jg.thefirm-第50部分

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d　the　corner　of　the　island。　Each　would　make　two　dives；　at　places　like　Bonnie's　Arch；　Devil's　Grotto；　Eden　Rock　and　Roger's　Wreck　Point；　places　he　had　dived　and　toured　and　guided　through　a　thousand　times。　Some　of　the　places　he　had　discovered　himself。
　　The　McDeeres　approached；　and　Mitch　quietly　introduced　his　wife　to　Mr。　Abanks；　who　was　not　polite　but　not　rude。　They　started　for　the　small　pier；　where　a　deckhand　was　preparing　a　thirty…foot　fishing　boat；　Abanks　unloaded　an　indecipherable　string　of　mands　in　the　general　direction　of　the　young　deckhand；　who　was　either　deaf　or　unafraid　of　his　boss。
　　Mitch　stood　next　to　Abanks；　the　captain　now；　and　pointed　to　the　bar　fifty　yards　away　down　the　pier。　〃Do　you　know　all　those　people　at　the　bar？〃　he　asked。
　　Abanks　frowned　at　Mitch。
　　　〃They　tried　to　follow　me　here。　Just　curious；〃　Mitch　said。　〃The　usual　gang；〃　Abanks　said。　〃No　strangers。〃
　　〃Have　you　noticed　any　strangers　around　this　morning？〃
　　〃Look；　this　place　attracts　strange　people。　I　keep　no　ledger　of　the　strange　ones　and　the　normal　ones。〃
　　〃Have　you　seen　a　fat　American；　red　hair；　at　least　three　hundred　pounds？〃
　　Abanks　shook　his　head。　The　deckhand　eased　the　boat　；uckward；　away　from　the　pier；　then　toward　the　horizon。　Abby　sat　on　a　small　padded　bench　and　watched　the　dive　lodge　disappear。　In　a　vinyl　bag　between　her　feet　were　two　new　sets　of　snorkeling　fins　and　dive　masks。　It　was　ostensibly　a　snorkeling　trip　with　maybe　a　little　light　fishing　if　they　were　biting。　The　great　man　himself　had　agreed　to　acpany　them；　but　only　after　Mitch　insisted　and　told　him　they　needed　to　discuss　personal　matters。　Private　matters；　regarding　the　death　of　his　son。
　　From　a　screened　balcony　on　the　second　floor　of　a　Cayman　Kai　beach　house；　the　Nordic　watched　the　two　snorkeled　heads　bob　and　disappear　around　the　fishing　boat。　He　handed　the　binoculars　to　Two…Ton　Tony　Verkler；　who；　quickly　bored；　handed　them　back。　A　striking　blonde　in　a　black　one…piece　with　legs　cut　high；　almost　to　the　rib　cage；　stood　behind　the　Nordic　and　took　the　binoculars。　Of　particular　interest　was　the　deckhand。
　　Tony　spoke。　〃I　don't　understand。　If　they　were　talking　serious；　why　the　boy？　Why　have　another　set　of　ears　around？〃
　　〃Perhaps　they're　talking　about　snorkeling　and　fishing；〃　said　the　Nordic。
　　〃I　don't　know；〃　said　the　blonde。　〃It's　unusual　for　Abanks　to　spend　time　on　a　fishing　boat。　He　likes　the　divers。　There　must　be　a　good　reason　for　him　to　waste　a　day　with　two　novice　snorkelers。　Something's　up。〃
　　〃Who's　the　boy？〃　asked　Tony。
　　〃Just　one　of　the　gofers；〃　she　said。　〃He's　got　a　dozen。〃
　　〃Can　you　talk　to　him　later？〃　asked　the　Nordic。
　　〃Yeah；〃　said　Tony。　〃Show　him　some　skin；　snort　some　candy。　He'll　talk。〃
　　〃I'll　try；〃　she　said。
　　〃What's　his　name？〃　asked　the　Nordic。
　　〃Keith　Rook。〃
　　Keith　Rook　maneuvered　the　boat　alongside　the　pier　at　Rum　Point。　Mitch；　Abby　and　Abanks　climbed　from　the　boat　and　headed　for　the　beach。　Keith　was　not　invited　to　lunch。　He　stayed　behind　and　lazily　washed　the　deck。
　　The　Shipwreck　Bar　sat　inland　a　hundred　yards　under　a　heavy　cover　of　rare　shade　trees。　It　was　dark　and　damp　with　screened　windows　and　squeaky　ceiling　fans。　There　was　no　reggae；　dominoes；　or　dartboard。　The　noon　crowd　was　quiet　with　each　table　engrossed　in　its　own　private　talk。
　　The　view　from　their　table　was　out　to　sea；　to　the　north。　They　ordered　cheeseburgers　and　beer…island　food。
　　〃This　bar　is　different；〃　Mitch　observed　quietly。
　　〃Very　much　so；〃　said　Abanks。　〃And　with　good　reason。　It's　a　hangout　for　drug　dealers　who　own　many　of　the　nice　homes　and　condos　around　here。　They　fly　in　on　their　private　jets；　deposit　their　money　in　our　many　fine　banks　and　spend　a　few　days　around　here　checking　their　real　estate。〃
　　〃Nice　neighborhood。〃
　　〃Very　nice；　really。　They　have　millions　and　they　keep　to　themselves。〃
　　The　waitress；　a　husky；　well…mixed　mulatto；　dropped　three　bottles　of　Jamaican　Red　Stripe　on　the　table　without　saying　a　word。　Abanks　leaned　forward　on　his　elbows　with　his　head　lowered；　the　customary　manner　of　speaking　in　the　Shipwreck　Bar。　〃So　you　think　you　can　walk　away？〃　he　said。
　　Mitch　and　Abby　leaned　forward　in　unison；　and　all　three　heads　met　low　in　the　center　of　the　table；　just　over　the　beer。　〃Not　walk；　but　run。　Run　like　hell；　but　I'll　get　away。　And　I'll　need　your　help。〃
　　He　thought　about　this　for　a　moment　and　raised　his　head。　He　shrugged。　〃But　what　am　I　to　do？〃　He　took　the　first　sip　of　his　Red　Stripe。
　　Abby　saw　her　first；　and　it　would　take　a　woman　to　spot　another　woman　straining　ever　so　elegantly　to　eavesdrop　on　their　little　conversation。　Her　back　was　to　Abanks。　She　was　a　solid　blonde　partially　hidden　under　cheap　black　rubber　sunglasses　that　covered　most　of　her　face；　and　she　had　been　watching　the　ocean　and　listening　a　bit　too　hard。　When　the　three　of　them　leaned　over；　she　sat　up　straight　and　listened　like　hell。　She　was　by　herself　at　a　table　for　two。
　　Abby　dug　her　fingernails　into　her　husband's　leg；　and　their　table　became　quiet。　The　blonde　in　black　listened；　then　turned　to　her　table　and　her　drink。
　　Wayne　Tarrance　had　improved　his　wardrobe　by　Friday　of　Cayman　Week。　Gone　were　the　straw　sandals　and　tight　shorts　and　teenybop　sunglasses。　Gone　were　the　sickly…pale　legs。　Now　they　were　bright　pink；　burned　beyond　recognition。　After　three　days　in　the　tropical　outback　known　as　Cayman　Brae；　he　and　Acklin；　acting　on　behalf　of　the　U。S。　government；　had　pounced　on　a　rather　cheap　room　on　Grand　Cayman；　miles　from　Seven　Mile　Beach　and　not　within　walking　distance　of　any　remote　portion　of　the　sea。　Here　they　had　established　a　mand　post　to　monitor　the　ings　and　goings　of　the　McDeeres　and　other　interested　people。　Here；　at　the　Coconut　Motel；　they　had　shared　a　small　room　with　two　single　beds　and　cold　showers。　Wednesday　morning；　they　had　contacted　the　subject；　McDeere；　and　requested　a　meeting　as　soon　as　possible。　He　said　no。　Said　he　was　too　busy。　Said　he　and　his　wife　were　honeymooning　and　had　no　time　for　such　a　meeting。　Maybe　later；　was　all　he　said。
　　Then　late　Thursday；　while　Mitch　and　Abby　were　enjoying　grilled　grouper　at　the　Lighthouse　on　the　road　to　Bodden　Town；　Laney；　Agent　Laney；　dressed　in　appropriate　island　garb　and　looking　very　much　like　an　island　Negro；　stopped　at　their　table　and　laid　down　the　law。　Tarrance　insisted　on　a　meeting。
　　Chickens　had　to　be　imported　into　the　Cayman　Islands；　and　not　the　best　ones。　Only　medium…grade　chickens；　to　be　consumed　not　by　native　islanders　but　by　Americans　away　from　home　without　this　most　basic　staple。　Colonel　Sanders　had　the　damnedest　time　teaching　the　island　girls；　though　black　or　close　to　it；　how　to　fry　chicken。　It　was　foreign　to　them。
　　And　so　it　was　that　Special　Agent　Wayne　Tarrance；　of　the　Bronx；　arranged　a　quick　secret　meeting　at　…the　Kentucky　Fried　Chicken　franchise　on　the　island　of　Grand　Cayman。　The　only　such　franchise。　He　thought　the　place　would　be　deserted。　He　was　wrong。
　　A　hundred　hungry　tourists　from　Georgia；　Alabama；　Texas　and　Mississippi　packed　the　place　and　devoured　extra…crispy　with　cole　slaw　and　creamed　potatoes。　It　tasted　better　in　Tupelo；　but　it　would　do。
　　Tarrance　and　Acklin　sat　in　a　booth　in　the　crowded　restaurant　and　nervously　watched　the　front　door。　It　was　not　too　late　to　abort。　There　were　just　too　many　people。　Finally；　Mitch　entered；　by　himself；　and　stood　in　the　long　line。　He　brought　his　little　red　box　to　their　table　and　sat　down。　He　did　not　say　hello　or　anything。　He　began　eating　the　three…piece　dinner　for　which　he　paid　4。89；　Cayman　dollars。　Imported　chicken。
　　〃Where　have　you　been？〃　Tarrance　asked。
　　Mitch　attacked　a　thigh。　〃On　the　island。　It's　stupid　to　meet　here；　Tarrance。　Too　many　people。〃
　　〃We　know　what　we're　doing。〃
　　〃Yeah；　like　the　Korean　shoe　store。〃
　　〃Cute。　Why　wouldn't　you　see　us　Wednesday？〃
　　〃I　was　busy　Wednesday。　I　didn't　want　to　see　you　Wednesday。　Am　I　clean？〃
　　〃Of　course　you're　clean。　Laney　would've　tackled　you　at　the　front　door　if　you　weren't　clean。〃
　　〃This　place　makes　me　nervous；　Tarrance。〃
　　〃Why　did　you　go　to　Abanks？〃
　　Mitch　wiped　his　mouth　and　held　the　partially　devoured　thigh。　A　rather　small　thigh。　〃He's　got　a　boat。　I　wanted　to　fish　and　snorkel；　so　we　cut　a　deal。　Where　were　you；　Tarrance？　In　a　submarine　trailing　us　around　the　island？〃
　　〃What　did　Abanks　say？〃
　　〃Oh；　he　knows　lots　of　words。　Hello。　Give　me　a　beer。　Who's　following　us？　Buncha　words。〃
　　〃They　followed　you；　you　know？〃
　　〃They！　Which　they？　Your　they　or　their　they？　I'm　being　followed　so　much　I'm　causing　traffic　jams。〃
　　〃The　bad　guys；　Mitch。　Those　from　Memphis　and　Chicago　and　New　York。　The　ones　who'll　kill　you　tomorrow　if　you　get　real　cute。〃
　　〃I'm　touched。　So　they　followed　me。　Where'd　I　take　them？　Snorkeling？　Fishing？　e　on；　Tarrance。　They　follow　me；　you　follow　them；　you　follow　me；　they　follow　you。　If　I　slam　on　brakes　I　get　twenty　noses　up　my　ass。　Why　are　we　meeting　here；　Tarrance？　This　place　is　packed。〃
　　Tarrance　glanced　around　in　frustration。
　　Mitch　closed　his　chicken　box。　〃Look；　Tarrance；　I'm　nervous　and　I've　lost　my　appetite。〃
　　〃Relax。　You　were　clean　ing　from　the　condo。〃　　　　　^
　　〃I'm　always　clean；　Tarrance。　I　suppose　Hodge　and　Kozinski　were　clean　every　time　they　moved。　Clean　at　Abanks。　Clean　on　the　dive　boat。　Clean　at　the　funerals。　This　was　not　a　good　idea；　Tarrance。　I'm　leaving。〃
　　〃Okay。　When　does　your　plane　leave？〃
　　〃Why？　You　guys　plan　to　follow？　Will　you　follow　me　or　them？　What　if　they　follow　you？　What　if　we　all　get　real　confused　and　I　follow　everybody？〃
　　〃e　on；　Mitch。〃
　　〃Nine…forty　in　the　morning。　I'll　try　to　save　you　a　seat。　You　can　have　the　window　next　to　Two…Ton　Tony。〃
　　〃When　do　we　get　your　files？〃
　　Mitch　stood　with　his　chicken　box。　〃In　a　week　or　so。　Give　me　ten　days；　and；　Tarrance；　no　more　meetings　in　public。　They　kill　lawyers；　remember；　not　stupid　FBI　agents。〃
　　　
　　　26
　　AT　eight　Monday　morning；　Oliver　Lambert　and　Nathan　Locke　were　cleared　through　the　concrete　wall　on　the　fifth　floor　and　walked　through　the　maze　of　small　rooms　and　offices。　DeVasher　was　waiting。　He　closed　the　door　behind　them　and　pointed　to　the　chairs。　His　walk　was　not　as　quick。　The　night　had　been　a　long　losing　battle　with　the　vodka。　The　eyes　were　red　and　the　brain　expanded　with　each　breath。
　　〃I　talke