"Boys like him," the doctor said, "they die by the dozens each day in Nuevo Laredo, in cartel gunfights with the federales or with each other. This boy, he is very lucky. He will not die this day."
The boy's chest wall and ribs on his right side were held open by a retractor, exposing the thoracic cavity. The doctor was now searching for the bullet with a small flashlight. He inserted a pair of forceps into the boy's chest, then retracted the forceps to reveal a small piece of lead.
"AK-47. What the soldados call the cuerno de chivo… the goat's horn, because that is what the weapon resembles. But it has only a single purpose: to kill human beings."
Across the rotunda, a tall, lean man with a shaved head shook hands with Jim Bob; his coat opened enough to reveal a pistol in a belt holster. He didn't look like a cop, but anyone with a concealed-carry permit could pack a gun into the Texas State Capitol, no questions asked. Bode waited by the white marble statue of Sam Houston for the Professor to finish his conversation. He glanced up at old Sam and wondered how he had looked back on his life at Bode's age-and what a life that man had lived. Living with the Cherokees, fighting the War of 1812, being elected a member of Congress and governor of Tennessee, leading the Texas revolution against Mexico, capturing Santa Anna at San Jacinto, and being elected the first president of the Republic of Texas-all before his forty-third birthday. And he went on to be elected the first U.S. senator from Texas after statehood and then governor of the State of Texas. Every day of that man's life had been an adventure.
Men today don't get to live such lives.
The State Capitol sat quiet that day, the silence broken only by the subdued voices of a middle-school field trip gathered in the rotunda, their fresh faces turned up to gaze at the star on the dome two hundred eighteen feet above them. The legislature came into session every other year, in odd-numbered years, and this was not such a year. During even-numbered years, the Capitol hosted field trips. But during the sessions, lobbyists took over the place and students stayed at school. No parent wanted their children watching the state legislature in action.
Jim Bob shook hands again with the tall man then dodged the field trip and came over to Bode. His heels clacked on the terrazzo floor embedded with the seals of the six nations whose flags had flown over Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the Confederate States of America, and the United States of America.
When he arrived, Bode said, "Who's that?"
"Eddie Jones. He works for you."
"He does?"
"He does now."
"What does he do?"
"Odd jobs." Jim Bob shrugged. "Glorified gopher."
"A gopher with a gun?"
"Shit, Bode, my newspaper boy carries a gun. This is Texas."
They had stopped off at the Capitol for the governor's weekly press conference. Standing in the rotunda lined with portraits of the governors of Texas from Sam Houston to William Bode Bonner now brought all the burdens of office back into his thoughts. He gestured at the portraits.
"Jim Bob, Texas prospered under every one of those governors. I don't want this state to fail on my watch. What are we going to do about this budget deficit?"
"What budget deficit?"
"The twenty-seven-billion-dollar deficit."
"There's no deficit."
"What are you talking about? The comptroller's revenue projections show we're going to be twenty-seven billion short over the next two years."
"Bode, read my lips: there-is-no-deficit."
Bode exhaled heavily. "Jim Bob, that's not gonna fly. Everyone knows we're looking at a big deficit. There's no denying it. That'd be like you denying you're bald."
"I'm not bald. I have a beautiful head of thick, curly brown hair just like when I was a kid-"
"Wearing those thick glasses." Bode laughed. "You're a fuckin' nut
… or a goddamn genius, I'm not sure which."
"I'm an optimist. And you'd better be one, too. That's what voters want to hear. And that's what you're going to tell them right up to election day: there is no deficit. We'll deal with reality come January when the legislature convenes. Nothing we can do till then anyway." He shrugged again. "Denial ain't a river in Egypt-it's our campaign theme."
Bode turned and stared at his own image. How many times had he stood there and imagined his portrait on the wall of the majestic rotunda of the Texas State Capitol? How proud had he felt standing there when his portrait was hung? Life had been exciting eight years ago when he had first been elected governor. The adventure was upon him, the economy was booming, and his wife loved him. Now "I'm hiding a twenty-seven-year-old mistress from my wife and a twenty-seven-billion-dollar deficit from the voters."
He glanced up again at Sam and felt the sharp stab of shame; would they erect a statue of William Bode Bonner in the Capitol one day?
"What kind of man am I?"
"You're not a man," the Professor said. "You're a politician."
Mandy arrived to retrieve the governor. They walked across the hall and into the press room. Bode stopped at the door and regarded the nearly empty space.
"That's it? Two print reporters? And one's from the UT student paper? That's all the coverage for my weekly press conference? Where's the Austin paper? The TV reporters?"
Mandy gave him a lame shrug. Jim Bob checked his iPhone.
"Oh, there's a big wreck out on the interstate. They sent the camera crews to cover that instead."
"Figures."
Mandy whispered: "The girl is Kim, the guy is Carl."
"Kim and Carl. Got it."
Bode stepped to the podium and again became the governor seeking reelection. He put on his politician's face.
"Kim, Carl, good to see y'all today. What'd you think about the primary?"
"What primary?" Carl said.
He was being a smart-ass because he was a Democrat.
"Oh, you mean the Republican general election?"
"Well, Carl, when you get tired of losing, let me know, and I'll put in a good word for you with the state Republican Party chairman, maybe he'll let you join up."
Bode chuckled; Carl did not. He had a liberal's sense of humor, the kind that worked only when they won.
"I'm announcing today that after numerous requests by me, the federal government has finally deployed a Predator drone to the border to assist in drug and immigrant interdiction."
Kim, the UT student reporter, stood.
"Governor, is it true that the drone will be armed with missiles to shoot Mexicans?"
Bode could tell from the tone of her voice that she was being sarcastic. She was a Democrat, too.
"Don't tease me, Kim."
She rolled her eyes and sat.
"I'm also deploying the Ranger Recon unit to the border. Ranger Recon is an elite unit of the Texas Rangers. They will engage in covert operations to secure our border since the president refuses to do so."
Kim stood again.
"What kind of operations, Governor?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because they're covert operations. Covert means secret. If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore."
"A secret?"
"You know, something you don't want everyone to know."
"I know what a secret is, Governor, but why are the Ranger Recon operations secret?"
Bode turned his palms up.
"Because they're covert operations."
That shut her up. She sat down, and Carl stood. He reported for the alternative newspaper in Austin. His column ran between ads for sex partners and sex toys.
"Governor, you're campaigning on a 'faith, family and schools' theme."
"That's correct."
"So where do you go to church?"
He didn't. But he couldn't say that in public in Texas.
"A church."
"Which church?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Security."
" Security? Who the heck would want to shoot the governor of Texas? Maybe someone important like the speaker of the House, but-"
"Funny."
Carl thought he was.
"Governor, projections are that we're facing a twenty-seven-billion-dollar deficit in the next biennial budget."
"Who told you that?"
"The comptroller."
"Well, that's not true, Carl."
"We're not looking at a big deficit?"
"Nope."
"But the comptroller is-"
"Wrong. We're fine. No deficit."
"No deficit?"
"No deficit."
Carl frowned. Bode cut a glance at Jim Bob, who nodded as if to a student who had correctly answered his question. The reporter retreated from the budget.
"Governor, you're the tea party's favorite son here in Texas. Have you thought about testing the national waters for a presidential run?"
"You trying to get rid of me, Carl?"
"Well…"
"Heck, if I moved to Washington, I wouldn't get to see you every week."
"We could text."
"I've got the best job in the country."
"Well, Governor, your Democratic opponent says you're not doing your job, says you're a part-time governor, says that you work less than ten hours each week."
"But I sing better than him."
"Perhaps, but we've obtained your bodyguard's official log for the last month under the Open Records Act and found that you worked out at the downtown YMCA and jogged around the lake twenty-nine times, played golf thirteen times, had lunch with your daughter four times, and-"
"You don't want me to have lunch with my daughter?"
"I think your opponent wants you to work a little more."
"My opponent wants my job. Look, when you're the governor of Texas, everything you do is for the people of Texas."
"Playing golf?"
"Talking state business."
"With lobbyists?"
"Don't they have a right to be heard?"
Bode had been around Carl long enough to know that he was building up to his big question of the day-"Carl Crawford's scandal of the week."
"Governor, the Board of Pardons and Paroles has opened an investigation to determine if the State of Texas executed an innocent man on your watch."
"Who?"
"Billy Joe Dickson."
"Dickson? That the ol' boy convicted of burning his house down with his kids in it?"
"No, that's the ol' boy convicted of murdering his mother with an ax."
"Down in Houston?"
"Up in Dalhart."
"Oh, yeah, I remember now. He was guilty."
"You're sure?"
"Yep."
"So why is the Board conducting an investigation?"
"Politics."
"They're all Republican. You appointed them."
"I did?" He grunted. "Oh, then they're just mad."
"About what?"
"We're gonna cut their budget."
"Why? If there's no deficit?"
"There's no deficit because we cut spending before there is a deficit."
"But-"
Bode sighed. Democrats. He answered four more questions then called it a day. He walked out the door followed by Jim Bob.
"We'll replace the entire Board of Pardons and Paroles," the Professor said. "That'll derail the investigation."
"Can we do that?"
"It's one of the few things the governor can do."
Bode threw a thumb back at the press room.
"Won't the press bitch?"
The Professor shrugged it off.
"So? Voters won't hold it against us if we execute the wrong guy every now and then. No one's perfect."