dk.solesurvivor-第5部分

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and　purpose。　Everyone　avoided　it…some　with　amusement；　some　with　disgust　or　indifference。
　　After　he　had　used　a　urinal；　as　he　washed　his　hands；　Joe　studied　the　other　men　in　the　mirror；　seeking　a　conspirator。　He　settled　on　a　long…haired　fourteen…year…old　in　swim　trunks　and　sandals。
　　When　the　boy　went　to　the　paper…towel　dispenser；　Joe　followed；　took　a　few　towels　immediately　after　him；　and　said；　'Outside；　there　might　be　a　couple　of　cop　types　hanging　out；　waiting　for　me。'
　　The　boy　met　his　eyes　but　didn't　say　anything；　just　kept　drying　his　hands　on　the　paper　towels。
　　Joe　said；　'I'll　give　you　twenty　Blicks　to　reconnoitre　for　me；　then　e　back　and　tell　me　where　they　are。'
　　The　kid's　eyes　were　the　purple…blue　shade　of　a　fresh　bruise；　and　his　stare　was　as　direct　as　a　punch。　'Thirty　Blicks。'
　　Joe　could　not　remember　having　been　able　to　look　so　boldly　and　challengingly　into　an　adult's　eyes　when　he　himself　had　been　fourteen。　Approached　by　a　stranger　with　an　offer　like　this；　he　would　have　shaken　his　head　and　left　quickly。
　　'Fifteen　now　and　fifteen　when　I　e　back；'　said　the　kid。
　　Wadding　his　paper　towels　and　tossing　them　in　the　trash　can；　Joe　said；　'Ten　now；　twenty　when　you　e　back。'
　　'Deal。'
　　As　he　took　his　wallet　from　his　pocket；　Joe　said；　'One　is　about　six　two；　tan；　blond；　in　a　green　Hawaiian　shirt。　The　other　is　maybe　five　ten；　brown　hair；　balding；　pale；　in　a　red　and　orange　Hawaiian。'
　　The　kid　took　the　ten…dollar　bill　without　breaking　eye　contact。　'Maybe　this　is　jive；　there's　nobody　like　that　outside；　and　when　I　e　back；　you　want　me　to　go　into　one　of　those　stalls　with　you　to　get　the　other　twenty。'
　　
　　Joe　was　embarrassed；　not　for　being　suspected　of　paedophilia　but　for　the　kid；　who　had　grown　up　in　a　time　and　a　place　that　required　him　to　be　so　knowledgeable　and　street　smart　at　such　a　young　age。　'No　jive。'
　　〃Cause　I　don't　jump　that　way。'
　　'Understood。'
　　At　least　a　few　of　the　men　present　must　have　heard　the　exchange；　but　none　appeared　to　be　interested。　This　was　a　live　and　let　live　age。
　　As　the　kid　turned　to　leave；　Joe　said；　'They　won't　be　waiting　right　outside；　easy　to　spot。　They'll　be　at　a　distance；　where　they　can　see　the　place　but　aren't　easily　seen　themselves。'
　　Without　responding；　the　boy　went　to　the　door；　sandals　clacking　against　the　floor　tiles。
　　'You　take　my　ten　Blicks　and　don't　e　back；'　Joe　warned；　'I'll　find　you　and　kick　your　ass。'
　　'Yeah；　right；'　the　kid　said　scornfully；　and　then　he　was　gone。
　　Returning　to　one　of　the　rust…stained　sinks；　Joe　washed　his　hands　again　so　he　wouldn't　appear　to　be　loitering。
　　Three　men　in　their　twenties　had　gathered　to　watch　the　crippled　cockroach；　which　was　still　chasing　itself　around　one　small　portion　of　the　lavatory　floor。　The　beetle's　track　was　a　circle　twelve　inches　in　diameter。　It　twitched　brokenly　along　that　circumference　with　such　insectile　single…mindedness　that　the　men；　hands　full　of　dollar　bills；　were　placing　bets　on　how　fast　it　would　plete　each　lap。
　　Bending　over　the　sink；　Joe　splashed　handfuls　of　cold　water　in　his　face。　The　astringent　taste　and　smell　of　chlorine　was　in　the　water；　but　any　sense　of　cleanliness　that　it　provided　was　more　than　countered　by　a　stale；　briny　stink　wafting　out　of　the　open　drain。
　　The　building　wasn't　well　ventilated。　The　still　air　was　hotter　than　the　day　outside；　reeking　of　urine　and　sweat　and　disinfectant；　so　noxiously　thick　that　breathing　it　was　beginning　to　sicken　him。
　　The　kid　seemed　to　be　taking　a　long　time。
　　Joe　splashed　more　water　in　his　face　and　then　studied　his　beaded；　dripping　reflection　in　the　streaked　mirror。　In　spite　of　his　tan　and　the　new　pinkness　from　the　sun　that　he　had　absorbed　in　the　past　hour；　he　didn't　look　healthy。　His　eyes　were　grey；　as　they　had　been　all　his　life。　Once；　however；　it　had　been　the　bright　grey　of　polished　iron　or　wet　indulines；　now　it　was　the　soft　dead　grey　of　ashes；　and　the　whites　were　bloodshot。
　　A　fourth　man　had　joined　the　cockroach　handicappers。　He　was　in　his　mid…fifties；　thirty　years　older　than　the　other　three　but　trying　to　be　one　of　them　by　matching　their　enthusiasm　for　pointless　cruelty　and　sophomoric　humour。　The　gamblers　had　bee　an　obstruction　to　the　restroom　traffic。　They　were　getting　rowdy；　laughing　at　the　spasmodic　progress　of　the　insect；　urging　it　on　as　though　it　were　a　thoroughbred　pounding　across　turf　toward　a　finish　line。　'Go；　go；　go；　go；　go！'　They　noisily　debated　whether　its　pair　of　quivering　antenna　were　part　of　its　guidance　system　or　the　instruments　with　which　it　detected　the　scents　of　food　and　other　roaches　eager　to　copulate。
　　Striving　to　block　out　the　voices　of　the　raucous　group；　Joe　searched　his　ashen　eyes　in　the　mirror；　wondering　what　his　motives　had　been　when　he　sent　the　boy　to　scope　out　the　men　in　the　Hawaiian　shirts。　If　they　were　conducting　a　surveillance；　they　must　have　mistaken　him　for　someone　else。　They　would　realize　their　error　soon；　and　he　would　never　see　them　again。　There　was　no　good　reason　to　confront　them　or　to　gather　intelligence　about　them。
　　He　had　e　to　the　beach　to　prepare　himself　for　the　visit　to　the　graveyard。　He　needed　to　submit　himself　to　the　ancient　rhythms　of　the　eternal　sea；　which　wore　at　him　as　waves　wore　at　rock；　smoothing　the　sharp　edges　of　anxiety　in　his　mind；　polishing　away　the　splinters　in　his　heart。　The　sea　delivered　the　message　that　life　was　nothing　more　than　meaningless　mechanics　and　cold　tidal　forces；　a　bleak　message　of　hopelessness　that　was　tranquillising　precisely　because　it　was　brutally　humbling。　He　also　needed　another　beer　or　even　two　to　further　numb　his　senses；　so　the　lesson　of　the　sea　would　remain　with　him　as　he　crossed　the　city　to　the　cemetery。
　　He　didn't　need　distractions。　He　didn't　need　action。　He　didn't　need　mystery。　For　him；　life　had　lost　all　mystery　the　same　night　that　it　had　lost　all　meaning；　in　a　silent　Colorado　meadow　blasted　with　sudden　thunder　and　fire。
　　Sandals　slapping　on　the　tiles；　the　boy　returned　to　collect　the　remaining　twenty　of　his　thirty　dollars。　'Didn't　see　any　big　guy　in　a　green　shirt；　but　the　other　one's　out　there；　sure　enough；　getting　a　sunburn　on　his　bald　spot。'
　　Behind　Joe；　some　of　the　gamblers　whooped　in　triumph。　Others　groaned　as　the　dying　cockroach　pleted　another　circuit　either　a　few　seconds　quicker　or　slower　than　its　time　for　the　previous　lap。
　　Curious；　the　boy　craned　his　neck　to　see　what　was　happening。
　　'Where？'　Joe　asked；　withdrawing　a　twenty　from　his　wallet。
　　Still　trying　to　see　between　the　bodies　of　the　circled　gamblers；　the　boy　said；　'There's　a　palm　tree；　a　couple　of　folding　tables　in　the　sand　where　this　geeky　bunch　of　Korean　guys　are　playing　chess；　maybe　sixty…eighty　feet　down　the　beach　from　here。'
　　
　　Although　high　frosted　windows　let　in　hard　white　sunshine　and　grimy　fluorescent　tubes　shed　bluish　light　overhead；　the　air　seemed　yellow；　like　an　acidic　mist。
　　'Look　at　me；'　Joe　said。
　　Distracted　by　the　cockroach　races；　the　boy　said；　'Huh？'
　　'Look　at　me。'
　　Surprised　by　the　quiet　fury　in　Joe's　voice；　the　kid　briefly　met　his　gaze。　Then　those　troubling　eyes；　the　colour　of　contusions；　refocused　on　the　twenty…dollar　bill。
　　'The　guy　you　saw　was　wearing　a　red　Hawaiian　shirt？'　Joe　asked。
　　'Other　colours　in　it；　but　mostly　red　and　orange；　yeah。'
　　'What　pants　was　he　wearing？'
　　'Pants？'
　　'To　keep　you　honest；　I　didn't　tell　you　what　else　he　was　wearing。　So　if　you　saw　him；　now　you　tell　me。'
　　'Hey；　man；　I　don't　know。　Was　he　wearing　shorts　or　trunks　or　pants…how　am　I　supposed　to　know？'
　　'You　tell　me。'
　　'White？　Tan？　I'm　not　sure。　Didn't　know　I　was　supposed　to　do　a　damn　fashion　report。　He　was　just　standing　there；　you　know；　looking　out　of　place；　holding　his　shoes　in　one　hand；　socks　rolled　up　in　them。'
　　It　was　the　same　man　whom　Joe　had　seen　with　the　walkie…talkie　near　the　lifeguard　station。
　　From　the　gamblers　came　noisy　encouragements　to　the　cockroach；　laughter；　curses；　shouted　offers　of　odds；　the　making　of　bets。　They　were　so　loud　now　that　their　voices　echoed　harshly　off　the　concrete…block　walls　and　seemed　to　reverberate　in　the　mirrors　with　such　force　that　Joe　half　expected　those　silvery　surfaces　to　disintegrate。
　　'Was　he　actually　watching　the　Koreans　play　chess　or　pretending？'　Jo