chiaasen.stormyweather-第6部分

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s。
　
　Meanwhile　Augustine　scrambled　to　locate　a　buyer　for　the　animals；　somebody　qualified　to　take　good　care　of　them。　Augustine　was　so　preoccupied　with　the　task　that　he　didn't　pay　enough　attention　to　news　reports　of　a　tropical　storm　intensifying　in　the　Caribbean。　Even　when　it　bloomed　into　a　hurricane；　and　Augustine　saw　the　weather　bulletin　on　television；　he　assumed　it　would　do　what　most　storms　did　in　late　summer…veer　north；　away　from　South　Florida；　on　the　prevailing　Atlantic　steering　currents。
　
　Once　it　became　clear　that　the　hurricane　would　strike　southern　Dade　County　with　a　direct　hit；　Augustine　had　little　time　to　act。　He　was　grimly　aware　what　sustained　one…hundred…mile…per…hour　winds　would　do　to　his　dead　uncle's　shabby　farm。　He　spent　the　morning　and　afternoon　on　the　telephone；　trying　to　find　a　secure　location　for　the　animals。　Interest　invariably　dropped　off　at　the　mention　of　a　Cape　buffalo。　At　dusk　Augustine　drove　out　to　fasten　tarps　and　tie…downs　on　the　cages　and　pens。　Sensing　the　advancing　storm；　the　bears　and　big　cats　paced　nervously；　growling　in　agitation。　The　parrots　were　in　a　panic；　the　frenetic　squawking　attracted　several　large　hawks　to　the　nearby　pines。　Augustine　stayed　two　hours　and　decided　it　was　hopeless。　He　sent　the　Mexicans　home　and　drove　to　a　nearby　Red　Cross　shelter　to　wait　out　the　storm。
　
　When　he　returned　at　dawn；　the　place　was　destroyed。　The　fencing　was　strewn　like　holiday　tinsel　across　the　property。　The　corrugated　roofing　had　been　peeled　off　the　pound　like　a　sardine　tin。　Except　for　a　dozen　befuddled　turtles；　all　his　uncle's　wild　animals　had　escaped　into　the　scrub　and　marsh　and；　inevitably；　the　Miami　suburbs。　As　soon　as　phone　service　was　restored；　Augustine　notified　the　police　what　had　happened。　The　dispatcher　laconically　estimated　it　would　be　five　or　six　days　before　an　officer　could　be　spared；　because　everybody　was　working　double　shifts　after　the　hurricane。　When　Augustine　asked　how　far　a　Gaboon　viper　could　travel　in　five　or　six　days；　the　dispatcher　said　she'd　try　to　send　somebody　out　there　sooner。
　
　Augustine　couldn't　just　sit　and　wait。　The　radio　said　a　troop　of　storm…addled　monkeys　had　invaded　a　residential　subdivision　off　Quail　Roost　Drive；　only　miles　from　the　farm。　Augustine　immediately　loaded　the　truck　with　his　uncle's　dart　rifle；　two　long…handled　nooses；　a　loaded　。38　Special；　and　a　five…pound　bag　of　soggy　monkey　chow。
　
　He　didn't　know　what　else　to　do。
　
　Canvassing　the　neighborhood　in　search　of　her　husband；　Bonnie　Lamb　encountered　the　dull…eyed　boy　with　the　broken　bicycle。　His　description　of　the　tourist　jerk　with　the　video　camera　fit　Max　too　well。
　
　〃He　ran　after　the　monkey；〃　the　boy　said。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　said；　〃What　monkey？〃
　
　The　boy　explained。　Bonnie　assessed　the　information　calmly。　〃Which　way　did　they　go？〃　The　boy　pointed。　Bonnie　thanked　him　and　offered　to　help　pry　his　bicycle　off　the　tree。　The　boy　turned　away；　so　she　walked　on。
　
　Bonnie　was　puzzled　by　the　monkey　story；　but　most　of　the　questions　clouding　her　mind　concerned　Max　Lamb's　character。　How　could　a　man　wander　off　and　forget　about　his　new　wife？　Why　was　he　so　fascinated　with　the　hurricane　ruins？　How　could　he　so　cruelly　intrude　on　the　suffering　of　those　who　lived　here？
　
　During　two　years　of　courtship；　Max　had　never　seemed　insensitive。　At　times　he　could　be　immature　and　self…centered；　but　Bonnie　had　never　known　a　man　who　wasn't。　In　general；　Max　was　a　responsible　and　attentive　person；　more　than　just　a　hard　worker；　an　achiever。　Bonnie　appreciated　that；　as　her　two　previous　boyfriends　had　taken　a　casual　approach　to　the　concept　of　full…time　employment。　Max　impressed　her　with　his　seriousness　and　mitment；　his　buoyant　determination　to　attain　professional　success　and　financial　security。　At　thirty；　Bonnie　was　at　a　point　in　life　where　she　liked　the　prospect　of　security；　she　was　tired　of　worrying　about　money；　and　about　men　who　had　none。　Beyond　that；　she　truly　found　Max　Lamb　attractive。　He　wasn't　exceptionally　handsome　or　romantic；　but　he　was　sincere…boyishly；　pletely；　relentlessly　sincere。　His　earnestness；　even　in　bed；　was　endearing。　This　was　a　man　Bonnie　thought　she　could　trust。
　
　Until　today；　when　he　started　acting　like　a　creep。
　
　The　predawn　expedition　to　Miami　seemed；　at　first；　a　honeymoon　lark…Max's　way　of　showing　his　bride　that　he　could　be　as　wild　and　impulsive　as　her　old　boyfriends。　Against　her　best　instincts；　Bonnie　played　along。　She　felt　sure　that　seeing　the　hurricane's　terrible　destruction　would　end　Max's　documentary　ambitions；　that　he'd　put　down　the　camera　and　join　the　volunteer　relief　workers；　who　were　arriving　by　the　busload。
　
　But　he　didn't。　He　kept　taping；　being　more　and　more　excited；　until　Bonnie　Lamb　could　no　longer　bear　it。　When　he　asked　her　to　operate　the　camera　while　he　posed　on　an　overturned　station　wagon；　Bonnie　nearly　slugged　him。　She　quit　tagging　after　Max　because　she　didn't　want　to　be　seen　with　him。　Her　own　husband。
　
　In　one　gutted　house　she　spotted　an　old　woman；　her　mother's　age；　stepping　through　splintered　bedroom　furniture。　The　woman　was　calling　the　name　of　a　pet　kitten；　which　had　disappeared　in　the　storm。　Bonnie　Lamb　offered　to　help　search。　The　cat　didn't　turn　up；　but　Bonnie　did　find　the　old　woman's　wedding　album；　beneath　a　shattered　mirror。　Bonnie　cleared　the　broken　glass　and　retrieved　the　album；　damp　but　not　ruined。　Bonnie　opened　it　to　the　date　of　inscription：　December　11；　1949。　When　the　old　woman　saw　the　album；　she　broke　down　in　Bonnie's　arms。　With　a　twinge　of　shame；　Bonnie　glanced　around　to　make　sure　that　Max　wasn't　secretly　filming　them。　Then　she　began　to　cry；　too。
　
　Later；　resolved　to　confront　her　husband；　Bonnie　Lamb　went　to　find　him。　If　he　refused　to　put　away　that　stupid　camera；　she　would　demand　the　keys　to　the　rental　car。　It　promised　to　be　the　first　hard　test　of　the　new　marriage。
　
　Two　hours　passed　with　no　sign　of　Max；　and　Bonnie's　anger　dissolved　into　worry。　The　tale　told　by　the　boy　with　the　broken　bicycle　ordinarily　would　have　been　ical；　but　Bonnie　took　it　as　further　evidence　of　Max's　reckless　obsession。　He　was　afraid　of　animals；　even　hamsters；　a　condition　he　blamed　on　an　unspecified　childhood　trauma；　to　boldly　pursue　a　wild　monkey　was　definitely　out　of　character。　On　the　other　hand；　Max　loved　that　damn　Handycam。　More　than　once　he'd　reminded　Bonnie　that　it　had　cost　seven　hundred　dollars；　mail　order　from　Hong　Kong。　She　could　easily　envision　him　chasing　a　seven…hundred…dollar　investment　down　the　street。　She　could　even　envision　him　strangling　the　monkey　for　it；　if　necessary。
　
　Another　squall　came；　and　Bonnie　cursed　mildly　under　her　breath。　There　wasn't　much　left　standing；　in　the　way　of　shelter。　She　felt　a　shiver　as　the　raindrops　ran　d'own　her　neck；　and　decided　to　return　to　the　rental　car　and　wait　for　Max　there。　Except　she　wasn't　sure　where　the　car　was　parked…without　street　signs　or　mailboxes；　every　block　of　the　destroyed　subdivision　looked　the　same。　Bonnie　Lamb　was　lost。
　
　She　saw　the　helicopters　wheeling　overhead；　heard　the　chorus　of　sirens　in　the　distance；　yet　on　the　streets　of　the　neighborhood　there　were　no　policemen；　no　soldiers；　no　proper　authority　to　which　a　missing　husband　could　be　reported。　Exhausted；　Bonnie　sat　on　a　curb。　To　keep　dry；　she　tried　to　balance　a　large　square　of　plywood　over　her　head。　A　gust　of　wind　got　under　the　board　and　pulled　Bonnie　over　backward；　as　she　went　down；　a　corner　of　the　board　struck　her　sharply　on　the　forehead。
　
　She　lay　there　stunned　for　several　moments；　staring　at　the　muddy　sky；　blinking　the　raindrops　from　her　eyes。　A　man　appeared；　standing　over　her。　He　wore　a　small　rifle　slung　on　one　shoulder。
　
　〃Let　me　help；〃　he　said。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　allowed　him　to　lift　her　from　the　wet　grass。　She　noticed　her　blouse　was　soaked；　and　shyly　folded　her　arms　across　her　breasts。　The　man　retrieved　the　plywood　board　and　braced　it　at　a　generous　angle　against　a　concrete　utility　pole。　There　he　and　Bonnie　Lamb　took　shelter　from　the　slashing　rain。
　
　The　man　was　in　his　early　thirties；　with　good　shoulders　and　tanned；　strong…looking　arms。　He　had　short　brown　hair；　a　sharp　chin　and　friendly　blue　eyes。　He　wore　Rockport　hiking　shoes；　which　gave　Bonnie　a　sense　of　relief。　She　couldn't　imagine　a　psychopathic　sex　killer　choosing　Rockports。
　
　〃Do　you　live　around　here？〃　she　asked。
　
　The　man　shook　his　head。　〃Coral　Gables。〃
　
　〃Is　the　gun　loaded？〃
　
　〃Sort　of；〃　the　man　said；　without　elaborating。
　
　〃My　name　is　Bonnie。〃
　
　〃I'm　Augustine。〃
　
　〃What　are　you　doing　out　here？〃　she　asked。
　
　〃Believe　it　or　not；〃　he　said；　〃I'm　looking　for　my　monkeys。〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　smiled。　〃What　a　coincidence。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　woke　up　with　a　headache　that　was　about　to　get　worse。　He　found　himself　stripped　to　his　underwear　and　bound　to　a　pine　tree。　The　tall　man　with　the　glass　eye；　the　man　who'd　snatched　him　off　the　street　as　if　he　were　a　wayward　toddler；　was　thrashing　and　flopping　in　a　leafy　clearing　by　the　campfire。　When　the　impressive　seizure　ended；　the　kidnapper　gathered　himself　in　a　lotus　position。　Max　Lamb　noticed　a　thick　black　collar　around　the　man's　neck。　In　one　hand　he　held　a　shiny　cylinder　that　reminded　Max　of　a　remote　control　for　a　model　car。　The　cylinder　had　a　short　rubber　antenna　and　three　colored　buttons。
　
　The　one…eyed　man　was　mumbling：　〃Too　much　juice；　too　much。。。〃　He　wore　a　cheap　plastic　shower　cap　on　his　head。　Max　would　have　assumed　he　was　a　street　person；　except　for　the　teeth；　the　kidnapper　displayed　outstanding　orthodontics。
　
　He　seemed　unaware　that　his　captive　was　observing　him。　Deliberately　the　man　extended　both　legs　to　brace　himself；　inhaled　twice　deeply；　then　pushed　a　red　burton　on　the　remote…control　cylinder。　Instantly　his　body　began　to　jerk　like　an　enormous　broken　puppet。　Max　Lamb　watched　helplessly　as　the　stranger　writhed　through　the　leaves　toward　the　fire。　His　boots　were　in　the　flames　when　the　fit　finally　ended。　Then　the　man　rose　with　a　startling　swiftness；　stomping　his　huge　feet　until　the　soles　cooled。
　
　One　hand　went　to　his　neck。　〃By　God；　that's　better。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　concluded　it　was　a　nightmare；　and　shut　his　eyes。　When　he　opened　them　again；　much　later；　he　saw　that　the　campfire　was　freshly　stoked。　The　one…eyed　kidnapper　crouched　nearby；　now　his　neck　was　bare。　He　was　feeding　Ore