Chapter 45

We got to Casper and found the best men’s store by early afternoon. We got the guys fitted out in dark blue suits that Linc said would be perfect. With an appropriate ‘incentive payment’ from my Visa card, they promised delivery by next Monday.

While they were getting measured, Linc accompanied me to an upscale woman’s store. I tried on a yellow business suit. Linc thought it would be fine. I thought I looked like a banana. I selected a beautiful cotton skirt and jacket combo in coral, with a silk blouse that had a patterned pale coral design. I didn’t recognize the label, but it was plenty good enough for Dick Cheney.

“I thought I said that red would be too much,” Linc objected.

“Right. This is coral, not red,” said I.

“Coral is not a color, it’s a living thing that grows in the ocean. Colors are what you can see in the rainbow,” he patiently explained. “You know: ROYGBIV.” He pronounced it as a word: roy-gee-biv.

I looked at the two saleswomen nearby, they had an ‘understanding smile.’ “I’ll take these with two pair of pantyhose, and a pair of shoes with modest heels. You can dye them to match, yes?” They nodded. “Good. I’ll pick them up on Monday.” I walked over to select a nude-colored bra and two pair of matching panties. “I’ll take the rest today.” I gave them my Visa, too.

Several bags completed my shopping. Linc said, “That suit wasn’t red?”

“No,” I said, “It’s coral. And ‘coral’ is a color too, not just an aquatic life form. The yellow thing made me look like a banana.”

“Okay,” he said. I heard him mumble, “But that outfit is red.”

We stopped at a local eatery for eats – I had a three-foot cheese steak sub sandwich, about double the size of the fellas’. We were back on the road by four. We got back to Dark Wolf’s in time for a light supper of stir fry veggies. The three guys with me weren’t hungry, but that didn’t stop me. Hey! Spending several hundred dollars on clothes can cause an appetite.

Monday rolled around and our little band was all dressed with nowhere to go. Cheney wasn’t supposed to arrive until after lunch on Tuesday.

I was all keyed up, but everybody else was calm. This was an important meeting because of what was supposed to happen at the turn of the millennium. Nobody knew anything about that, of course, except me and Red.

So we found a hotel with three rooms adjacent. We dropped off our clothes and went out to see the sights.

[Lexi?]

Red, you know I can always hear you.

[Tomorrow’s newspaper just changed again.]

Don’t tell me Cheney isn’t coming.

[No, nothing like that. Apparently, he is accosted by a man with a gun just after he gives his speech. And the head of security for a Shoshone woman foils the attack.]

WHAT? I’ve got to tell Linc right away!

[I think not. It’s better if you tell him a few seconds beforehand. Then he can be close enough to deal with the situation, but if he has foreknowledge ... well, how could he explain that?]

Lemme think.

Bear nudged me in the side. “Hey, Lexi. There’s a Fort Caspar Museum. That’s C.A.S.P.A.R. With an A. I guess they changed the spelling somewhere along the way.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Guess so.”

God! Not a good time to discuss history trivia. Uh ... What does a politician do after a speech? Greets the people who came to hear him. Right? Are there any details about the gunman?

[Just that he’s Marine in uniform. Upon investigation, Lance Corporal Jackson was found to have a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He was in the 3^rd of the 26^th. He lost his leg at Khe Sanh. The security man – that’s Linc – talked him down and he was placed in custody, but was taken to the psyche ward at the VA hospital.]

Okay. Okay.

I pleaded tiredness and went back to the hotel. The guys – all three of them – followed along like I was Mrs. Mallard leading a parade of ducklings. Once my ducklings were ensconced in their rooms, I laid out my clothes for tomorrow, and laid down on the bed.

Red, play the theta recording for me. I need to think.

... ...

I was up early. After all, I’d slept through dinner and by 7:00 a.m. I was HUNGRY. I threw on some jeans and a top and opened the door. Surprise! Linc was sitting in a chair in front of my door, and he was asleep. I couldn’t get past him, so I gently tapped his shoulder.

“Linc,” I whispered.

“I’m awake. You don’t have to shout. Is it breakfast time already?” He got up. He was wearing a windbreaker on top of his regular shirt.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

“No, but I’m armed. I don’t want to scare the wait staff.” He lifted the back of his jacket and showed me his gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It could have been his ‘weapon’ as he liked to call it. I thought it was a gun.

I ducked back into the room and wrote a note for Bear and Rock. “We’re downstairs having breakfast.” I slid the note under the door but before we could get very far down the hall, Bear opened the door.

“We’re up. Wait a sec while dozey puts his pants on,” he said. “Come on, Rock, it’s feeding time.”

Rock looked like he’d been ‘rode hard and put up wet,’ as I’d heard it said in life #1. He was combing his hair with his fingers as we headed for the elevators.

“Long night watching ‘The Devil in Miss Jones,’ guys?” Linc casually asked.

“Uhh,” Bear mumbled.

“Yeah. We missed some of the start so we watched it again.” Rock didn’t know what he’d said.

“It’s all right. I’ll put it on the expense account as a ‘training film,’” Linc deadpanned.

“Oh, uhh ... I mean,” said Rock. Bear just backhanded him across the chest.

“That Georgina Spelvin is some actress, let me tell ya.” Linc wouldn’t let up on the two young Indians, who’d probably never seen a porn flick before. “She really ... uhm ... puts out a great performance. Wouldn’t ya say?”

“All right. That’s enough of that,” I said loud enough for them all to hear. The elevator opened then, and an older couple were onboard already. The man was tall, thin, and bald. The lady was shorter than I was, gray haired, and carried a huge purse. I got in and walked to the unoccupied rear corner. Linc checked and, seeing that ‘Lobby’ was already illuminated, he pushed the button again.

“Can’t ever be too sure with these new-fangled machines,” he said to the lady.

“I think it makes ‘em go faster, when you push it again,” she laughed.

We broke our fast. I had eggs benedict, which I hadn’t had since Las Vegas in life #1. The boys wanted pancakes, but Linc vetoed that idea. “We’re going to be on the job this afternoon. Nothing too heavy for breakfast. Some protein with protein and juice. Can’t have you falling asleep this afternoon.” He followed his own advice with some eggs, bacon and toast.

When we got up to return to our rooms, I held Linc back a second. “Red said there may be trouble this afternoon. Not for me,” I quickly added. “But for Cheney. That’s all for now.”

He nodded and did a quick look around, like he wasn’t sure about Red’s timing, or identification of the target. He lightly grabbed my elbow and walked us a bit faster.

We joined up in my room and just generally watched TV until 11:30. We went to our separate rooms, and got dressed. By noon, we were at the venue: the Rotary Club’s hall. “Let’s go over it one more time,” said Linc. “You two are watching the surrounding crowd, not Lexi. You’re behind her at about four and eight o’clock. You see trouble, you grab Lexi and take her down. Do NOT go for the source of the trouble. Right?” They nodded.

Linc was a step in front of me. I felt safe. We found seats in front of the podium. Linc was approached by Cheney’s security man. They sniffed around each other a bit. Cheney’s man gestured and Linc pulled out his automatic from under his left armpit. He ejected the magazine, and ejected the round in the chamber, catching it in his right hand. Cheney’s man gestured again and Linc flipped each and every bullet from the magazine. When it was empty, he gestured again, and Linc shook his head ‘no.’ The bullets and empty magazine went into the left pocket of his suit jacket. The gun was reholstered.

He sat on the chair beside me, between Rock and me. Bear was on the right side. “Fuckin’ meathead,” he mumbled. “I’d fire him in five seconds.”

“Why? What did he do wrong?” I asked.

“He didn’t even frisk me. Or he’d have found the knife on my right hip, not to mention the extra magazine in my other pocket.” He reached into his pants pocket, and showed me the backup magazine he palmed. He reached to his left armpit, under the jacket, and the hidden weapon there. He did a little shift when Cheney’s man wasn’t looking, and returned his now-empty hand to his lap. I could hear a slight click every so often coming from his left suit pocket. Slowly, he was reloading the magazine that was empty a few minutes ago.