Two Trains Running - By Andrew H. Vachss Page 0,182
who sent me there.”
“The FBI?”
“Not even them, Tussy. Not even them. I don’t think I’ll ever know who makes things the way they are. And it doesn’t matter. My job is to roll that log across the tracks in time. It doesn’t matter who hires me, because they’re all guilty or they’re all being used by those who are. It’s like being surrounded. Wherever you shoot, you hit the enemy.”
“You came here, to Locke City, to—?”
“Beaumont hired me,” Dett said. “He wanted something done about Dioguardi. And I did that.”
“You were the one?”
“Yes. And I left things set up so that there may be more. A lot more. What I do is like throwing a rock into a pool. The splash doesn’t matter, only the circles it makes.”
“But Mr. Beaumont isn’t a—”
“Yes he is, Tussy,” Dett said. “He’s just smarter than other men like him. He knows you do better being nice to people than stomping all over them. He owns this town, top to bottom. And what he owns, he can deliver. He brought me in here to make sure he could keep his power. But I never really work for any of them, even though I take their money.”
“Walker—”
“That’s not my name,” Dett said. “I don’t have a name, anymore. Just one I use. Even this face, it’s different from the one I started with. There’s people who can do that. There’s people who can do just about anything, if you pay them.”
“You only . . . kill white people? Because of what—”
“No,” Dett said, making a harsh sound in his throat. “I kill the people I get paid to kill. You think it’s only whites that run gangs?”
“But if they’re all criminals . . .” Tussy said, desperately searching.
“I’m not a vigilante,” Dett said. “I’m not out doing justice. I’m just trying to slow that train down. I was given seven years.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I left, Tante Verity told me my time started in that field, when I killed those three men. And it would run for seven years. By then, the first train would be through the crossroads, no matter what. If I’m not already dead, I can start walking my own road, that’s what she said. I’ll be clean then.”
“That’s not for another—”
“About four years,” Dett said.
“It’s too . . . horrible,” Tussy said, sobbing.
Dett sat with his fists clenched, unable to look away.
* * *
1959 October 11 Sunday 02:21
* * *
“Why did you tell me all this, Walker?” Tussy asked, an hour later.
“I had to. Tante Verity told me I could never have a friend, not for seven years. I could never be close to anyone. But she promised I would find a pure woman. And when I did, I could tell her.”
“But how could you possibly—?”
“She said I’d know. And she was right. The second I saw you, I knew.”
“I can’t . . . It’s like it’s too big to even think about, what you said. That’s really you, Walker? A man who goes around killing people?”
“I have to do it,” Dett said. “I just have to. I did my best to explain, but I know how it sounds. Like I’m insane. Chasing ghosts. Trying to slow down some train. I know. But every word I told you is the truth, Tussy.”
“I . . .”
“You know it’s true,” Dett said, relentlessly. “You know I’m true, true for you, or you never would have told me what you did. About your . . . about your life.”
“But . . . what’s going to happen, Walker?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re just going to disappear? And then do another . . . ?”
“Yes. Until the time has passed. Or until I get killed.”
“You sound like it doesn’t matter to you at all.”
“It can’t matter, not until the seven years has passed.”
“What are you saying?” she said, struggling with tears.
“I’ll come back then, Tussy. If I’m alive, I’ll come back.”
“For me?”
“If you would have me.”
“How can you even—? I . . .”
“I’ll just call. On the phone. If you hear my voice, and hang up, I’ll have your answer.”
“Walker . . .”
“I’m gone, Tussy. If you ever see me again, I won’t be Walker Dett. I’ll be . . . I’ll be clean. I thought of just . . . telling you a story. About some secret mission or something. Hoping that you’d wait for me. But if you’re going to have the truth of me when I come back, you had to have the truth of what I