chiaasen.stormyweather-第58部分

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　〃Give　us　your　goddamn　car；〃　the　man　said。　〃Certainly。〃
　
　〃Don't　stare　at　me　like　that！〃
　
　〃Sorry。〃　The　engineer's　trained　eye　calculated　the　skew　of　the　man's　jawbone　at　thirty…five　degrees　off　center。
　
　〃I　got　one　bullet　left！〃
　
　〃I　believe　you；〃　said　Christophe　Michel。　The　disfigured　gunman　told　him　to　go　back　in　the　store　and　count　backward　from　one　hundred；　slowly。　Michel　asked；　〃May　I　keep　my　suitcase？〃
　
　〃Fuck；　no！〃
　
　〃I　understand。〃
　
　He　was　counting　aloud　as　he　walked　for　the　second　time　into　the　Circle　K。　The　clerk　at　the　register　asked　if　something　was　wrong。　Michel；　fumbling　to　light　a　Bronco；　nodded　explicitly。
　
　〃My　life　savings　just　drove　away；〃　he　said。　〃May　I　borrow　the　telephone？〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　expected　Skink　to　erupt　in　homicidal　fury　upon　seeing　his　best　friend　shot　down。　He　didn't。　Bonnie　worried　about　the　listless　sag　to　his　shoulders；　the　near　feebleness　of　his　movements。　He　wore　the　numb；　unfocused　glaze　of　the　heavily　sedated。　Bonnie　was　sorry　to　see　the　governor's　high　spirits　extinguished。
　
　Meanwhile　Snapper　ranted　and　swore　because　the　Seville　had　no　CD　player；　only　a　tape　deck；　and　here　he'd　gone　to　all　the　goddamn　trouble　of　removing　his　pact　discs　from　the　Jeep　before　they'd　ditched　it　behind　the　convenience　store。
　
　Bonnie　squeezed　Skink's　arm　and　asked　if　he　was　all　right。　He　shifted　his　feet；　and　something　rattled　metallically　on　the　floorboard。　He　picked　it　up　and　asked；　〃What's　this？〃
　
　It　was　a　red　pronged　instrument；　with　a　black　plastic　grip　and　a　chrome　key　lock。
　
　Snapper　looked　over　his　shoulder　and　sniggered。　〃The　Club！〃
　
　〃The　what？〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　said；　〃You　know。　That　thing　they　advertise　all　the　time　on　TV。〃
　
　〃I　watch　no　television；〃　Skink　said。
　
　Snapper　hooted。　〃The　Club；　for　Chrissakes。　The　Club！　See；　you　lock　it　across't　here〃…he　patted　the　steering　wheel…〃so　your　car　don't　get　stolen。〃
　
　〃Really？〃
　
　〃Yeah。　Lotta　good　it　did　that　dickhead　back　at　the　Circle　K。〃　Snapper's　laughter　had　a　ring　of　triumph。
　
　Edie　Marsh　was　struggling　to　collect　herself　after　the　shooting。　Even　in　the　darkness；　Bonnie　could　see　fresh　tears　shining　in　her　eyelashes。
　
　〃I　had　this　boyfriend；〃　Edie　sniffled；　〃he　put　one　of　those　on　his　new　Firebird。　They　got　it　anyway。　Right　out　of　the　driveway；　broad　daylight。　What　they　did；　they　iced　the　lock　and　cracked　it　with　a　hammer。〃
　
　Snapper　said；　〃No　shit？　Froze　it？〃
　
　〃Yeah。〃　Edie　couldn't　e　to　terms　with　what　had　happened　at　the　Paradise　Palms；　the　wrongness　and　maddening　stupidity　of　it。　They'd　never　get　away　now。　Never。　Killing　a　cop！　How　had　a　harmless　insurance　scam　e　so　unhinged？
　
　Skink　was　impressed　with　the　ingenious　simplicity　of　The　Club。　He　took　special　interest　in　the　notched　slide　mechanism；　which　allowed　the　pronged　ends　to　be　fitted　snugly　into　almost　any　large　aperture。
　
　〃See；　that　way　you　can't　turn　the　wheel；〃　Snapper　was　explaining；　still　enjoying　the　irony；　〃so　nobody　can　drive　off　with　your　fancy　new　Cadillac　Seville。　'Less　they　put　a　fuckin'　gun　in　your　ribs。　Ha！　Accept　no　imitations！〃
　
　Skink　set　the　device　down。
　
　〃Accept　no　imitations！〃　Snapper　crowed　again；　waving　the　。357。
　
　The　governor's　gaze　turned　out　the　window；　drifting　again。　Teasingly；　Bonnie　said：　〃I　can't　believe　you've　never　seen　one　of　those。〃
　
　This　time　the　smile　was　sad。　〃I　lead　a　sheltered　life。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　wondered　if　Snapper　could　have　picked　a　dumber　location　to　shoot　a　cop…a　county　of　slender；　connected　islands；　with　only　one　way　out。　She　kept　checking　for　blue　police　lights　behind　them。
　
　Snapper　told　her　to　knock　it　off；　she　was　making　everyone　a　nervous　wreck。　〃Another　half　hour　we're　home　free；〃　he　said；　〃back　on　the　mainland。　Then　we　find　another　car。〃
　
　〃One　with　a　CD　player；　I　bet。〃
　
　〃Damn　right。〃
　
　The　Seville　got　boxed　in　behind　a　slow　beer　truck。　They　wound　up　stopped　at　the　traffic　light　in　Key　Largo。　Again　Edie　snuck　a　peek　behind　them。　Snapper　heard　a　gasp。
　
　〃What！〃　He　spun　his　head。　〃Is　it　cops？〃
　
　〃No。　The　Jeep！〃
　
　〃You're　crazy；　that　ain't　possible…〃
　
　〃Right　behind　us；〃　Edie　said。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　began　to　turn　around；　but　Skink　held　her　shoulder。　The　light　turned　green。　Snapper　floored　the　Seville；　zipped　smartly　between　the　beer　truck　and　a　meandering　Toyota。　He　said：　〃You　crazy　twat；　there's　only　about　a　million　goddamn　black　Jeeps　on　the　road。〃
　
　〃Yeah？〃　Edie　said。　〃With　bullet　holes　in　the　roof？〃　She　could　see　a　bud　of　mushroomed　steel　above　the　passenger　side。
　
　〃Jesus。〃　Snapper　used　the　barrel　of　the　。357　to　adjust　the　rearview　mirror。　〃Jesus；　you　sure？〃
　
　The　Cherokee　was　still　on　their　bumper。　Bonnie　noticed　the　governor　wore　a　faint　smile。　Edie　picked　up　on　it；　too。　She　said；　〃What's　going　on？　Who's　that　behind　us？〃
　
　Skink　shrugged。　Snapper　said：　〃How　'bout　this？　I　don't　care　who's　back　there；　because　he's　already　one　dead　cocksucker。　That's　'zackly　how　many　shots　I　got　left。〃
　
　In　what　seemed　to　Bonnie　as　a　single　fluid　motion；　the　governor　reached　across　the　seat；　wrenched　the　。357　from　Snapper's　hand　and　fired　it　point…blank　into　the　Cadillac's　dashboard。
　
　Then　he　dropped　it　on　Snapper's　lap　and　said：　〃Now　you've　got　jackshit。〃
　
　Snapper　labored　not　to　pile　the　car　into　a　utility　pole。　Edie　Marsh's　ears　rang　from　the　gun　blast；　although　she　wasn't　surprised　by　what　had　happened。　It　had　only　been　a　matter　of　time。　The　smiler　had　been　humoring　them。
　
　One　thought　reverberated　in　Bonnie　Lamb's　head：　What　now？　What　in　the　world　will　he　do　next？
　
　Snapper；　straining　not　to　appear　frightened；　hollering　at　Skink　over　his　shoulder：　〃Try　anything；　anything；　I　fuckin'　swear　we're　all　going　off　a　bridge。　You　unner…stand？　We'll　all　be　dead。〃
　
　〃Eyes　on　the　road；　chief。〃
　
　〃Don't　touch　me；　goddammit！〃
　
　Skink　placed　his　chin　next　to　the　headrest；　inches　from　Snapper's　right　ear。　He　said；　〃That　cop　you　shot；　he　was　a　friend　of　mine。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh's　chin　dropped。　〃Tell　me　it　wasn't　'Jim。'〃
　
　〃It　was。〃
　
　〃Naturally。〃　She　sighed　disconsolately。
　
　〃So　what？〃　Snapper　said。　His　shoulders　bunched。　〃Like　I'm　supposed　to　know。　Fucking　cop's　a　cop。〃
　
　To　Bonnie；　the　social　dynamics　inside　the　carjacked　Seville　were　surreal。　Logically　the　abduction　should　have　ended　once　Snapper's　gun　was　out　of　bullets。　Yet　here　they　were；　riding　along　as　if　nothing　had　changed。　They　might　as　well　be　on　a　double　date。　Stop　for　pizza　and　milk　shakes。
　
　She　said：　〃Can　I　ask　something：　Where　are　we　going？　Is　somebody　in　charge　now？〃
　
　Snapper　said；　〃I　am；　goddammit。　Long　as　I'm　drivin'…〃
　
　He　felt　Edie　jab　him　in　the　side。　〃The　Jeep；〃　she　said；　pointing。　〃Check　it　out。〃
　
　The　black　truck　was　in　the　left　lane；　keeping　speed　with　the　Cadillac。　Snapper　pressed　the　accelerator；　but　the　Jeep　stayed　even。
　
　〃Well；　shit；〃　he　grumbled。　Edie　was　right。　It　was　the　same　truck　they'd　abandoned　ten　minutes　earlier。　Snapper　was　totally　baffled。　Who　could　it　be？
　
　They　watched　the　Cherokee's　front　passenger　window　roll　down。　The　ghost　driver　steered　with　his　left　hand。　His　eyes　were　locked　on　the　highway。　In　the　oning　headlights　Snapper　caught　sight　of　the　man's　face；　which　he　didn't　recognize。　He　did；　however；　note　that　the　stranger　definitely　wasn't　wearing　a　Highway　Patrol　uniform。　The　observation　gave　Snapper　an　utterly　misplaced　sense　of　relief。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　recognized　the　other　driver　immediately。　She　gave　a　clandestine　wave。　So　did　the　governor。
　
　〃What's　going　on！〃　Edie　Marsh　was　on　her　knees；　pointing　and　shouting。　〃What's　going　on！　Who　is　that　sonofabitch！〃
　
　She　was　more　dejected　than　startled　when　the　Jeep's　driver　one…handedly　raised　a　rifle。　By　the　time　Snapper　saw　it；　he'd　already　heard　the　shot。
　
　Pfffttt。　Like　a　kid's　airgun。
　
　Then　a　painful　sting　under　one　ear；　liquid　heat　flooding　down　through　his　arms；　his　chest；　his　legs。　He　went　slack　and　listed　starboard；　mumbling；　〃What　the　full；　what　the　fuh…〃
　
　Skink　said　it　was　a　superb　time　for　Edie　to　assist　at　the　wheel。　〃Take　it　steady；〃　he　added。　〃We're　coasting。〃
　
　Reaching　across　Snapper's　body；　she　anxiously　guided　the　Seville　to　the　gravel　shoulder　of　the　highway。　The　black　Jeep　smoothly　swung　in　ahead　of　them。
　
　Edie　bit　her　lip。　〃I　can't　believe　this。　I　just　can't。〃
　
　〃Me；　neither；〃　said　Bonnie　Lamb。　She　was　out　the　door；　running　toward　Augustine；　before　the　car　stopped　rolling。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…EIGHT
　
　
　Jim　Tile　once　played　tight　end　for　the　University　of　Florida。　In　his　junior　year；　during　the　final　home　game　of　the　season；　a　scrawny　Alabama　cornerback　speared　his　crimson　helmet　full　tilt　into　Jim　Tile's　sternum。　Jim　Tile　held　on　to　the　football　but　pletely　forgot　how　to　breathe。
　
　That's　how　he　felt　now；　lying　in　clammy　rainwater；　staring　up　at　the　worried　face　of　a　platinum…haired　hooker。　The　impact　of　the　shot　had　deflated　Jim　Tile's　lungs；　which　were　screaming　silently　for　air。　The　emergency　lights　of　the　patrol　car　blinked　blue…white…blue　in　the　reflection　in　the　prostitute's　eyes。
　
　Jim　Tile　understood　that　he　couldn't　be　dying…it　only　felt　that　way。　The　asshole's　bullet　wasn't　lodged　in　vital　bronchial　tissue；　it　was　stuck　in　a　layer　of　blessedly　impenetrable　Du　Pont　Kevlar。　Like　most　police　officers；　Jim　Tile　detested　the　vest；　particularly　in　the　summer…　it　was　hot；　bulky；　itchy。　But　he　wore　it　because　he'd　promised　his　mother；　his　nieces；　his　uncle　and　of　course　Brenda；　who　wore　one　of　her　own。　Working　for　the　Highway　Patrol　was　statistically　the　most　dangerous　job　in　law　enforcement。　Naturally　it　also　paid　the　worst。　Only　after　numerous　officers　had　been　gunned　down　were　bulletproof　vests　requisitioned　for　the　state　patrol；　whose　budget　was　so　threadbare　that　the　purchase　was　made　possible　only　by　soliciting　outside　donations。
　
　Long　before　that；　Jim　Tile's　loved　ones　had　decided　he　shouldn't　wait　for　the　state　legislature　to　demonstrate　its　heartfelt　concern　for　police　officers。　The　Kevlar　vest　was　a　family　Christmas　present。　Jim　Tile　didn't　always　wear　it　while　patrolling　rural　parts　of　the　Panhandle；　but　in　Miami　he　would