of her mind. She knew what it was. Alma Curar's werewolf tale wasn't the first of its ilk she'd heard lately. She remembered Pierce's story as they had sipped plum wine a little over a month ago.
But Doris wasn't a child to be spooked by an odd coincidence. Two coincidences, if she counted the healer's guess that Pierce wouldn't be in his quarters last night. Her decision to allow Alma Curar a graceful exit was just a way of balancing a lesser evil with a greater one. That's all.
Doris had never been one given to superstition.
Chapter 15
Lakeside Post Assembly Center
Disjunction Lake
Sunset. Third Night. Full Moon.
What Max needed most was a long evening walk. He wanted away from the assembly center, away from the bland dormitories and offices. Their new-wood scent was faded now, so that dust was almost all Max smelled.
It would have been nice to stroll down a street or two of the little civilian town that borrowed its name from the lake. But the press would have spotted his car before it even made the city limits. So Max ordered the driver to the eastern shore of Disjunction Lake. The late-day blue of the water would separate him from the town.
He brought his watch close to his face. It was important he not lose track of time. To be away from the shielding walls of his quarters when the seizures came would be more than humiliating. If witnessed, they would cost him his career. But the sun, though low in the sky, was still high enough above the horizon. He had plenty of time. And he just had to get away, even if it meant only gazing at the town's low buildings from a distance, their shapes fuzzy and indistinct.
Except for some signs -literally, signs- of the Pearl Harbor backlash, it was a pleasant, quaint little town. About a third of the merchants closed their doors to the flux of evacuees allotted temporary day passes. Large, hand-painted cardboard was taped onto the doors -NO JAPS!- like hands thrust defensively in the internees' faces.
But the rest of the shopkeepers were pragmatists. Or opportunists, depending on how one might look at it. Their doors were open to the daily chosen of Tulenar, who shopped the inflated prices under the wary eye of WRA escorts. Since the crises at Tulenar, however, the approved camp residents were a restricted trickle of staff workers.
At least the press corps were making up for some of the lost customers. Max lingered on the simple, low line of buildings a moment more before walking again. Their images shimmered as the red, dusty earth slowly gave up the day's heat, the scraggly foothills almost an extension of the little town's skyline.
He couldn't imagine anyone there doing what was being done to the evacuees, in spite of the prevailing mood. It just didn't seem possible. Not at any time since his arrival at Lakeside did he get the slightest sense of that kind of cunning. Malice, yes. That active, vocal little handful of anti-Japanese had been vulgar enough to applaud Ataki's death, though they didn't seem to have much to say about Mrs. Tamura's disappearance. Even bigots might cringe at atrocities against motherhood, Max thought.
But those people were as artless as they were crude and offensive. They may wish they were responsible but, frankly, Max didn't think they had the wit, let alone the training to execute the attacks. A buzzing in his ears began low, more awareness than sound. But Max ignored it, focusing all the more on his thoughts.
The attacks had been swift, surgical, with few or no witnesses. The attackers hadn't even left footprints. Whoever these people were, they were clever enough to drag the victim right over their tracks. Eventually, of course, the nature of the land itself hid the trail.
Which meant there couldn't be many of them. Or at least they didn't all strike together. No, these crimes were much too slick and professional for the local hate group to pull off ...
Damn, this buzzing!
Max swatted irritably at his ears for a moment, even though he knew from experience there was no stopping the affliction. It came and went of its own accord, just another side effect of his head injury. He managed to calm himself and focused all the harder on his theories.
Even if K.A.F.A. were sharp enough to pull all this off, it would be logistically impossible. They couldn't get far enough, fast enough on foot and there was no place to hide a get-away car. The tower guards would absolutely have seen something, either way. If not when Ataki was taken, then certainly when Mrs. Tamura was, because they were alerted almost immediately.