emb.seethemdie-第11部分
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kids cut out as soon as you hear them bells。 We'll drift up toward the corner around eleven…thirty。 You be ready for us； you hear me？〃
〃Zip； when we grow up； me an' Estaban；〃 Chico said； 〃we coul' go gang…bustin' wi' you？〃
Zip grinned and touched the boy's hair。 〃Sure； when you grow up。 Right now； you have them pieces ready for us when we need them。〃
〃I know how to shoot； Zip；〃 Chico said。 〃I know how to shoot good。〃
Zip laughed aloud。 〃Not this trip； Chico。 You got time yet before you begin。。。〃
The church bells rang suddenly； abruptly； and then were silent。 Whoever was pulling on the cord had made an abortive start； perhaps the cord had slipped from his hands； perhaps he'd had a sudden cramp in his fingers。 The heavy solemn bonnnnng of metal upon metal sounded； reverberated； and then died。 The boys stood in silence； straining for the peal of the bells。 And then the bells started again； ringing out on the still July air； calling the flock to Mass； reaching into the streets and into the open windows； summoning the congregation； summoning Alfredo Gomez to whatever waited for him on the church steps。
〃That's it；〃 Zip said tightly。 He reached beneath his jacket and； one by one； began pulling the weapons from where they were tucked into his belt。 Jeff； in the luncheonette； turned at the sound of the church bells； thinking of China； a smile on his face。 He saw the first weapon pass from Zip's hand to Chico's snot…smeared fist； and he blinked as the other weapons changed hands； watched as the two youngsters tucked them into their waistbands； four guns in all； and then pulled their shirts down over them。
〃Okay； go；〃 Zip said。
The two boys grinned； nodded； and then ran off up the street。 A frown had e onto Jeffs forehead。 He swung his stool around and picked up his cup of coffee。 The church bells had stopped now。 An old man rushed from the mouth of a tenement； paused on the stoop while he pulled on his suit jacket； and then ran spryly up the street。
〃Nice quiet Sunday；〃 Luis said to Jeff； smiling。
Jeff nodded and said nothing。 The four boys in the purple silk jackets had moved to a position near the jukebox。 The street had gone silent again。 It seemed to be a street of many moods and many temperaments； changing in the space of seconds like a vaudeville performer who snaps a wig into place and bees a clown； discards the wig； puts on a black mustache and bees Adolf Hitler。 Now； the street in its sunbath seemed like a golden corridor leading to the high overhead arch of the elevated structure two blocks away； the sky a dazzling yellow…white beyond。 Quiet； burning with light； the street was mute； the street waited。 The boys lounged near the jukebox； their hands in their pockets。 Occasionally they glanced in the direction of the church。 Their eyes were squinted against the reflected sunlight。
The girl turned the corner from the avenue and entered the street like a circus train。 She was wearing a bright…red jacket； a bright…yellow silk shirt； purple spiked…heel shoes with ankle straps。 Her hair was a mass of thick black； sticking out from her head in near…burlesque of a Bushman。 She was carrying a bright…blue carpetbag； and she walked with a suggestive swagger； the yellow skirt tightening over plump； jiggling buttocks； huge breasts jutting from the V…necked opening of the red jacket。 She seemed to be wearing nothing under her outer clothing； and she didn't give a damn who realized it Her buttocks begged to be pinched； her breasts beneath the white rayon blouse and the red jacket pointed sharp nipples like pass needles indicating north。 Her walk did nothing to hide the pulchritude。 This was what she owned； and if she preferred to exhibit her possessions； that was her business。
But despite the suggestive swagger； despite the bobbing breasts and the fluid grinding motion of buttock against buttock； despite an apparent attitude of indifference； the girl seemed frightened and somehow hesitant。 She stared up at the buildings； ogling the city； overwhelmed by the size； somewhat confused and a little lost。
The whistles that came from Zip and Cooch did not help her at all。 She suddenly clutched at the small red jacket in an attempt to close it over her thrusting breasts。 The boys whistled again； and Jeff turned to watch the girl； fascinated by the tautness of the yellow skirt and the bobble of her backside。 The girl began walking faster； just as lost； just as confused； and the whistles followed her up the street until she was out of sight。
Zip began laughing。
And then his laughter stopped when he realized the sailor was laughing too。
〃What was that？〃 Jeff asked。
〃Argh； a Marine Tiger；〃 Luis said。
〃A what？〃
〃Marine Tiger。 Fresh from the island； her first day here probably。 Marine Tiger。 That was the name of one of the first boats to take Puerto Rican immigrants to the mainland。〃
〃Boy； that was really something；〃 Jeff said。
〃Did you see that hair？〃 Luis waved his hands around his head in demonstration。 〃And now she'll ride the subway； and everyone will think all Puerto Ricans are like her。〃 He shook his head。 〃I need more soup out here；〃 he said vaguely and went into the back of the shop。
〃I wouldn't have minded dumping her on her back； huh； sailor？〃 Zip said。
〃Well； she's not exactly my type；〃 Jeff said。 He turned back to the counter。 He did not like talking to this boy； and he did not wish to encourage a friendship which； now that he was sober and now that he had met China； seemed hardly necessary。
〃Not your type； huh？〃 Zip said。 〃What's the matter？ You don't like Spanish girls？〃
〃I didn't say that。〃
Zip lighted a cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke。 He considered his next words carefully。 He did not know why； but the sailor was beginning to annoy him immensely。 At one and the same time； he wanted the sailor to desire a Spanish girl； and yet wanted him to have nothing to do with a Spanish girl。 The conflict disturbed him。 He frowned as he began speaking。
〃I've got a few minutes to kill。 You still interested in a girl； I can fix you up with something real nice。〃
〃I'm not interested；〃 Jeff said。
〃No？〃 The frown got deeper。 〃Why not？ You got something against Puerto Rican girls？〃
〃No。 I'm just not interested any more。〃
〃What'd you e up here for？ A girl； right？〃
〃That's right；〃 Jeff said。
His answer angered Zip。 〃So why won't you let me get you one？〃
〃I told you。 I'm not interested any more。〃
〃Then why are you hanging around here？〃
〃That's my business；〃 Jeff said curtly。
〃If you ain't interested any more； why don't you get out of the neighborhood？〃
〃You ask a lot of questions；〃 Jeff said。
〃Yeah； that's right。 What about it？〃
〃Suppose you answer one；〃 Jeff said。
〃I don't have to an…〃
〃Why'd you pass out those guns？〃
Zip's eyes opened wide。 〃What？〃
〃You handed an arsenal to those two kids。 Who do you plan on shooting？〃
They sat side by side on adjacents stools； Jeffs fists bunched on the counter； Zip's eyes narrowing as the sailor's words penetrated。 The other boys； with the exception of Sixto； had moved away from the jukebox； and advanced towards their leader。
〃You got big eyes； Grandma；〃 Zip said； as he suddenly struck Jeff full in the face with his closed fist。 Jeff； surprised by the blow； tried to maintain his balance on the stool； realized intuitively that it would be a mistake to fall； a mistake to be on the ground。 He clutched for the counter top； but the imbalance was plete and his hand slid over the Formica top as he went over and back； his foot hooked into the stool's rung； the asphalt tile floor ing up to meet his back。 He caught the force of the fall with his shoulder blades； snapping his head so that it wouldn't collide with the floor。 He was struggling to get his foot free of the rung when the first kick exploded against the side of his head。
He brought up his hands instinctively； trying to free his foot； squirming to get his foot loose from this ridiculously foolish position； and the second kick caught him in the rib cage； and he felt all the breath in his body escape from his mouth in a grunt； and then another kick caught the side of his neck； and now the kicks were ing with methodical precision and his foot was still hooked into that goddamn rung； a boot connected with his right eye and he felt shocking； stabbing pain and then the warmth of blood and he thought I'm going to be kicked to death on the floor of this goddamn luncheonette and then he heard Luis shouting； 〃What are you doing？ Bastards； what are you doing？〃 And above that； or beyond it； around it； circling it； filling the air； the high penetrating wail of a police siren。
8
Hernandez had seen this apartment before； had been inside it。 Not this one； exactly； but countless others like it in buildings of the precinct This could have been the very apartment he had lived in as a boy。
The front door opened into the kitchen。 There was the usual police lock； the first plate screwed to the door； the second plate embedded in the floor； and the unbending steel bar which； when wedged into its triangular place between the two； made forcible entry impossible。 A window was at the far end of the kitchen。 It opened on the interior shaftway of the tenement。 There was linoleum on the kitchen floor； a spatter pattern。 It had been scrubbed clean but left unwaxed。 It had worn through in patches near the door； the icebox； and the stove。 A white enamel…topped table was on the wall opposite the stove。 A picture of Jesus in supplication was above the table。 The walls were painted a pale green； but the grime of countless meals in preparation had worn itself into the walls so that the green seemed darker； bile…like。 The paint； too； was beginning to flake off in several places on the walls and on the ceiling。 A toaster was on the table。 A plastic shield covered it。 The room seemed shoddy but clean。 It was a room he remembered well。
On winter days； when he was a boy； he would sit on the floor by the stove； playing with his soldiers on the clean worn linoleum。 His mother had miraculously managed to cook her meals with him underfoot。 The smells of arroz con potto would fill the kitchen； and it was cozy by the stove where he endowed each of his metal men wit
