chiaasen.stormyweather-第14部分

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elongings　until　he　found　a　Greater　Miami　telephone　directory。　The　salesman's　home　number　matched　the　one　belonging　to　an　A。　R。　Torres　at　15600　Calusa　Drive。　Ira　Jackson　tore　the　page　from　the　phone　book。　Carefully　he　folded　it　to　fit　inside　his　wallet；　with　the　other　important　numbers。
　
　Then　he　drove　his　fraudulently　registered　Coupe　de　Ville　to　a　convenience　store；　where　he　purchased　a　Rand　McNally　road　map　of　Dade　County。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　SIX
　
　
　The　vagabond　monkey　chose　to　forgo　the　airboat　experience。　Max　Lamb　was　given　no　choice。　The　one…eyed　man　strapped　him　to　the　passenger　seat　and　off　they　went　at　fifty　miles　an　hour；　skimming　the　grass；　cattails　and　lily　pads。　For　a　while　they　followed　a　canal　that　paralleled　a　two…lane　highway；　Max　could　make　out　the　faces　of　motorists　gaping　at　him　in　his　underwear。　It　didn't　occur　to　him　to　signal　for　help；　the　electrified　dog　collar　had　conditioned　total　passivity。
　
　Riding　high　in　the　driver's　perch；　the　man　who　called　himself　Skink　sang　at　the　top　of　his　lungs。　It　sounded　like　〃Desperado；〃　an　old　Eagles　tune。　The　familiar　melody　surfed　above　the　ear…splitting　roar　of　the　air…boat's　engine；　more　than　ever；　Max　Lamb　believed　he　was　in　the　grip　of　a　madman。
　
　Soon　the　airboat　made　a　wide　turn　away　from　the　road。　It　plowed　a　liquid　trail　through　thickening　marsh；　the　sawgrass　hissing　against　the　metal　hull。　The　hurricane　had　bruised　and　gouged　the　swamp；　smashed　cypresses　and　pines　littered　the　waters。　Skink　stopped　singing　and　began　to　emit　short　honks　and　toots　that　Max　Lamb　assumed　to　be　either　wild　bird　calls　or　a　fearsome　attack　of　sinusitis。　He　was　afraid　to　inquire。
　
　At　noon　they　stopped　at　a　dry　hammock；　its　once…lush　branches　now　skeletal　from　the　storm。　Skink　tied　the　airboat　to　a　knuckled　stand　of　roots。　Evidence　of　previous　campfires　reassured　Max　Lamb　that　other　humans　had　been　there　before。　The　kidnapper　didn't　bother　to　tie　him；　there　was　no　place　to　run。　With　Skink's　permission；　Max　put　on　his　clothes　to　protect　himself　from　the　horseflies　and　mosquitoes。　When　he　plained　of　being　thirsty；　Skink　offered　his　own　canteen。　Max　took　a　tentative　swallow。
　
　〃Coconut　milk？〃　he　asked；　hopefully。
　
　〃Something　like　that。〃
　
　Max　suggested　that　wearing　the　shock　collar　was　no　longer　necessary。　Skink　whipped　out　the　remote　control；　pushed　the　red　button　and　said：　〃If　you've　got　to　ask；　then　it's　still　necessary。〃
　
　Max　jerked　wordlessly　on　the　damp　ground　until　the　pain　stopped。　Skink　caught　a　mud　turtle　and　made　soup　for　lunch。　Tending　the　fire；　he　said；　〃Max；　I'll　take　three　questions。〃
　
　〃Three？〃
　
　〃For　now。　Let's　see　how　it　goes。〃
　
　Max　warily　eyed　the　remote。　Skink　promised　there　would　be　no　electronic　penalty　for　dumb　queries。　〃So　fire　away。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　said；　〃All　right。　Who　are　you？〃
　
　〃My　name　is　Tyree。　I　served　in　the　Vietnam　conflict；　and　later　as　a　governor　of　this　fair　state。　I　resigned　because　of　disturbing　moral　and　philosophical　conflicts。　The　details　would　mean　nothing　to　you。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　failed　to　mask　his　disbelief。　〃You　were　governor？　e　off　it。〃
　
　〃Is　that　question　number　two？〃
　
　Impatiently；　Max　fingered　the　dog　collar。　〃No；　the　second　question　is：　Why　me？〃
　
　〃Because　you　made　a　splendid　target　of　yourself。　You　with　your　video　camera；　desecrating　the　habitat。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　got　defensive。　〃I　wasn't　the　only　one　taking　pictures。　I　wasn't　the　only　tourist　out　there。〃
　
　〃But　you　were　the　one　I　saw　first。〃　Skink　poured　hot　soup　into　a　tin　cup　and　handed　it　to　his　sulking　prisoner。　〃A　hurricane　is　a　holy　thing；〃　he　said；　〃but　you　treated　it　as　an　amusement。　Pissed　me　off；　Max。〃
　
　Skink　lifted　the　pot　off　the　hot　coals　and　tipped　it　to　his　lips。　Steam　wisped　from　his　mouth；　fogging　his　glass　eye。　He　put　the　pot　down　and　wiped　the　turtle　drippings　from　his　chin。　〃I　was　tied　up　on　a　bridge；〃　he　said；　〃watching　the　storm　roll　out　of　the　ocean。　God；　what　a　thing！〃
　
　He　stepped　toward　Max　Lamb　and　lifted　him　by　the　shirt；　causing　Max　to　drop　the　soup　he　had　not　touched。
　
　Skink　hoisted　him　to　eye　level　and　said：　〃Twenty　years　I　waited　for　that　storm。　We　were　so　close；　so　goddamn　close。　Two　or　three　degrees　to　the　north；　and　we're　in　business。。。。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　dangled　in　the　stranger's　iron　clasp。　Skink's　good　eye　glistened　with　a　furious；　dreamy　passion。　〃You're　down　to　one　question；〃　he　said；　returning　Max　to　his　feet。
　
　After　settling　himself；　Max　asked：　〃What　happens　now？〃
　
　Skink's　stormy　expression　dissolved　into　a　smile。　〃What　happens　now；　Max；　is　that　we　travel　together；　sharing　life's　lessons。〃
　
　〃Oh。〃　Max's　eyes　cut　anxiously　to　the　airboat。
　
　The　governor　barked　a　laugh　that　scattered　a　flock　of　snowy　egrets。　He　tousled　his　prisoner's　hair　and　said；　〃We　go　with　the　tides！〃
　
　But　a　despairing　Max　Lamb　couldn't　face　the　prospect　of　true　adventure。　Now　that　it　seemed　he　would　not　be　murdered；　he　was　burdened　by　another　primal　concern：　If　I　don't　get　back　to　New　York；　I'm　going　to　lose　my　job。
　
　Edie　Marsh　was　daydreaming　about　teak　sailboats　and　handsome　young　Kennedys　when　she　felt　the　moist　hand　of　Tony　Torres　settle　on　her　left　breast。　She　cracked　an　eyelid　and　sighed。
　
　〃Quit　squeezing。　It's　not　a　tomato。〃
　
　〃Can　I　see？〃　Tony　asked。
　
　〃Absolutely　not。〃　But　she　heard　the　squeaky　shift　of　weight　as　the　salesman　edged　the　chaise　closer。
　
　〃Nobody's　around；〃　he　said；　fumbling　with　her　buttons。　Then　an　oily　laugh：　〃I　mean；　you　are　my　wife。〃
　
　〃Jesus。〃　Edie　felt　the　sun　on　her　nipples　and　looked　down。　Well；　there　they　were…the　pig　had　undone　her　blouse。　〃Don't　you　understand　English？〃
　
　Tony　Torres　contentedly　appraised　her　breasts。　〃Yeah；　darling；　but　who's　got　the　shotgun。〃
　
　〃That's　so　romantic；〃　Edie　Marsh　said。　〃Threaten　to　shoot　me…there's　no　better　way　to　put　a　girl　in　the　mood。　Fact；　I'm　all　wet　just　thinking　about　it。〃　She　pushed　his　hand　away　and　rebuttoned　her　blouse。　〃Where's　my　shades；〃　she　muttered。
　
　Tony　cradled　the　Remington　across　his　belly。　Sweat　puddled　at　his　navel。　He　said；　〃You　will　think　about　it。　They　all　do。〃
　
　〃I　think　about　cancer；　too；　but　it　doesn't　make　me　horny。〃　To　Edie；　the　only　attractive　thing　about　Tony　Torres　was　his　gold　Cartier　wristwatch；　which　was　probably　engraved　in　such　a　gaudy　way　that　it　could　not　be　prudently　fenced。
　
　He　asked　her：　〃Have　you　ever　been　with　a　bald　man？〃
　
　〃Nope。　You　ever　seen　venereal　warts？〃
　
　The　salesman　snorted；　turning　away。　〃Somebody's　in　a　pissy　mood。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　dug　the　black　Ray…Bans　out　of　her　purse　and　disappeared　behind　them。　The　shotgun　made　her　nervous；　but　she　resolved　to　stay　cool。　She　tried　to　shut　out　the　summer　glare；　the　ceaseless　drone　of　chain　saws　and　dump　trucks；　and　the　rustle　of　Tony　Torres　reading　the　newspaper。　The　warmth　of　the　sun　made　it　easy　for　Edie　Marsh　to　think　of　the　duned　shores　at　the　Vineyard；　or　the　private　beaches　of　Manalapan。
　
　Her　reverie　was　interrupted　by　footsteps　on　the　sidewalk　across　the　street。　She　hoped　it　was　Snapper；　but　it　wasn't。　It　was　a　man　walking　two　small　dachshunds。
　
　Edie　felt　Tony's　hand　on　hers　and　heard　him　say；　〃Darling；　would　you　squirt　some　Coppertone　on　my　shoulders？〃
　
　Quickly　she　rose　from　the　chair　and　crossed　the　road。　The　man　was　watching　his　dachshunds　pee　on　the　stem　of　a　broken　mailbox。　He　held　both　leashes　in　one　hand；　loosely。　There　was　a　melancholy　slump　to　his　shoulders　that　should　have　disappeared　with　the　approach　of　a　pretty　woman；　but　did　not。
　
　Edie　Marsh　told　him　the　dogs　were　adorable。　When　she　stooped　to　pet　them；　the　dachshunds　simultaneously　rolled　over　and　began　squirming　like　worms　on　a　griddle。
　
　〃What're　their　names？〃
　
　〃Donald　and　Maria；〃　the　man　replied。　He　wasn't　tall；　but　he　was　built　like　a　furnace。　He　wore　a　peach　knit　shirt　and　khaki　slacks。　He　said　to　Edie：　〃You　live　at　that　house？〃
　
　She　saw　Tony　Torres　eyeing　them　from　the　chaise。　She　asked　the　stranger　if　he　was　from　the　Midwest　Casualty　insurance　pany。　He　motioned　sarcastically　toward　the　dogs　and　said；　〃Sure。　And　my　associates　here　are　from　Merrill　Lynch。〃
　
　The　dachshunds　were　up；　wagging　thei