ch.nativetongue-第15部分

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　〃I'm　ing　to　that；〃　said　Molly　McNamara。　〃By　the　way；　did　I　mention　that　Mr。　Kingsbury　is　offering　a　reward　to　anyone　who　turns　in　the　vole　robbers？〃
　〃Oh；　no；〃　said　Danny　Pogue。
　〃Quite　an　enormous　reward；　according　to　the　papers。〃
　〃How　nice；〃　said　Bud　Schwartz；　his　voice　cold。
　〃Oh；　don't　worry；〃　Molly　said。　〃I　wouldn't　dream　of　saying　anything　to　the　authorities。〃
　〃How　could　you？〃　Danny　Pogue　exclaimed。　〃You're　the　one　asked　us　to　rob　the　place！〃
　Molly's　face　crinkled　in　thought。　〃That'd　be　awfully　hard　to　swallow；　that　an　old　retired　woman　like　myself　would　get　involved　in　such　a　distasteful　crime。　I　suppose　the　FBI　would　have　to　decide　whom　to　believe…two　young　fellows　with　your　extensive　criminal　pasts；　or　an　older　woman　like　myself　who's　never　even　had　a　parking　ticket。〃
　Danny　Pogue　angrily　pounded　the　floor　with　one　of　his　crutches。　〃For　someone　who　don't　like　to　lie；　you　sure　do　make　a　sport　of　it。〃
　Bud　Schwartz　stretched　out　on　the　sofa；　closed　his　eyes　and　smiled　in　resignation。　〃You're　a　piece　a　work；〃　he　said　to　Molly　McNamara。　〃I　gotta　admit。〃
　
　The　Card　Sound　Bridge　is　a　steep　two…lane　span　that　connects　the　northern　tip　of　Key　Largo　with　the　South　Florida　mainland。　Joe　Winder　got　there　two　hours　early；　at　ten　o'clock。　He　parked　half　a　mile　down　the　road　and　walked　the　rest　of　the　way。　He　staked　out　a　spot　on　some　limestone　boulders；　which　formed　a　jetty　under　the　eastern　incline　of　the　bridge。　From　there　Winder　could　watch　for　the　car　that　would　bring　the　mystery　caller　to　this　meeting。
　He　knew　it　wouldn't　be　Dr。　Will　Koocher；　Nina　was　never　wrong　about　phone　voices。　Joe　Winder　had　no　intention　of　confronting　the　impostor；　but　at　least　he　wanted　to　get　a　good　look；　maybe　even　a　tag　number。
　Not　much　was　biting　under　the　bridge。　Effortlessly　Winder　cast　the　same　pink　wiggle…jig　he'd　been　using　on　the　bonefish　flats。　He　let　it　sink　into　the　fringe　of　the　sea　grass；　then　reeled　in　slowly；　bouncing　the　lure　with　the　tip　of　his　rod。　In　this　fashion　he　picked　up　a　couple　of　blue　runners　and　a　large　spiny　pinfish；　which　he　tossed　back。　The　other　fishermen　were　using　dead　shrimp　with　similar　unexciting　results。　By　eleven　most　of　them　had　packed　up　their　buckets　and　rods　and　gone　home；　leaving　the　jetty　deserted　except　for　Joe　Winder　and　two　other　diehards。
　The　other　men　stood　side　by　side；　conversing　quietly　in　Spanish。　As　Joe　Winder　watched　them　more　closely；　it　seemed　that　the　men　were　doing　more　serious　talking　than　fishing。　They　were　using　Cuban　yo…yo　rigs；　twirling　the　lines　overhead　and　launching　the　baits　with　a　loud　plop　into　the　water。　Once　in　a　while　they'd　pull　in　the　lines　and　cast　out　again；　usually　without　even　checking　the　hooks。
　One　of　the　men　was　a　husky　no…neck　in　long　canvas　pants。　The　other　was　short　and　wiry；　and　as　dark　as　coffee。　Both　wore　baseball　caps　and　light　jackets；　which　was　odd；　considering　the　heat。　Every　few　minutes　a　pair　of　headlights　would　appear　down　Card　Sound　Road；　and　Joe　Winder　would　check　to　see　if　the　car　stopped　at　the　foot　of　the　bridge。　After　a　while；　he　noticed　that　the　two　other　fishermen　were　doing　the　same。　This　was　not　a　good　sign。
　As　midnight　approached；　the　other　men　stopped　pretending　to　fish　and　concentrated　on　the　road。　Joe　Winder　realized　that　he　was　stranded　on　the　jetty　with　two　goons　who　probably　were　waiting　to　ambush　him。　Worse；　they　stood　squarely　between　Winder　and　the　relative　safety　of　the　island。　The　most　obvious　means　of　escape　would　be　jumping　into　Card　Sound；　while　exceptionally　dramatic；　such　a　dive　would　prove　both　stupid　and　futile。　The　bay　was　shallow　and　provided　no　cover；　if　the　goons　had　guns；　they　could　simply　shoot　him　like　a　turtle。
　Joe　Winder's　only　hope　was　that　they　wouldn't　recognize　him　in　the　dark　with　his　hair　hacked　off。　It　was　a　gray　overcast　night；　and　he　was　doing　a　creditable　impersonation　of　a　preoccupied　angler。　Most　likely　the　goons　would　be　expecting　him　at　twelve　sharp；　some　dumb　shmuck　hollering　Koocher's　name　under　the　bridge。
　The　strategy　of　staying　invisible　might　have　worked　if　only　a　powerful　fish　had　not　seized　Joe　Winder's　lure。　The　strike　jolted　his　arms；　and　reflexively　he　yanked　back　hard　to　set　the　hook。　The　fish　streaked　toward　the　rock；　then　back　out　again　toward　open　water。　The　buzz　of　Winder's　reel　cut　like　a　saw　through　the　stillness　of　the　bay。　The　two　goons　stopped　talking　and　looked　up　to　see　what　was　happening。
　Joe　Winder　knew。　It　was　a　snook；　a　damn　big　one。　Any　other　night　he　would　have　been　thrilled　to　hook　such　a　fish；　but　not　now。　From　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　could　see　the　goons　rock…hopping　down　the　jetty　so　they　could　better　view　the　battle。　Near　a　piling　the　fish　broke　to　the　surface；　shaking　its　gills　furiously　before　diving　in　a　frothy　silver　gash。　The　goons　pointed　excitedly　at　the　motion；　and　Winder　couldn't　blame　them；　it　was　a　grand　fish。
　Joe　Winder　knew　what　to　do；　but　he　couldn't　bring　himself　to　do　it。　Palm　the　spool。　Break　the　damn　thing　off；　before　the　two　guys　got　any　closer。　Instead　Joe　Winder　was　playing　the　fish　like　a　pro；　horsing　it　away　from　the　rocks　and　pilings；　letting　it　spend　itself　in　short　hard　bursts。　What　am　I；　crazy？　Winder　thought。　From　up　here　I　could　never　land　this　fish　alone。　The　goons　would　want　to　help；　sure　they　would；　and　then　they'd　see　who　I　was　and　that　would　be　it。　One　dead　snook　and　one　dead　flack。
　Again　the　fish　thrust　its　underslung　snout　from　the　water　and　splashed。　Even　in　the　tea…colored　water　the　black　lateral　stripe　was　visible　along　its　side。　Twelve　pounds　easy；　thought　Winder。　A　fine　one。
　One　of　the　goons　clapped　his　hands　and　Joe　Winder　looked　up。　〃Nize　goying；〃　the　man　said。　〃Dat's　some　fugging　fish。〃　It　was　the　short　wiry　one。
　〃Thanks；〃　said　Winder。　Maybe　he　was　wrong。　Maybe　these　weren't　the　bad　guys；　after　all。　Or　maybe　they　hadn't　e　to　hurt　him；　maybe　they　just　wanted　to　talk。　Maybe　they　had　Koocher　and　were　scheming　for　a　ransom。
　After　five　minutes　of　back…and…forth；　the　snook　was　tiring。　Twenty　yards　from　the　jetty　it　glided　to　the　surface　and　flopped　its　tail　once；　twice。　Not　yet；　Winder　thought；　don't　give　up　yet；　you　marvelous　bastard。
　He　heard　their　heavy　footsteps　on　the　rocks。　Now　they　were　behind　him。　He　heard　their　breathing。　One　of　them　was　chewing　gum。　Joe　Winder　smelled　hot　spearmint　and　beer。
　〃What're　you　waiting　for？〃　asked　the　big　one。
　〃He's　not　ready；〃　Winder　said；　afraid　to　turn　and　give　them　a　look　at　his　face。　〃He's　still　got　some　gas。〃
　〃No；　look　at　the　fugging　thin；〃　said　the　little　one。　〃He　juice　about　dead；　mang。〃
　The　snook　was　dogging　it　on　top；　barely　putting　a　bend　in　Joe　Winder's　fishing　rod。
　〃That's　some　good　eating；〃　the　big　no…neck　goon　remarked。
　Winder　swallowed　dryly　and　said；　〃Too　bad　they're　out　of　season。〃
　He　heard　both　of　the　men　laugh。　〃Hey；　you　don't　want　him；　we'll　take　it　off　your　hands。　Fry　his　ass　up　in　a　minute。　Right；　Angel？〃
　The　little　one；　Angel；　said；　〃Yeah；　I　go　down　and　grab　hole　the　fugging　thin。〃　He　took　off　his　baseball　cap　and　scrabbled　noisily　down　the　rocks。
　Joe　Winder　got　a　mental　picture　of　these　two　submorons　in　yellowed　undershirts…swilling　beer；　watching　〃Wheel〃　on　the　tube…cooking　up　the　snook　on　a　cheap　gas　stove　in　some　rathole　Hialeah　duplex。　The　thought　of　it　was　more　than　he　could　stand。　He　placed　his　hand　on　the　spool　of　the　reel　and　pulled　once；　savagely。
　The　snook　had　one　good　powerful　surge　left　in　its　heart；　and　the　fishing　line　snapped　like　a　rifle　shot。　Joe　Winder　fell　back；　then　steadied　himself。　〃Goddammit；〃　he　said；　trying　to　sound　disappointed。
　〃That　was　really　stupid；〃　said　the　big　goon。　〃You　don't　know　shit　about　fighting　a　fish。〃
　〃I　guess　not。〃
　The　wiry　one　had　been　waiting　by　the　water　when　the　fish　got　off。　Cursing　in　Spanish；　he　monkeyed　back　up　the　rocks。　To　guide　himself；　he　held　a　small　flashlight　in　one　hand。　The　beam　caught　Joe　Winder　flush　in　the　face；　there　was　nothing　he　could　do。
　Instantly　the　big　goon　grabbed　him　by　the　shoulder。　〃Hey！　You　work　at　the　park。〃
　〃What　park？〃
　The　wiry　one　said；　〃Doan　tell　me　he's　the　guy。〃
　〃Yup；〃　said　the　big　one；　tightening　his　grip。
　The　men　edged　closer。　Joe　Winder　could　sense　they　were　angry　about　not　recognizing　him　sooner。
　〃Mr。　Fisherman；〃　said　the　big　one　acidly。
　〃That's　me；〃　said　Winder。　〃You　must　be　the　one　who　wanted　to　talk　about　Dr。　Koocher。〃
　The　goon　named　Angel　turned　off　the　flashlight　and　buried　it　in　his　jacket。　〃Two　hours　with　these　damn　mosquitoes　and　you　standing　right　here；　the　whole　fugging　tine！〃　He　punched　Joe　Winder　ferociously　in　the　kidney。
　As　Winder　fell；　he　thought：　So　they're　not　here　to　chat。
　His　head　bounced　against　limestone　and　he　began　to　lose　consciousness。　Then　he　felt　himself　being　lifted　by　the　armpits；　which　hurt　like　hell。　They　were　carrying　him　somewhere　in　a　hurry。
　The　husky　one；　Spearmint　Breath；　was　talking　in　Joe　Winder's　ear。　〃What'd　he　say　on　the　phone？〃
　〃Who？〃
　〃The　rat　doctor。〃
　〃Nothing。〃　Winder　was　panting。
　〃Aw；　bullshit。〃
　〃I　swear。　He　left　a　message；　that's　all。〃　Winder　tried　to　walk　but　felt　his　legs　pedaling　air；　being　swept　along。　〃Just　a　message　was　all；〃　he　said　again。　〃He　wanted　to　see　me　but　he　didn't　say　why。〃
　In　his　other　ear；　Joe　Winder　heard　the　wiry　one　call　him　a　stinken　fugging　liar。
　〃No；　I　swear。〃
　They　had　him　up　against　the　side　of　a　truck。　Bronco。　White。　Rusty　as　hell。　Ford　Bronco；　Winder　thought。　In　case　I　live　through　this。
　In　case　anybody　might　be　interested。
　The　big　goon　spun　Joe　Winder　around　and　pinned　his　arms　while　the　one　named　Angel　slugged　him　on　the　point　of　the　jaw。　Then　he　hit　him　once　in　each　eye。　Winder　felt　his　face　start　to　bloat　and　soften；　like　a　melon　going　bad。　With　any　luck；　total　numbness　would　soon　follow。
　Angel　was　working　up　a　sweat。　Every　time　he　threw　a　punch；　he　let　out　a　sharp　yip；　like　a　poodle。　It　would　have　been　hilarious　except　for　the　pain　that　went　with　it。
　Finally；　Spearmint　Breath　said；　〃I　don't　think　he　knows　jack　shit。〃　Then　he　said　something　in　Spanish。
　Angel　said；　〃Chur　he　does；　the　cokesucker。〃　This　time　he　hit　Joe　Winder　in　the　gut。
　Perfect。　Can't　breathe。　Can't　see。　Can't　talk。
　The　big　goon　let　go；　and　Winder　fell　limp　across　the　hood　of　the