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ollars already promised。 She would be back as soon as she gave the two hundred to her pimp。
Three minutes later she returned and as she slid into the front seat she grabbed him。
〃My name's Thelma；〃 she said。 〃What's yours？〃
〃Simon；〃 he said。 〃I've already got a room。〃 He snapped the door locks shut and drove off。
Ten minutes later； they were in Butler's motel room。 Twenty minutes later； she was tied； gagged； drugged and lying on the floor behind the bed； not visible from the window and out of reach of the telephone。 The last was an unnecessary precaution because she would be out for the rest of the night
Butler looked at her one more time before leaving the room and he was satisfied。 The size was right； the hair coloring about right。 It wouldn't be perfect； it certainly might not fool anyone for too long； but it should do。 It would buy enough time。
He whistled as he drove out through （the hot city into the rolling fox…hunting hills of rich…bitch Virginia。
He drove the road three times before he found the cutoff to the long winding drive that led to the Butler estate。 With his headlights out； and after sitting in the dark for a moment； he could see the main house high up on a hill； two hundred yards from the road。 He decided not to drive up； the roadway was probably hooked up to an alarm。 He cruised slowly down the highway for another hundred yards； found a deep shoulder off the road covered by an overhang of trees； and drove in。
He closed the car up； checked his pockets to make sure he had his materials and then set across the razor…cut lawns of the Butler estate toward the big house on the hill； keeping close to the line of trees at the property's northern end。
As he loped； he glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch。 Cutting it close； but still enough time。
The grass oozed up a damp coolness that enveloped him as he moved； and he imagined himself in an earlier day； trudging barefooted along these hills； dressed perhaps in a monkey suit； bringing drinks to Massa on the patio。 When had it happened？ When had he e to hate so？
He moved in a rhythmic trot； his giant athlete's body swinging free and easy； the way he used to on the grass covered fields of football； when he performed in the big open…air cage for the whites lucky enough to have a friend who could help them get season's tickets。
No matter when he started to hate。 He hated。 That was enough of an answer； but then he remembered。 King Kong was why he hated。
Butler had had a particularly bitter argument with his sister； had gone out into the New York night； and somehow had wound up listening to a free lecture on racism ~ at the New School for Social Research。
The lecturer was one of that roving band of non…teaching teachers who make a headline with one interesting； if erroneous； statement and then milk it for lecture fees at campuses for the next twenty years。 The lecturer began to talk about racism hi the films； drawing unsupported conclusions from unsubstantiated data； to the growing applause of the two hundred people； mostly white； in the audience。
Then the house lights dimmed and film clips from the old King Kong classic began to be shown on the screen。 There were five minutes of the giant ape terrorizing Fay Wray in the jungle； then climbing the Empire State Building with her in his giant hand； then standing there atop the building until he was gunned down by the fighter planes。
The speaker seemed to want to match the auditorium darkness with the lack of light in his own analysis。
King Kong； he said； was just a thinly veiled attack by while filmmakers on black sexuality； a pandering…to the redneck's fear of the potent black man。 The leering expressions of King Kong as he lifted the white girl up in his giant black hand； his mindless； headlong； unswerving search for her which typified the mythical lust of black men for white women； and the cheaply symbolic end where King Kong was shot down while hanging on to the building's phallic symbol of a tower； thus signifying that the black man would be done in by his erect phallus…all these were cited as proofs by the speaker。
Butler looked around the auditorium at the heads nodding up and down in agreement。
And these were the liberals； he thought； the best hope of blacks in America…and not one of them questioned； for even a moment； their own willingness to equate a giant movie monkey with a black man。 Didn't they teach anthropology in the schools any more？ Didn't they teach anything？ The ape was hairy； and blacks were hairless。 Blacks had thick lips； but apes had no lips at all。 And yet these looney…tunes could believe that people would find blacks and apes interchangeable。 Why could they believe that of others； if they didn't really know it of themselves？
And they were supposed to be the best America had to offer。
Butler had left the auditorium convinced by the speaker of just one thing： his sister had been right and he had been wrong。 It would take confrontation and possibly violence to get what the black man deserved in America。
Butler tried。 Then came that visit to the Lord village； when William Forsythe Butler had known that he had e home。 He heard the legend of the Loni and knew that he…he alone…could be the redeemer of that legend； that he could use the Loni to take over power in Busati and show what a black man could do with a government if given half a chance。
He was at the house now。 It was dark and silent。 He was glad there were no dogs。 Willie Butler was afraid of dogs。
He paused close to the wall of the house； looking around him； remembering the floor plan that had been outlined to him by a researcher； who had found it hi the Library of Congress； under Historical Homes of Virginia。 The girl's room would be second floor front right He looked up。 Latticework； buried under vines； covered the front of the big building。 He hoped the thin wood would hold his weight。
Butler tested it by reaching up； grabbing a piece of wood with his right hand； and lifting his feet off the ground。
He hung there suspended by his right hand momentarily； the wood was anchored and strong。 He grunted softly to himself and then began climbing the latticework like a ladder。 The window to the second floor bedroom was unlocked and open slightly at the top。 Inside he could hear the faint whirring of central air conditioning breathing coolness into the room。
The night was black as a railroad tunnel at midnight； and the inside of the bedroom seemed to be brightly lighted by the small lamp built into the light switch near the door。
In the bed； under a shiny sheet； he could make out a woman's form。 That should be Hillary Butler。
Holding onto the latticework with one hand； Butler inched the bottom window up until it was fully opened。 Then he carefully stepped into the room； his shoes sinking deeply into the plush velvet carpet that covered the floor。 He paused； sipping his breath carefully through his nose； trying to make no sound； then moved toward the bed； the foot； around the side。 He could see the girl's face now。 It was Hillary Butler； sleeping the dreamy sleep of the peaceful…with…the…world。 That she slept in this air…conditioned room under that satin sheet b