Macovich left the mansion and lit up a Salem Light as he walked around Capitol Square, not especially eager to have a word with the press secretary about this or anything else. That son of a bitch Major Trader couldn't be trusted, and everybody knew it except the governor. Wooo, Macovich worried from inside his cloud of smoke. If the state police started picking on those Tangier people, there was going to be nothing but trouble.
"Let me ask you something," Macovich asked as he walked into Trader's office. "You ever been to Tangier Island or even met a Tangierian?"
"It's not the sort of place I would visit." Trader was perched over his keyboard and eating a chili dog that one of his assistants had brought him for a snack. "How many times do I have to tell you to take your sunglasses off when you're inside a building or it's after dark? I've worked very hard to change the image of all you troopers so the public doesn't perceive you as a bunch of thick-headed brutes." He gobbled up half of the hotdog in one mouthful and dribbled mustard on his stained, unfashionable tie. "Just because you're plainclothes EPU and fly around in helicopters doesn't mean you can go against protocol and make everybody look bad."
"Wooo, we're gonna look bad, all right," Macovich retorted, leaving his sunglasses on. "We go roaring into that island with our big helicopters and start handing out speeding tickets, those people are gonna do something about it."
"I believe that would be a mistake." Trader wiped his flabby lips with a greasy napkin and strategized quickly. The governor had yet to inform him that the first speed traps would be set on Tangier Island, but he wasn't about to let Macovich sense as much. "We'll lock every one of them in jail," he added as if he had already given much thought to the consequences should the Islanders rebel.
"Oh, now that's a good one, Mister Press Secretary," Macovich said, sarcastically. "Let's lock up the entire island of fishermen, women, and children. Not to mention all the old folks. We've got highway pirates running around loose out there beating the shit out of innocent truck drivers and smuggling dope into Canada, but we gonna make sure none of them Tangierians go too fast in their golf carts."
Trader licked his fingers and wiped them on his voluminous trousers. "I wouldn't push my luck, if I were you," he snipped. "Not after you cheated at pool the other night. Naughty, naughty."
"I didn't cheat!" Macovich bellowed so loudly that other state employees poked their heads out of offices up and down the hall.
"The First Family certainly thinks you did, and it's just fortunate for you that the governor has more important matters on his mind," Trader retorted haughtily. "I'd hate to be the one who reminds him that you aren't very popular in the mansion these days. You certainly wouldn't be the first EPU trooper to find himself back in uniform, riding around in a car all day and night."
"Well, Superintendent Hammer ain't gonna do that to me, 'cause then who's gonna fly the governor's old, blind ass around, huh? Who's gonna fly the First Family's lazy big asses around, huh?"
"Would you please lower your voice?" Trader raised his.
Macovich stepped closer to the faux colonial desk, his sunglasses glaring at Trader. "In case you've forgotten," Macovich snarled, "we're down to two helicopter pilots 'cause First Lady Crimm runs 'em all off." Macovich turned to walk out, then spun back around. "And guess what else, Trader? Life ain't no big plantation anymore, and one of these days you're gonna wake up and find yourself smack in the goddamn middle of Gone With the Wind!"
Unique First had never seen Gone With the Wind or read the novel, but she could relate to the expression. She had always been able to disappear without a trace, and as a child had discovered that if she rearranged her molecules while trespassing or breaking into her neighbors' homes, she would become invisible. She followed the cobblestone of Shockhoe Slip and slipped inside Tobacco Company, an upscale restaurant and bar in a renovated old tobacco warehouse not far from the river. Unique sat near the piano and ordered a beer and began to smoke as she relived last night.
Acting as a decoy for the highway pirates was getting boring, if she were to be honest about it. The road dogs she had begun to associate with months ago were small-minded and stoned most of the time. Their leader, in particular, was frying his brain with booze and pot and was so out of it that Unique no longer bothered having sex with him. She tapped an ash and signaled the waitress to bring another beer as she felt the stare of a woman sitting alone at the bar.
"You from out of town?" the woman asked, and her strong energy and hot eyes registered clearly on Unique's sexual radar.
"In and out," Unique evasively replied with her sweet smile.
"Oh." The woman got up and marveled over this pretty woman's unique way of expressing herself. "Mind if I join you?" She set her beer down on Unique's table and pulled out a chair. "My name's T.T., which is really funny now that this Trooper Truth stuff is all over the place. You won't believe it, but people who know me and even strangers all of a sudden got this crazy notion that my initials T.T. stand for Trooper Truth, and just because I wrote for my high school newspaper, I'm supposedly Trooper Truth but don't want anybody to know!"
Unique held T.T.'s gaze and sipped beer.
"Well, I'm not," T.T. went on. "But I wish like hell I was because that's the new mystery in this town: Who is
Trooper Truth? What's the truth about Trooper Truth? Like he's Robin Hood or something. You got any guesses? And you sure have amazing hair. You must brush it all the time."
"I don't know," Unique replied as T.T. bounced her foot and fidgeted nervously like a schoolboy with a crush. "My car's broke down. Maybe you could give me a ride home?"
"Sure!" T.T. said. "Hey, no problem. Man, you got such a quiet voice. Sorry about your car. Man, that's such a bitch when your car fucks up, you know?"
T.T. continued to rattle on as she smacked a ten-dollar bill on the bar and put on her leather biker's jacket. She usually wasn't this successful when she tried to pick up women, but it was about damn time her luck changed. T.T. worked for the state and had to wear dresses and other feminine attire in the office, where no one knew the truth about her private life. So the only opportunity she had for assuaging her loneliness was to dress the part and hang out in bars at night and on weekends. This was expensive and largely unproductive, and her hands were shaking with excitement as she let Unique into her old Honda.
"Which way?" T.T. asked as she pulled out onto Gary Street.
"Let's go down to the dock, you know, off Canal. I love looking at the river. We'll walk on Belle Island," Unique replied in her tiny, hushed voice as her Purpose, as she thought of it, throbbed inside her and a slow burn of ancient rage began to consume her brain.
Minutes later, she and T.T. got out of the Honda and stood along the water, the chilled September air blowing
Unique's hair like black fire. There wasn't another person around and it vaguely penetrated Unique's spell that T.T. was incredibly stupid to wander off with a perfect stranger, and how dare she just assume that Unique was of her persuasion and would be interested. How incredibly stupid the other ones had been, too. Unique took T.T.'s hand and they walked over a footbridge that led to Belle Island, where Union soldiers had been imprisoned during the Civil War. The island was densely wooded and cut with bike paths and trails. Unique pulled T.T. behind a tree and began to kiss and fondle her into a frenzy. "I want you to have a unique experience," Unique whispered as she dug her tongue in T.T.'s mouth and slipped a box cutter out of a pocket.