"I noticed that," said Kurtz. "The motor in the center of the carousel has been worked on as well. And did you notice the new bulbs on the wheel?"
Rigby walked around the base of the Ferris wheel. "Weird. Most of them are broken or missing, but it looks like someone is replacing what? one out of ten of the lights?"
"And there are newer electrical cables in the weeds as well," said Kurtz. He pointed to a flat area of battered buildings about a hundred feet up the midway road. "I think they all head that way."
They followed the heavy electrical cable from the Ferris wheel toward the tumbledown funhouse complex. Rigby pointed out several places where the new cable had been covered over with humus or dirt as if for concealment.
To the rear of the rotting funhouse, all but hidden by the peeling facades and trees behind it, someone had fashioned a shack out of new lumber. The sides were still unfinished, but the roof was shingled and plastic kept the weather out. The top of the funhouse facade had bent backwards here, and a huge, inverted clown face hung over the shack and almost touched the small porch. On that porch, covered with plastic wrapped tightly by bungee cords, was an oversized new gasoline-powered electrical generator. Jerry cans of gasoline were lined up nearby.
Rigby checked out the shack and pointed to several covered toolboxes. She lifted a large, yellow power naildriverthe completely portable kind with its massive magazine of nails.
"You think it works?" she asked, holding the heavy thing in both of her pale hands.
"One way to find out," said Kurtz.
Rigby aimed back into the shack and squeezed the trigger.
BWAP . The five-inch nail ripped through the plastic sheeting and embedded itself in the plywood wall ten feet farther in.
"It works," said Rigby.
They spent some time in the shackfound nothing more personal than a moldy cot in the back minus any beddingand then strolled down the hill to the center of the overgrown midway.
"The newspaper articles Arlene found said that there was a kiddie-locomotive up here somewhere," said Kurtz.
"We'll find it later," said Rigby. She dropped onto a lush patch of grass near the carousel, just where the hill began to rise again, and patted the grass next to her. "Sit down a minute, Joe."
He sat four feet from her and looked out through the trees at the view of the Allegheny River and the town of Neola a mile or so below them to the north. With the remaining fall foliage in the hills surrounding the community and a couple of white church spires visible, Neola looked more like some quaint New England village than a raw, Western New York industrial town.
"Let's talk a minute," said Rigby.
"All right," said Kurtz. "Tell me how it is that the DEA, FBI, AFT and other agencies have suspected the Major and SEATCO of being part of a heroin ring for years and yet the Major's still a free man and Neola still seems to be getting money from the heroin trade? Why haven't the alphabets been all over this place like hair on a gorilla?"
"I didn't mean talk about that ."
"Answer the question, Rig."
She looked out and down at the town. "I don't know, Joe. Paul didn't tell me everything about the DEA briefing."
"But you think Kemper knows."
"Maybe."
Kurtz shook his head. "What the hell keeps law enforcement off a heroin ring, for fuck's sake?" He looked back at Rigby King. "Some sort of national security thing?"
The sun had peeked out and was illuminating their part of the hillside now, making the still-green grass leap out from the dull, autumn background in vibrant color. Rigby took off her corduroy jacket, despite the cold breeze blowing in. The press of her nipples was visible even through the thick, pink material of the Oxford cloth shirt. "I don't know, Joe. I think the feds and feebies have been wise to the Major since long before nine-eleven. Can we talk about what I want to talk about?"
Kurtz looked away from her again, squinting through his Ray Charles sunglasses at Neola now glowing white in the moving shafts of October sunlight. "CIA?" he said. "Some sort of quid pro quo bullshit between them and the Major's network? Arlene's clipped articles said that this SEATCO also traded with Syria and places like that, as well as with Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand"
"Joe," said Rigby. She scooted closer, grabbed his upper arm and squeezed it painfully.
Kurtz looked at her.
"Listen to me, Joe. Please ."
Kurtz removed her fingers from his arm. "What?"
"I don't give a shit about SEATCO or this Major or any of the rest of this. I care about you."
Kurtz looked at her. He was still holding her wrist. He let it go.
"You're lost, Joe." Rigby's large brown eyes seemed darker than usual.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you . You're lost. Maybe you lost yourself in Attica. Maybe beforebut I doubt that, not with Sam in your life. It's probably when she was killed that you"
"Rigby," Kurtz said coldly, "maybe you'd better shut up."
She shook her head. "I know why you're here, Joe." She jerked her head toward the Ferris wheel, weeds, woods, and shifting clouds. The sunlight still fell on them, but the shadows were moving faster up, around and over the hill. "You think that the parole officerO'Toolewas your client. She showed you the photographs of this place. She asked if you knew where this place was. You're acting like she hired you, Joe. You're not only trying to solve her shootingand yoursbut solve everything ."