Page 67 of Head Room
“Wearing camouflage, you said,” Yvette prompted.
“That’s right.And Frank said he was one of those guys.”He jerked his head in a westerly direction.“Up there.”
I barely prevented myself from rolling my eyes.“Do you know where to find them?The vets.Where they stay.”
“Why would I want to find them?”
“She means could you tell her where to find them,” Yvette said.“Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want them for?”he demanded of me, then didn’t give me a chance to respond.“There are men deep in those woods, other woods, who’ve been off the grid as you fancy types say—”
I’d been right about that phrase rankling.
“—longer’n you’ve been alive.Came back from this war or that one and didn’t want another thing to do with what liars call civilization.They know all there is to know about staying hidden.”
Ignoring the rest, I reverted to his question at the start of that speech.“I’d like to talk to them.”
“Won’t get nothing out of them and that’s if you even see them.”
Tom spoke before I had a chance to.“She’ll do fine.”
Some covet the Nobel Peace Prize — with the emphasis on prize over peace — but that endorsement by Tom topped any other accolade in my book.
“They don’t like strangers.”
Yvette’s nod backed up Hiram’s assessment.
“They’ll be fine, too.”Tom added to me, “You’ll take Shadow.”
My first instinct was to argue that I didn’t need a four-legged protector.Second thought was that Tom had his reasons and I trusted they were good.
“Who the hell is Shadow?”
“Her dog,” Yvette said.
It still amazed me the things people in this county knew about each other.Except Hiram Poppinger, apparently.
“What do you think happened to Frank Jardos?”I asked.
His face darkened.“I told him and told him not to use that Denver airport.If he had to use them airplanes, go to Billings.Not saying it’s safe for sure, but leastwise don’t know for sure it’s dangerous like Denver.”
Refusing to let the non sequitur throw me off, I searched my memory for data about Denver International having a poor safety record.What came to mind, instead, were airports where the flat-land-to-danger ratio didn’t favor the traveler, especially a couple in the Alps and a couple more that were dots in the ocean.
“Dangerous from crashes?”
“Not in the air.Under the ground,” he said ominously.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hiram Poppinger couldnot be induced to explain more lucidly.I promised myself I’d share this pain with the others as soon as possible, then asked a few more questions, with even less gain.
Unless you counted that Frank Jardos was an all right guy, if you had to have somebody around.
That he talked about his Army days, but not so much it would drive you ’round the bend.
That he hadn’t been himself after his wife died, but it wasn’t reasonable — of me, he made clear — to expect somebody to be anything else and besides that, he was better and better as time went by, so what the hell was I getting at.
