Set the Night on Fire (24 page)

O
nce they homed in on the target, the rest was surprisingly easy. The hard part had been the decision—they’d discussed it for weeks, the conversation at times turbulent. Dar was dead set against it, but Payton and Teddy were relentless. Given the police state they lived in, they were compelled to make a statement. The target they had chosen, a symbol of rampant materialism, was appropriate.

Payton took pains to say no one would be hurt. It was the establishment they were striking against. He’d cased the place. After midnight, it went dark. No one was there. Bricks and mortar were the objective, not people. Workers were the oppressed victims. In a way, they would be releasing those workers from bondage. Symbolically. “We’ve tried everything else, and it hasn’t worked,” Payton said. “An armed attack against the imperialist state is the only choice left. We've got to carry this through.”

For his part, Dar was desperate to do something—anything—to reclaim his sense of purpose. Watching the sun rise over Lake Michigan, after yet another night of Payton’s rhetoric, he reluctantly agreed. It would be easier to shake up a complacent nation than to face his own limitations.

Payton ripped off a copy of
The Anarchist Cookbook
from an alternative bookstore. The first step, he said, was to secure a supply. Ammonium nitrate powder was the ticket—it was commonly used by farmers as fertilizer. When combined with fuel oil, it made an excellent explosive. Plus, it was widely available and cheap. He and Teddy bought large amounts from rural vendors, paying cash up front.

They couldn’t take delivery, however, until they had something to haul it in, so the next step was to find a truck or van. Payton decided they should steal a VW van. They’d have more choices in Madison, a center for students and hippie culture, so they cased the streets around Mifflin until they found one parked on the street. They returned at three in the morning, and Payton hot-wired it, a skill he’d picked up as a teenager. “Like taking candy from a baby,” he joked as they drove off.

The next morning Teddy insisted they file off the van’s Vehicle Identification Number.

“Why?” Payton asked. “The van’ll be totaled.”

“I just think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s stupid. So what if they figure out it’s stolen? They can’t trace it to us.”

“I just want to be on the safe side.” When Payton frowned, Teddy explained. “Look. I’m from Madison. I just don’t want anything . . . well, you just never know. Humor me, okay?”

Payton shrugged. “Fuck it, man. Do your thing. But you’ll have to buy some shit to take it off with. And make sure you’re disguised when you go to the store. You don’t want anyone remembering you.”

Teddy nodded. That afternoon he came back with a screwdriver and a pack of razor blades. Opening the driver’s-side door, he located the VIN on what looked like a decal attached to a strip of metal at the bottom of the doorjamb. Rivets on both ends held it down. Dar watched as Teddy pulled out a blade and started sawing and scraping the decal.

“It should come right off.” Teddy frowned. “How come it’s not?”

“You’re trying to cut through metal. Seems to me you might need a hammer and a cold chisel,” Dar said.

“No.” Teddy shook his head. “I’m just trying to get the decal off the metal strip.”

“You have to take off the whole piece, asshole,” Payton said. “Try the rivets.”

“Yeah, okay. But it’s not . . . Shit!” He jerked his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Fuck it! I sliced through my thumb.”

Dar looked over. Blood was oozing from Teddy’s left thumb. A few drops landed on the doorjamb.

“Goddamnit!”

“I warned you,” Payton said.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Dar said.

“To you, maybe,” Teddy said.

Dar watched the blood drip onto the VIN decal. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

Teddy gave Dar the finger and sucked his thumb.

Payton laughed. “If you could see yourselves . . . ”

Teddy went back to work on the VIN with no more success. “The fucking thing won’t come off.”

“Shit. You’re useless.” Payton grabbed the screwdriver and pried up the rivets. A second later, he held up the bloody decal. “Satisfied?”

Teddy eyed him, then nodded. “You’re going to get rid of that, aren’t you?”

Payton slipped it into his pocket.

“I mean, torch it or something?”

“You think I’m a retard?”

Teddy kept his mouth shut.

After they picked up the ANFO and loaded it into the van, Payton said, “Okay. One more step and we’re ready to rock and roll.”

“What’s that?” Dar asked.

“We need us some nitromethane.”

“What? Why?”

“For a little extra kick.” Payton grinned.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

Payton snorted. “Figures.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Teddy asked.

“You can get it at any racing parts store. And yes, I know what I’m doing. You assholes are really turning out to be pansies, you know?”

T
he intercom buzzed around ten the next morning. Rain answered it. “Yes?”

“We want to talk to Alixandra Kerr,” a man demanded.

“And you are?”

“Special Agents Dalton and Stevens. FBI.”

Rain spun around. “What do we do?”

Casey’s heart started to pump like a jackhammer. A year ago he—or Dar or Payton—would have told the pigs to take a hike, leave them alone. But now he spread his hands. Some hero.

It was Alix who went to the intercom. “Of course. Come up.”

Casey watched Alix open the door to two men in gray suits, narrow ties, and the shortest hair he’d seen in a long time. One was tall and skinny, the other tall and burly. Alix motioned them to the sofa.

The skinny man introduced himself as Dalton. “Which of you is Alixandra Kerr?”

Alix rested her hands on her stomach. “I am.”

He gazed at her belly in surprise.

Casey wanted to ask how they’d found out where she lived. Then he realized anyone could have told them: Bobby, the Moon Palace, even someone at
The Seed
. After almost two years, they were known in the neighborhood.

“What can I do for you?” Alix asked placidly, as if they were having tea.

“We’re following up on some information that came our way.” His eyes swept over them. “We want to talk to you one at a time.”

Rain spoke up. “About what?”

“You’ll see.”

“Hold it. It’s our right to know. So we know if we want to take the Fifth.”

“Does that mean you have something to hide?” the agent asked.

“You know that’s not the way it works.”

Rain was brave, Casey thought. He didn’t have the guts.

The agent stared at Rain, his expression blank. “Tell you what. If this is a problem, we can always go downtown and talk.”

That was the quid pro quo, Casey thought. Spill your guts now and we won’t run you in. Great choice.

“All right.” Alix sat and folded her hands. “Rain, you and Casey wait in the bedroom.”

Rain and Casey got up and shuffled into Rain’s bedroom. His nerves were jangling. Rain closed the door.

“Shit,” Rain groaned. “What’s going on? What have we done?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”  Casey put his ear against the door. He heard the murmur of questions being asked, Alix calmly providing answers. He stared at a spidery crack in the wall. How could Alix be so cool? She had to be under enormous pressure.

Fifteen minutes later, Alix came in and gestured to Casey. “Your turn.”

He ran his tongue around his lips.

“Don’t worry,” Alix said. “It’s about Payton. And Dar. Just tell them the truth.”

When Casey went into the living room, Dalton was on the couch. Stevens was perched on the windowsill, in Casey’s favorite spot. Dalton asked Casey if he had a job.

Casey said, “At the Moon Palace. A few blocks from here.”

“Is there someone who can verify that?”

“My boss, Mrs. Lee.” He gave them her number.

“How long have you known Dar Gantner?” Dalton asked.

“About three years.”

“Where did you meet?”

“We were freshmen together at Michigan.”

Dalton nodded and continued to ask questions about Dar—what kind of person he was, how committed was he to the Movement, was he prone to violence.

“Dar is the least violent person I’ve ever met,” Casey answered. “He lost his father when he was a teenager, and I think it gave him a deep respect—almost a reverence—for human life. He would never be violent.” He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. The truth was he hadn’t seen or talked to Dar in months. Dar was a stranger to him now. But he wouldn’t share that with the FBI.

“But Gantner was active in anti-war activities at Michigan. As were you.”

They’d done their homework. “But when we . . . I mean . . . Dar met Alix, he pretty much dropped out of the political scene. His relationship with Alix was more important.”

“A relationship her father strongly disapproved of,” Stevens cut in.

Of course. They’d talked to her father before coming. “I don’t know anything about that. But I do know that Alix and Dar were very much in love. She’s going to have his children.”

“Is that so?” Dalton asked.

Casey bit his lip. He shouldn’t have given that up. They’d report back to her father. Dalton went on, “Tell me about Eric Payton.”

“Payton talked big,” he admitted, “but underneath, I think it was just that. Talk.”

The agents grilled him about Payton, then started in on Alix. How did Casey know she wasn’t political? Didn’t she harbor a grudge against her father because of her father’s disapproval? Wasn’t her “peace and love” demeanor just a cover for a rebellious nature?

“Absolutely not. Alix was—is—an artist. She makes jewelry. Things of beauty. She would never approve of anything violent or destructive.”

“Didn’t you have an Indian boy living with you?”

Casey swallowed. They knew everything. “Yes. He died.”

“How?”

“He had TB.”

Dalton nodded, his face about as expressive as a clock. Then, “What about the other girl? The one who takes pictures for
The Seed
?”

As Casey answered questions about Rain, Dalton scribbled on a notepad. They’d clearly known the answers to most of their questions before they came. Why pretend? What did they want? Casey’s stomach knotted.

“Back to the men . . . ,” Dalton went on, “you said they moved out. When did they leave? Where did they go?”

“In January. I don’t know where.”

“Did they ever talk of any places, refuges you can recall? Somewhere in Wisconsin, perhaps?”

Casey shook his head.

“And you’re sure you have no idea where they are or what they’re planning?”

“Do you?” Casey cocked his head.

The agent kept his mouth shut, but ran his hand up and down the sleeve of his jacket. Doubt or frustration, Casey wondered. Maybe both. “All right. Send in the other girl.”

Casey went back to the bedroom. “We’re screwed. They think Payton and Teddy and Dar are planning something. And they think we know what it is.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rain moaned.

“Both of you calm down, okay?” Alix said. “I don’t think they know anything. Maybe a rumor here or there. They’re just fishing.”

But Rain didn’t look convinced. She looked haunted. Exactly the way Casey felt.

“Just tell them the truth,” Alix repeated.

Rain squeezed her eyes shut, then trudged into the other room.

Casey and Alix sat on Rain’s bed, trying unsuccessfully to overhear her conversation with the agents. Ten minutes later there were footsteps, and Rain came back in.

“They want the photos I took of everyone at the Coliseum way back when. And at Bobby’s when the men landed on the moon.”

Alix gave her the briefest of nods. “Hand them over. They need to think you’re cooperating fully.”

Casey stared at Alix, astonished at her composure. No. Not just composure. Alix was radiating power. Had she been this way all along and he just hadn’t seen it? Or was it something she’d kept bottled up until now? For the first time since he’d known her, he saw how formidable she was.

Rain opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled out a manila envelope. She slid it under her arm and went out. A moment later, she called out, “They want you to come back now.”

Casey followed Alix back into the living room. He stood next to Stevens while the agents studied Rain’s photos. Stevens’ jaw twitched when he saw a shot of Teddy. It was a tiny gesture, but Casey caught it.

Dalton looked up. “Did any of your roommates have an interest in race cars?”

“You mean like stock cars?” Casey asked.

“Any type of automobile racing.”

“Not that I know of,” Casey said. “No one mentioned it.”

“Do you know what ammonium nitrate is?”

They exchanged glances. Casey did have an idea, but Alix shook her head. He followed suit.

They asked a few more questions, then, as unexpectedly as they’d come, they left.

Rain sagged against the door and ran a hand through her ash-blond hair.

Alix flicked her hand. “You did fine. We all did.”

“No, we didn’t,” Casey said. “We folded like an accordion.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Alix replied.

“Payton wouldn’t have told them anything.”

“You don’ t know that.” Alix’s expression softened. “And you’re not Payton.”

“I want to know what’s going on. What are they up to? Dar and Payton and Teddy,” Rain said.

Casey said, “I want to know what the feds are up to. They didn’t show up ’cause they had nothing better to do. They suspect something.”

Rain’s eyes held a far-away expression. “Did you notice how that agent—Stevens—reacted to the picture of Teddy?”

Casey nodded. “Almost as if they recognized him.”

“They know him—I’d stake my life on it.” Rain straightened up. “And now that I think about it, they never really asked any questions about Teddy. They were focused on Dar and Payton.”

“Same here,” Casey said. They exchanged glances.

“It’s Teddy,” Rain said. “I told you he was an informant.”

“But who would he be informing on?” Casey asked. “And about what? I work at a Chinese restaurant. You take pictures for
The Seed
. Alix makes jewelry.”

“Not us.” Rain slid her eyes to Alix. “It’s something else. Something big.”

Casey hesitated. “Um, I didn’t tell the truth about something.”

“What?”

“Ammonium nitrate. You use it when you’re building a bomb. An ANFO bomb. They used to talk about it on campus at Michigan. The last resort. That kind of thing.”  

“Oh, god.” Rain pulled on her hair. “What do we do?”

Alix had been standing next to the couch, still composed. But she was pale. And quiet. Too quiet. A strange expression came across her face. She started to say something, then suddenly cried out. Clutching her belly, she staggered and fell on the couch.

“What’s the matter?” When she didn’t answer, Rain shouted, “Alix?”

“Oh, god.” Alix gasped. “I think the babies are coming.”