chiaasen.stormyweather-第23部分

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。　The　Highway　Patrol　dispatcher　was　directing　troopers　to　the　intersection　of　U。S。　1　and　Kendall　Drive；　where　a　truck　loaded　with　ice　had　overturned。　A　disturbance　had　erupted；　and　ambulances　were　on　the　way。
　
　〃Lord；〃　Jim　Tile　said。　〃They're　murdering　each　other　over　ice　cubes。〃　He　sped　off　without　saying　good…bye。
　
　Back　in　the　house；　Augustine　was　surprised　to　find　Bonnie　Lamb　sitting　next　to　the　kitchen　phone。　At　her　elbow　was　a　notepad　upon　which　she　had　written　several　lines。　He　was　struck　by　the　elegance　of　her　handwriting。　Once；　he'd　dated　a　woman　who　dotted　her　i's　with　perfect　tiny　circles；　sometimes　she　drew　happy　faces　inside　the　circles；　sometimes　she　drew　frowns。　The　woman　had　been　a　cheerleader　for　her　college　football　team；　and　she　couldn't　get　it　out　of　her　system。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb's　handwriting　bore　no　trace　of　retired　cheerleader。　〃Directions；〃　she　replied；　waving　the　paper。
　
　〃Where？〃
　
　〃To　see　Max　and　this　Skink　person。　They　left　directions　on　my　machine。〃
　
　She　was　excited。　Augustine　sat　next　to　her。　〃What　else　did　they　say？〃
　
　〃No　police。　No　FBI。　Max　was　very　firm　about　it。〃
　
　〃And？〃
　
　〃Four　double…A　batteries　and　a　tape　of　Exile　on　Main　Street。　Dolby　chrome　oxide；　whatever　that　means。　And　a　bottle　of　pitted　green　olives；　no　pimientos。〃
　
　〃This　would　be　the　governor's　shopping　list？〃
　
　〃Max　hates　green　olives。〃　Bonnie　Lamb　put　her　hand　on　Augustine's　arm。　〃What　do　we　do？　You　want　to　hear　the　message？〃
　
　〃Let's　go　talk　to　them；　if　that's　what　they　want。〃
　
　〃Bring　your　gun。　I'm　serious。〃　Her　eyes　flashed。　〃We　can　kidnap　Max　from　the　kidnapper。　Why　not！〃
　
　〃Settle　down；　please。　When's　the　meeting？〃
　
　〃Midnight　tomorrow。〃
　
　〃Where？〃
　
　When　she　told　him；　he　looked　discouraged。　〃They'll　never　show。　Not　there。〃
　
　〃You're　wrong；〃　Bonnie　Lamb　said。　〃Where's　that　gun　of　yours？〃
　
　Augustine　went　to　the　living　room　and　switched　on　the　television。　He　channel…surfed　until　he　found　a　Monty　Python　rerun；　a　classic；　John　Cleese　buying　a　dead　parrot。　It　never　failed　to　make　Augustine　laugh。
　
　Bonnie　sat　beside　him　on　the　sofa。　When　the　Monty　Python　sketch　ended；　he　turned　to　her　and　said；　〃You　don't　know　a　damn　thing　about　guns。〃
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　ELEVEN
　
　
　Max　Lamb　awoke　to　these　words：　〃You　need　a　legacy。〃
　
　He　and　Skink　had　bummed　a　ride　in　the　back　of　a　U…Haul　truck。　They　were　bucking　down　U。S。　Highway　One　among　two　thousand　cans　of　Campbell's　broccoli　cheese　soup；　which　was　being　donated　to　hurricane　victims　by　a　Baptist　church　in　Pascagoula；　Mississippi。　What　the　shipment　lacked　in　variety　it　made　up　for　in　Christian　goodwill。
　
　〃This；〃　said　the　kidnapper；　waving　at　the　soup　boxes；　〃is　what　people　do　for　each　other　in　times　of　catastrophe。　They　give　help。　You；　on　the　other　hand…〃
　
　〃I　said　I　was　sorry。〃
　
　〃…you；　Max；　arrive　with　a　video　camera。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　lit　a　cigaret。　The　governor　had　been　in　a　rotten　mood　all　day。　First　his　favorite　Stones　tape　broke；　then　the　batteries　crapped　out　in　his　Walkman。
　
　Skink　said；　〃The　people　who　gave　this　soup；　they　went　through　Camille。　Please　assure　me　you　know　about　Camille。〃
　
　〃Another　hurricane？〃
　
　〃A　magnificent　shitkicker　of　a　hurricane。　Max；　I　believe　you're　making　progress。〃
　
　The　advertising　man　sucked　apprehensively　on　the　Bronco。　He　said；　〃You　were　talking　about　getting　a　boat。〃
　
　Skink　said；　〃Everyone　ought　to　have　a　legacy。　Something　to　be　remembered　for。　Let's　hear　some　of　your　slogans。〃
　
　〃Not　right　now。〃
　
　〃I　never　see　TV　anymore；　but　some　mercials　I　remember。〃　The　kidnapper　pointed　at　the　canyon　of　red…and…white　soup　cans。　〃'M'm；　m'm　good！'　That　was　a　classic；　no？〃
　
　Unabashedly　Max　Lamb　said；　〃You　ever　hear　of　Plum　Crunchies？　It　was　a　breakfast　cereal。〃
　
　〃A　cereal；〃　said　Skink。
　
　〃　'You'll　go　plum　loco　for　Plum　Crunchies！'〃
　
　The　kidnapper　frowned。　From　his　camo　trousers　he　produced　a　small　felt　box　of　the　type　used　by　jewelry　stores。　He　opened　it　and　removed　a　scorpion；　which　he　placed　on　his　bare　brown　wrist。　The　scorpion　raised　its　fat　claws；　pinching　the　air　in　confusion。　Max　stared　incredulously。　The　skin　on　his　neck　heated　beneath　the　shock　collar。　He　drew　up　his　legs；　preparing　to　spring　from　the　truck　if　Skink　tossed　the　awful　creature　at　him。
　
　〃This　little　sucker；〃　Skink　said；　〃is　from　Southeast　Asia。　Recognized　him　right　away。〃　With　a　pinkie　finger；　he　stroked　the　scorpion　until　it　arched　its　venomous　stinger。
　
　Max　Lamb　asked　how　a　Vietnamese　scorpion　got　all　the　way　to　Florida。　Skink　said　it　was　probably　smuggled　by　importers。　〃Then；　when　the　hurricane　struck；　Mortimer　here　made　a　dash　for　it。　I　found　him　in　the　horse　barn。　Remember　Larks？　'Show　us　your　Larks！'〃
　
　〃Barely。〃　Max　was　a　kid　when　the　Lark　campaign　hit　TV。
　
　Skink　said：　〃That's　what　I　mean　by　legacy。　Does　anyone　remember　who　thought　up　Larks？　But　the　Marl…boro　man；　Christ；　that's　the　most　successful　ad　campaign　in　history。〃
　
　It　was　a　fact。　Max　Lamb　wondered　how　Skink　knew。　He　noticed　that　the　scorpion　had　bee　tangled　in　the　gray…blond　hair　on　the　captain's　arm。
　
　〃What　are　you　going　to　do　with　it？〃　Max　asked。
　
　No　answer。　He　tried　another　strategy。　〃Bonnie　is　deathly　afraid　of　insects。〃
　
　Skink　scooped　the　scorpion　into　the　palm　of　one　hand。　〃This　ain't　no　insect；　Max。　It's　an　arachnid。〃
　
　〃Bugs　is　what　I　meant；　captain。　She's　terrified　of　all　bugs。〃　Max　was　speaking　for　himself。　Icy　needles　of　anxiety　pricked　at　his　arms　and　legs。　He　struggled　to　connect　the　kidnapper's　scorpion　sympathies　with　his　views　of　the　Marlboro　man。　What　was　the　psychopath　trying　to　say？
　
　〃Can　she　swim；　your　Bonnie？　Then　she'll　be　fine。〃　The　governor　popped　the　scorpion　in　his　cheek　and　swallowed　with　an　audible　gulp。
　
　〃Oh　Jesus；〃　said　Max。
　
　After　a　suitable　pause；　Skink　opened　his　mouth。　The　scorpion　was　curled　placidly　on　his　tongue；　its　pincers　at　rest。
　
　Max　Lamb　stubbed　out　the　Bronco　and　urgently　lit　another。　He　leaned　his　head　against　a　crate　of　soup　cans　and　said　a　silent　prayer：　Dear　God；　don't　let　Bonnie　say　anything　to　piss　this　guy　off。
　
　Avila's　career　as　a　county　inspector　was　unremarkable　except　for　the　six　months　when　he　was　the　target　of　a　police　investigation。　The　cops　had　infiltrated　the　building　department　with　an　undercover　man　posing　as　a　supervisor。　The　undercover　man　noticed；　among　a　multitude　of　irregularities；　that　Avila　was　inspecting　new　roofs　at　a　superhuman　rate　of　about　sixty　a　day；　without　benefit　of　a　ladder。　A　surveillance　team　was　put　in　place　and　observed　that　Avila　never　bothered　to　climb　the　roofs　he　was　assigned　to　inspect。　In　fact；　he　seldom　left　his　vehicle　except　for　a　regular　two…hour　buffet　lunch　at　a　nudie　bar　in　Hialeah。　It　was　noted　that　Avila　drove　past　construction　sites　at　such　an　impractical　speed　that　contractors　frequently　had　to　jog　after　his　truck　in　order　to　deliver　their　illicit　gratuities。　The　transactions　were　captured　with　crystal　clarity　on　videotape。
　
　When　the　police　investigation　became　public；　a　grand　jury　convened　to　ponder　the　filing　of　felony　indictments。　To　give　the　appearance　of　concern；　the　building…and…zoning　department　reassigned　Avila　and　several　of　his　crooked　colleagues　to　duties　that　were　considered　low…profile　and　menial；　a　status　confirmed　by　the　relatively　puny　size　of　the　bribes。　In　Avila's　case；　he　was　relegated　to　inspecting　mobile　homes。　It　was　a　job　for　which　he　had　no　qualifications　or　enthusiasm。　Trailers　were　trailers；　to　Avila；　nothing　but　glorified　sardine　cans。　The　notion　of　〃code　enforcement〃　at　a　trailer　park　was　oxymoronic；　none　of　them；　Avila　knew；　would　survive　the　feeblest　of　hurricanes。　Why　go　to　the　trouble　of　tying　the　damn　things　down？
　
　But　he　made　a　show　of　logging　inspections；　taking　what　modest　graft　the　mobile…home　dealers　would　toss　his　way…fifty　bucks　here　and　there；　a　bottle　of　Old　Grand…dad；　porno　tapes；　an　eight…ball　of　coke。　Avila　wasn't　worried　about　police　surveillance　on　his　beat。
　
　Authorities　were　concerned　with　protecting　the　upwardly　mobile　middle…class　home　buyer；　nobody　gave　a　shit　what　happened　to　people　who　bought　trailers。
　
　Except　men　like　Ira　Jackson；　whose　mother　lived　in　one。
　
　With　the　exception　of　the　bus　depot　in　downtown　Guatemala　City；　the　Dade　County　building　department　was　the　most　disorganized　and　institutionally　indifferent　place　that　Ira　Jackson　had　ever　seen。　It　took　ninety　minutes　to　find　a　clerk　who　admitted　to　fluency　in　English；　and　another　hour　to　get　his　hands　on　the　documents　for　the　Suncoast　Leisure　Village　trailer　park。　Under　the　circumstances；　Ira　Jackson　was　mildly　surprised　that　the　file　still　existed。　From　what　he　saw；　others　were　vanishing　by　the　carload。　Realizing　the　hurricane　would　bring　scandal　to　the　construction　industry；　developers；　builders　and　promised　inspectors　were　taking　bold　steps　to　obscure　their　own　roles　in　the　crimes。　As　Ira　Jackson　elbowed　his　way　to　an　empty　chair；　he　recognized…amid　the　truly　aggrieved…faces　of　the　copiously　guilty：　brows　damp；　lips　tight；　eyes　pinched　and　fretful。　They　were　men　who　feared　the　prospect　of　public　exposure；　massive　lawsuits　or　prison。
　
　If　only　it　were　true；　thought　Ira　Jackson。　Experience　had　taught　him　otherwise。　Bozos　who　rob　liquor　stores　go　to　jail；　not　rich　guys　and　bureaucrats　and　civil　servants。
　
　Ira　Jackson　thumbed　through　the　trailer…court　records　until　he　found　the　name　of　the　man　who　had　botched　the　inspection　of　his　mother's　double…wide。　He　fought　his　way　to　the　file　counter　and　cornered　a　harried…looking　clerk；　who　informed　him　that　Mr。　Avila　no　longer　was　employed　by　Dade　County。
　
　Why　not？　Ira　Jackson　asked。
　
　Because　he　quit；　the　clerk　explained；　started　his　own　business。　Since　Ira　Jackson　was　already　agitated；　the　clerk　saw　no　point　in　revealing　that　Avila's　resignation　was　part　of　a　plea…bargain　agreement　with　the　State　Attorney's　Office。　That　was　a　private　matter　that　Mr。　Avila　himself　should　share　with　Mr。　Jackson；　if　he　so　desired。
　
　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃You　got　a　current　address；　right？〃
　
　The　clerk　said　it　was　beyond　his　authority　to　divulge　that　information。　Ira　Jackson　reached　across　th