and drawing something in the foggy condensate that had appeared on the windshield of Trigger's van as a result of a summer storm fifteen months ago-cold rain on a hot day.
"Ralph, you 'member the scarf Deepneau was wearin dat day?
White, wit some kind of red marks on it?"
"Yes, I remember," Ralph said. Cuntlicker, Ed had told the heavyset guy. Fucked your mother and licked her cunt. And yes, he remembered the scarf-of course he did. But the red thing hadn't been just marks or a splotch or a meaningless bit of pattern; it had been an ideogram or ideograms. The sudden sinking in the pit of his stomach told Ralph that Trigger could quit rummaging through his old business cards right now. He knew what this was about. He knew.
"Was you in da war, Ralph?" Trigger asked. "The big one? Number Two?"
"In a way, I guess," Ralph said. "I fought most of it in Texas.
I went overseas in early '45, but I was rear-echelon all the way."
Trigger nodded. "Dat means Europe," he said. "Wasn't no rearechelon in the Pacific, not by the end."
"England," Ralph said. "Then Germany."
Trigger was still nodding, pleased. "If you'd been in the Pacific, you woulda known the stuff on that scarf wasn't Chinese."
"It was Japanese, wasn't it? Wasn't it, Trig?"
Trigger nodded. In one hand he held a business card plucked from among many. On the blank side, Ralph saw a rough approximation of the double symbol they had seen on Ed's scarf, the double symbol he himself had drawn in the windshield mist.
"What are you talking about?" Lois asked, now sounding not impatient but just plain scared.
"I should have known," Ralph heard himself say in a faint, horrified voice. "I still should have known."
"Known what?" She grabbed his shoulder and shook it. "Known what?"
He didn't answer. Feeling like a man in a dream, he reached out and took the card. Trigger Vachon was no longer smiling, and his dark eyes studied Ralph's face with grave consideration. "I copied it before it could melt off a da windshield," Trigger said, "cause I knew I seen it before, and by the time I got home dat night, I knew where.
My big brother, Marcel, fought da las year of the war in the Pacific.
One of the tings he brought back was a scarf with dat same two marks on it, in dat same red. I ast him, 'us to be sure, and he wrote it on dat card." Trigger pointed to the card Ralph was holding between his fingers. "I meant to tell you as soon as I saw you again, only I forgot until today. I was glad I finally remembered, but looking at you now, I guess it woulda been better if I'd stayed forgetful."
"No, it's okay."
Lois took the card from him. "What is it? What does it mean?"
"Tell you later." Ralph reached for the gearshift. His heart felt like a stone in his chest. Lois was looking at the symbols on the blank side of the card, allowing Ralph to see the printed side.
R. H. FOSTER, WELLS amp; DRY-WALLS, it said. Below this, Trigger's big brother had printed a single word in black capital letters.
KAMIKAZE.
Part III THE CRIMSON KING CHAPTER 20
We are old-timers, each of us holds a locked razor.
-Robert Lowel,l "Walking in the Blue"
CHAPTER 20
There was only one conversational exchange between them as the Oldsmobile rolled up Hospital Drive, and it was a brief one. "Ralph?" He glanced over at her, then quickly back at the road. That clacking sound under the hood had begun again, but Lois hadn't mentioned it yet. He hoped she wasn't going to do so now. "I think I know where he is. Ed, I mean. I was pretty sure, even up on the roof, that I recognized that ramshackle old building they showed us."
"What is it? And where?"
"It's an airplane garage. A whatdoyoucallit. Hangar."
"Oh my God," Ralph said. "Coastal Air, on the Bar Harbor Road? "Lois nodded. "They have charter flights, seaplane rides, things like that.
One Saturday when we were out for a drive, Mr. Chasse went in and asked a man who worked there how much he'd charge to take us for a sightseeing hop over the islands.
The man said forty dollars, which was much more than we could have afforded to spend on something like that, and in the summer I'm sure the man would've stuck to his guns, but it was only April, and Mr. Chasse was able to dicker him down to twenty. I thought