Wheels (36 page)

For Frank Parkland, it was an offhand remark, But to Rollie Knight it
represented the first time that someone in authority had leveled with him,
had criticized the system, told him something honest, something which he
knew to be true, and had done it without bullshit.
Two things resulted. First, Rollie fitted every out-of-sight bolt
correctly, utilizing a developing manual skill and an improved physique
which regular eating now made possible. Second, he began observing
Parkland carefully.
After a while, while not going so far as admiration, he saw the foreman
as a non-bullshitter who treated others squa
r
ely-black or white, kept his
word, and stayed honestly clear of the crap and corruption around him.
There had been few people in Rollie's life of whom be could say, or think,
as much.
Then, as happens when people elevate others beyond the level of human
frailty, the image was destroyed.
Rollie had been asked, once more, if he would
help run numbers in the plant. The approach was by a lean, intense young
black with a scar-marred face, Daddy-o Lester, who worked for stockroom
delivery and was known to combine his work with errands for plant numbers
bankers and the loan men. Rumor tied the scar, which ran the length of
Daddy-o's face, to a knifing after he defaulted on a loan. Now he worked at
the rackets' opposite end. Daddy-o assured Rollie, leaning into the work
station where he had just delivered stock, "These guys like you. But they
get the idea you don't like them, they liable to get rough
.”

Unimpressed, Rollie told him, -Your fat mouth don't scare me none. Beat
it
!
"
Rollie had decided, weeks before, that he would play the numbers, but no
more.
Daddy-o per
sisted, "A man gotta do something
to show he's a man, an' you
ain't
.”

As an afterthought, he added, "Leastways, not lately
.”

More for something to say than with a specific thought, Rollie protested,
"For Cri-sakes, how you fixin' I'd take numbers here, with a foreman
around
.”

Frank Parkland, at that moment, hove into view.
Daddy-o said contemptuously, "Screw that mothal He don't make trouble. He
gets paid off
.”

"You lyin'
.”

"If I show you I ain't, that mean you're in
.”

Rollie moved from the car he had been working on, spat beside the line,
then climbed into the next. For a reason he could not define, uneasy
doubts were stirring. He insisted, "Your word ain't worth nothin'. You
show me first
.”

Next day, Daddy-o did.
Under pretext of a delivery to Rollie Knighes work station he revealed a
grubby, unsealed envelope which he opened sufficiently for Rollie to
see the contents-a slip of
yellow paper and two twenty-doll
ar bills.
"Okay, fella," Daddy-o said. "Now watch
!
"
He walked to the small, stand-up desk which Parkland used-at the moment
unoccupied-and lodged the envelope under a paperweight. Then he
approached the foreman, who was down the line, and said something
briefly. Parkland nodded. Without obvious haste, though not wasting
time, the foreman returned to the desk where he took up the envelope,
glanced briefly under the flap, then thrust it in an inside pocket.
Rollie, watching between intervals of working, needed no explanation.
Nothing could be plainer than that the money was a bribe, a payoff.
Through the rest of that day, Rollie worked less carefully, missing
several bolts entirely and failing to tighten others. Who the hell
cared? He wondered why he was surprised. Didn't everything stink? It
always had. Wasn't everybody on the take in every way? These people; all
people. He remembered the course instructor who persuaded him to endorse
checks, then stole Rollie's and other trainees'money. The instructor was
one; now Parkland was another, so why should Rollie Knight be different?
That night Rollie told May Lou, 'You know what this scumbag world is
made of, baby? Bullshit
! There ain't nuthin’
in this whole wide world but
bullshit.'
Later the same week he began working for the plant numbers gang.

Chapter
fifteen

The portion of northern Michigan which encloses Higgins Lake is described by
the local Chamber of Commerce as "Playtime Country
.”

Adam Trenton, Brett DeLosanto, and others attending Hank Kreisel's cottage
weekend in late May, found the description apt.
The Kreisel "cottage"-in fact, a spacious, luxuriously appointed,
multi
-
bedroomed lodge
was on the west shoreline of Higgins Lake's upper
section. The entire lake forms a shape resembling a peanut or a fetus, the
choice of description depending, perhaps, on the kind of stay a visitor
happens to be having.
Adam located the lake and cottage without difficulty after driving alone
on Saturday morning by way of Pontiac, Saginaw, Bay City, Midland, and
Harrison-most of the two-hundred-mile journey on Interstate 75. Beyond the
cities he found the Michigan countryside lushly green, aspen beginning to
shimmer and the shad-blow in full bloom. The air was sweetly fresh.
Sunshine beamed from a near-cloudless sky. Adam had been depressed on
leaving home but felt his spirits rise as his wheels devoured the journey
northward.
The depression stemmed from an argument with Erica.
Several weeks ago, when he informed her of the invitation to a stag
weekend party, which Brett DeLosanto had conveyed, she merely remarked,
'Well, if they don't want wives, I'll have to find something to do myself,
won't IT' At the time, her reasonableness gave Adam second thoughts about
going at all; he hadn't been keen to begin with, but yielded to Brett's
insistence about wanting Adam to meet Brett's supplier
fri
end, Hank Krei
sel. Finally, Adam decided to leave things the way they
were.
But Erica had obviously not made plans of her own, and this morning
when he got up and began packing a few things, she asked, "Do you
really have to go
.”

When he assured her at this stage he did because he
had promised, she inquired pointedly, "Does 'stag' mean no women or
merely no wives
.”

"No women," he answered, not knowing if it were true or not, though
suspecting not, because he had attended suppliers' weekend parties
before.
"I'll bet
!
" They were in the kitchen by then, Erica brewing coffee and
managing to bang the pot about. "And I suppose there'll be nothing
stronger to drink than milk or lemonade
.”

He snapped back, "Whether there is or isn't, it'll be a damn sight more
congenial than around here
.”

"And who makes it uncongenial
.”

Adam had lost his temper t
h
en. "I'll be goddamned if I know. But if
it's me, I don't seem to have that effect on others apart from you
.”

"Then go to your blasted others
!
" At that, Erica had thrown a coffee
cup at him-fortunately empty-and, also fortunately, he caught it neatly
and set it down unbroken. Or perhaps it wasn't fortunate because he had
started to laugh, which made Erica madder than ever, and she stormed
out, slamming the kitchen door behind her. Thoroughly angry himself by
this time, Adam had flung his few things in the car and driven away.
Twenty miles up the road the whole thing seemed ludicrous, as married
squabbles so often are in retrospect, and Adam knew if he had stayed
home the whole thing would have blown over by midmorning. Later, near
Saginaw, and feeling cheerful because of the kind of day it was, he
tried
to telephone home, but there was no answer. Erica had obviously gone out.
He decided he would call again later.
Hank Kreisel greeted Adam on arrival at the Higgins Lake cottage,
Kreisel managing to look simultaneously trim and casual in immaculately
pressed Bermuda shorts and an Hawaiian shirt, his lean, lanky figure as
militarily erect as always. When they had introduced themselves, Adam
parked his car among seven or eight others-all late models in the luxury
ranges.
Kreisel nodded toward the cars. 'Tew people came last night. Some still
sleeping. More arriving later
.”

He took Adam's overnight bag, then escorted him onto a timbered, covered walkway which extended around the
cottage from the roadway side. The cottage itself was solidly built,
with exterior walls of log siding and a central gable, supported by
massive hand-hewn beams. Down at lake level was a floating dock at which
several boats were moored.
Adam said, "I like your place, Hank
.”

"Thanks. Not bad, I guess. Didn't build it, though. Bought it from the
guy who did. He poured in too much dough, then needed cash
.”

Kreisel
gave a twisted grin. "Don't we all
.”

They stopped at a door, one of several opening onto the walkway. The
parts manufacturer strode in, preceding Adam. Directly inside was a
bedroom in which polished woodwork gleamed. In a fireplace, facing a
double bed, a log fire was laid.
“Sur
e glad of that. Can get cold at night," Kreisel said. He crossed to
a window. "Gave you a room with a view
.”

You sure did
.”

Standing beside his host Adam could see the bright clear
waters of the lake, superbly blue, shading to green near the sandy
shoreline. The Higgins Lake location was
in rolling bills-the last few miles of journey bad been a steady climb-and
around cottage and lake were magnificent stands of jack pines, spruce,
balsam, tamarack, yellow pine, and birch. Judging by the panoramic view,
Adam guessed he was being given the best bedroom. He wondered why. He was
also curious about the other guests.
"When you're ready," Hank Kreisel announced, "bar's open. So's the
kitchen. Don't have meals here. Just drinks and food twenty-four hours.
Anything else can be arranged
.”

He gave the twisted grin once more as he
opened a door on the opposite side of the room from where they had
entered. "There's two doors in 'n out-this and the other. Both lock. Makes
for private coming and going
.”

"Thanks. If I need to, I'll remember
.”

When the other had gone, Adam unpacked the few things he had brought and,
soon after, followed his host through the second door. It opened, lie
discovered, onto a narrow gallery above a central living area designed and
furnished in hunting lodge style. The gallery extended around the living
room and connected with a series of stone slab steps which, in turn,
formed part of an immense rock fireplace. Adam descended the steps. The
ha
ing area was unoccupied and he headed for a buzz of voices outside.
He emerged onto a spacious sun deck high above the lake. People, in a
group, had been talking; now, one voice raised above others argued
heatedly, "So help me, you people in this industry are acting more and
more like nervous Nellies. You've gotten too damn sensitive to criticism
and too defensive, You're encouraging the exhibitionists, making like
they're big time sages instead of publicity hounds who want their names
in papers and on television. Look at your annual meetings
.
Nowadays
they're circuses. Some nut buys one
share of company stock, then tells off the chairman of the board who
stands there and takes it. It's like letting a single voter, any voter,
go to Washington and sound off on the Senate floor
.”