thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第15部分

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the　Big　puter　hsdn't　mixed　me　yet；　so　I　was　still　a　fat　gold　credit　risk。
　　Later；　looking　back　on　this　transaction；　I　knew　the　conversation　that　had　almost　certainly　etisued：　〃Hello。　This　is　VIP　car…rentals　in　Las　Vegas。　We're　calling　to　check　on　Number　875…045…6169。　Just　a　routine　credit　check；　nothing　urgent。。。（Long　pause　at　the　other　end。　Then：）　〃Holy　shit！〃
　　〃What？〃
　　〃Pardon　me。。。　Yes；　we　have　that　number。　It's　been　placed　on　emergency　redline　status。　Call　the　police　at　once　and　don't　let　him　out　of　your　sight！〃　（Another　long　pause）　〃Well。。。ah。。。you　see；　that　number　is　not　on　our　current　Red　List；　and。。。ah。。。Number875…045…616…B　just　left　our　lot　in　a　new　Cadillac　convertible。〃
　　〃No！〃
　　〃Yes。　He's　long　gone；　totally　insured。〃
　　〃Where？〃
　　〃I　think　he　said　St。　Louis。　Yes；　that's　what　the　card　says。
　　Raoul　Duke；　leftfielder　&　batting　champion　of　the　St。　Loui　sBrowns。　Five　days　at　25　per；　plus　twenty…five　cents　a　mile。His　card　was　valid；　so　of　course　we　had　no　choice。。。This　is　true。　The　car　rental　agency　had　no　legal　reason　to　hassle　me；　since　my　card　was　technically　valid。　During　the　next　four　days　I　drove　that　car　all　over　Las　Vegas…even　the　VIP　agency's　main　office　on　Paradise　Boulevard　several　times…and　at　no　time　was　I　bothered　by　any　show　of　rudeness。
　　This　is　one　of　the　hallmarks　of　Vegas　hospitality。　The　only　bedrock　rule　is　Don't　Burn　the　Locals。　Beyond　that；　nobody　cares。　They　would　rather　not　know。　If　Charlie　Manson　checked　into　the　Sahara　tomorrow　morning；　nobody　would　hassle　him　as　long　as　he　tipped　big。
　　
　　I　drove　straight　to　the　hotel　after　renting　the　car。　There　was　still　no　sign　of　my　attorney；　so　I　decided　to　check　in　on　my　own…if　only　to　get　off　the　street　and　avoid　a　public　breakdown。　I　left　the　Whale　in　a　VIP　parking　slot　and　shambled　self…consciously　into　the　lobby　with　one　small　leather　bag…a　hand…crafted；　custom…built　satchel　that　had　just　been　made　for　me　by　a　leathersmith　friend　in　Boulder。
　　Our　room　was　at　the　Flamingo；　in　the　nerve…center　of　theStrip：　right　across　the　street　from　Caesar's　Palace　and　the　Dunes…site　of　the　Drug　Conference。　The　bulk　of　the　conferees　were　staying　at　the　Dunes；　but　those　of　us　who　signed　up　fashionably　late　were　assigned　to　the　Flamingo。
　　The　place　was　full　of　cops。　I　saw　this　at　a　glance。　Most　of　them　were　just　standing　around　trying　to　look　casual；　all　dressed　exactly　alike　in　their　cut…rate　Vegas　casuals：　plaid　bermuda　shorts；　Arnie　Palmer　golf　shirts　and　hairless　white　legs　tapering　down　to　rubberized　〃beach　sandals。〃　It　was　a　terrifying　scene　to　walk　into…a　super　stakeout　of　some　kind。　If　I　hadn't　known　about　the　conference　my　mind　might　have　snapped。　You　got　the　impression　that　somebody　was　going　to　be　gunned　down　in　a　blazing　crossfire　at　any　moment…maybe　the　entire　Manson　Family。
　　My　arrival　was　badly　timed。　Most　of　the　national　DAs　and　other　cop…types　had　already　checked　in。　These　were　the　people　who　now　stood　around　the　lobby　and　stared　grimly　at　newers。　What　appeared　to　be　the　Final　Stakeout　was　only　about　two　hundred　vacationing　cops　with　nothing　better　to　do。　They　didn't　even　notice　each　other。
　　I　waded　up　to　the　desk　and　got　in　line。　The　man　in　front　of　me　was　a　Police　Chief　from　some　small　town　in　Michigan。　His　Agnew…style　wife　was　standing　about　three　feet　off　to　his　right　while　he　argued　with　the　desk　clerk：　〃Look；　fella…I　told　you　I　have　a　postcard　here　that　says　I　have　reservations　in　this　hotel。　Hell；　I'm　with　the　District　Attorneys'　Conference！　I've　already　paid　for　my　room。〃
　　〃Sorry；　sir。　You're　on　the　'late　list。'　Your　reservations　were　transferred　to　the。。。ah。。。Moonlight　Motel；　which　is　out　on　Paradise　Boulevard　and　actually　a　very　fine　place　of　lodging　and　only　sixteen　blocks　from　here；　with　its　own　pool　and。。。
　　〃You　dirty　little　faggot！　Call　the　manager！　I'm　tired　of　listening　to　this　dogshit！〃　The　manager　appeared　and　offered　to　call　a　cab。　This　was　obviously　the　second　or　maybe　even　the　third　act　in　a　cruel　drama　that　had　begun　long　before　I　showed　up。　The　police　chief's　wife　was　crying；　the　gaggle　of　friends　that　he'd　mustered　for　support　were　too　embarrassed　to　back　him　up…even　now；　in　this　showdown　at　the　desk；　with　this　angry　little　cop　firing　his　best　and　final　shot。　They　knew　he　was　beaten；　he　was　going　against　the　RULES；　and　the　people　hired　to　enforce　those　rules　said　〃no　vacancy。
　　After　ten　minutes　of　standing　in　line　behind　this　noisy　little　asshole　and　his　friends；　I　felt　the　bile　rising。　Where　did　this　cop…of　all　people…get　the　nerve　to　argue　with　anybody　in　terms　of　Right　&　Reason？　I　had　been　there　with　these　fuzzy　shitheads…and　so；　I　sensed；　had　the　desk　clerk。　He　had　airof　a　man　who'd　been　fucked　around；　in　his　time；　by　a　good　cross…section　of　mean…tempered　rule…crazy　now　he　was　just　giving　their　argument　back　to　them：　It　didn't　matter　who's　right　or　wrong；　man。。。or　who's　paid　&　who　hasn't。。。what　matters　right　now　is　that　for　at　time　in　my　life　I　can　work　out　on　a　pig：　〃Fuck　you；　I'm　in　charge　here；　and　I'm　telling　you　we　don't　have　for　you。〃　I　was　enjoying　this　whipsong；　but　after　a　while　I　felt　dizzy；　nervous；　and　my　impatience　got　the　better　of　my　amusement。　So　I　stepped　around　the　Pig　and　spoke　directly　to　the　desk　clerk…〃Say；〃　I　said；　〃I　hate　to　interrupt；　but　I　have　a　reservation　and　I　wonder　if　maybe　I　could　just　sort　of　slide　through　and　get　out　of　your　way。〃　I　smiled；　letting　him　know　I'd　been　digging　his　snake…bully　act　on　the　cop　party　that　was　now　standing　there；　psychologically　off…balance　and　staring　at　me　like　I　was　some　kind　of　water…rat　crawling　up　to　the　desk。
　　I　looked　pretty　bad：　wearing　old　Levis　and　white　Chuck　Taylor　All…Star　basketball　sneakers。。。and　my　ten…peso　Acapulco　shirt　had　long　since　e　apart　at　the　shoulder　seams　from　all　that　road…wind。　My　beard　was　about　three　days　old；　bordering　on　standard　wino　trim；　and　my　eyes　were　totally　hidden　by　Sandy　Bull's　Saigon…mirror　shades。
　　But　my　voice　had　the　tone　of　a　man　who　knows　he　has　a　reservation。　I　was　gambling　on　my　attorney's　foresightbut　I　couldn't　pass　a　chance　to　put　the　horn　into　a　cop：and　I　was　right。　The　reservation　was　in　my　attorney's　name。　The　desk　…　clerk　hit　his　bell　to　summon　the　bag…boy。　〃This　is　all　I　have　with　me；　right　now；〃　I　said；　〃The　rest　is　out　there　in　that　white　Cadillac　convertible。〃　I　pointed　to　the　car　that　we　could　all　see　parked　just　outside　the　front　door。　〃Can　you　have　somebody　drive　it　around　to　the　room？〃　The　desk…clerk　was　friendly。　〃Don't　worry　about　a　thing；　sir。　Just　enjoy　your　stay　here…and　if　there's　anything　you　need；　just　call　the　desk。〃　I　nodded　and　smiled；　half…watching　the　stunned　reaction　of　the　cop…crowd　right　next　to　me。　They　were　stupid　with　shock。　Here　they　were　arguing　with　every　piece　of　leverage　they　could　mand；　for　a　room　they'd　already　paid　for…and　suddenly　their　whole　act　gets　side…swiped　by　some　crusty　drifter　who　looks　like　something　out　of　an　upper…Michigan　hobo　jungle。　And　he　checks　in　with　a　handful　of　credit　cards！　Jesus！　What's　happening　in　this　world？
　　
　　　3。　Savage　Lucy。。。〃Teeth　Like　Baseballs；　Eyes　Like　Jellied　Fire〃
　　
　　I　gave　my　bag　to　the　boy　who　scurried　up；　and　told　him　to　bring　a　quart　of　Wild　Turkey　and　two　fifths　of　Bacardi　Anejo　with　a　night's　worth　of　ice。
　　Our　room　was　in　one　of　the　farthest　wings　of　the　Flamingo。　The　place　is　far　more　than　a　hotel：　It　is　a　sort　of　huge　underfinanced　Playboy　Club　in　the　middle　of　the　desert。　Something　like　nine　separate　wings；　with　interconnecting　causeways　and　pools…a　vast　plex；　sliced　up　by　a　maze　of　car…ramps　and　driveways。　It　took　me　about　twenty　minutes　to　wander　from　the　desk　to　the　distant　wing　we'd　been　assigned　to。
　　My　idea　was　to　get　into　the　room；　accept　the　booze　and　baggage　delivery；　then　smoke　my　last　big　chunk　of　Singapore　Grey　while　watching　Walter　Cronkite　and　waiting　for　my　attorney　to　arrive。　I　needed　this　break；　this　moment　of　peace　and　refuge；　before　we　did　the　Drug　Conference。　It　was　going　to　be　quite　a　different　thing　from　the　Mint　400。　That　had　been　observer　gig；　but　this　one　would　need　participation…and　a　special　stance：　At　the　Mint　400　we　were　dealing　with　anessentially　simpatico　crowd；　and　if　our　behavior　was　gross　outrageous。。。well；　it　was　only　a　matter　of　degree。this　time　our　very　presence　would　be　an　outrage。　We　be　attending　the　conference　under　false　pretenses　and　from　the　start；　with　a　crowd　that　was　convened　for　d　purpose　of　putting　people　like　us　in　jail。　We　were　the　Menace…not　in　disguise；　but　stone…obvious　drug　abusers；　with　a　flagrantly　cranked…up　act　that　we　intended　to　push　all　the　way　to　the　limit。。。not　to　prove　any　final；　sociological　point；　and　not　even　as　a　conscious　mockery：　It　was　mainly　a　matter　of　life…style；　a　sense　of　obligation　and　even　duty。　If　the　Pigs　were　gathering　in　Vegas　for　a　top…level　Drug　Conference；　we　felt　the　drug　culture　should　be　represented。
　　Beyond　that；　I'd　been　out；　of　my　head　for　so　long　now；　that　a　gig　like　this　seemed　perfectly　logical。　Considering　the　circumstances；　I　felt　totally　meshed　with　my　karma。
　　
　　Or　at　least　I　was　feeling　this　way　until　I　got　to　the　big　grey　door　that　opened　into　Mini…Suite　1150　in　the　Far　Wing。　I　rammed　my　key　into　the　knob…lock　and　swung　the　door　open；　thinking；　〃Ah；　home　at　last！〃。。。but　the　door　hit　something；　which　I　recognized　at　once　as　a　human　form：　a　girl　of　indeterminate　age　with　the　face　and　form　of　a　Pit　Bull。　She　was　wearing　a　shapeless　blue　smock　and　her　eyes　were　angry。。。
　　Somehow　I　knew　that　I　had　the　right　room。　I　wanted　to　think　otherwise；　but　the　vibes　were　hopelessly　right。。。and　she　seemed　to　know；　too；　because　she　made　no　move　to　stop　me　when　I　moved　past　her　and　into　the　suite。　I　tossed　my　leather　satchel　on　one　of　the　beds　and　looked　around　for　what　I　knew　I　would　see。。。my　attorney　。。　。　stark　naked；　standing　in　the　bathroom　door　with　a　drug…addled　grin　on　his　face。
　　〃You　degenerate　pig；〃　I　muttered。
　　〃It　can't　be　helped；〃　he　said；　nodding　at　the　bulldog　girl。　〃This　is　Lucy。〃　He　laughed　distractedly。　〃You　know…like　Lucy　in　the　sky　with　diamonds　。　。
　　I　nodded　to　Lucy；　who　was　eyeing　me　with　definite　venom。　I　was　clearly　some　kind　of　enemy；　some　ugly　intrusion　on　her　scene。。。and　it　was　clear　from　the　way　she　moved　around