thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第2部分

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　no　munication　in　this　car？　Had　we　deteriorated　to　the　level　of　dumb　beasts？
　　Because　my　story　was　true。　I　was　certain　of　that。　And　it　was　extremely　important；　I　felt；　for　the　meaning　of　our　journey　to　be　made　absolutely　clear。　We　had　actually　been　sitting　there　in　the　Polo　Lounge…for　many　hours…drinking　Singapore　Slings　with　mescal　on　the　side　and　beer　chasers。　And　when　the　call　came；　I　was　ready。
　　The　Dwark　approached　our　table　cautiously；　as　I　recall；　and　when　he　handed　me　the　pink　telephone　I　said　nothing；　merely　listened。　And　then　I　hung　up；　turning　to　face　my　attorney。　〃That　was　headquarters；〃　I　said。　〃They　want　me　to　go　to　Las　Vegas　at　once；　and　make　contact　with　a　Portuguese　photographer　named　Lacerda。　He'll　have　the　details。　All　I　have　to　do　is　check　into　my　suite　and　he'll　seek　me　out。〃　My　attorney　said　nothing　for　a　moment；　then　he　suddenly　came　alive　in　his　chair。　〃God　hell！〃　he　exclaimed。　〃I　think　I　see　the　pattern。　This　one　sounds　like　real　trouble！〃　He　tucked　his　khaki　undershirt　into　his　white　rayon　bellbottoms　and　called　for　more　drink。　〃You're　going　to　need　plenty　of　legal　advice　before　this　thing　is　over；〃　he　said。　〃And　my　first　advice　is　that　you　should　rent　a　very　fast　car　with　no　top　and　get　the　hell　out　of　L。A。　for　at　least　forty…eight　hours。〃　He　shook　his　head　sadly。　〃This　blows　my　weekend；　because　naturally　I'll　have　to　go　with　you…and　we'll　have　to　ann　ourselves。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃　I　said。　〃If　a　thing　like　this　is　worth　doing　at　all；　it's　worth　doing　right。　We'll　need　some　decent　equipment　and　plenty　of　cash　on　the　line…if　only　for　drugs　and　a　super…sensitive　tape　recorder；　for　the　sake　of　a　permanent　record。〃
　　〃What　kind　of　a　story　is　this？〃　he　asked。
　　〃The　Mint　400；〃　I　said。　〃It's　the　richest　off…the…road　race　for　motorcycles　and　dune…buggies　in　the　history　of　organized　sport…a　fantastic　spectacle　in　honor　of　some　fatback　grossero　named　Del　Webb；　who　owns　the　luxurious　Mint　Hotel　in　the　heart　of　downtown　Las　Vegas。。。at　least　that's　what　the　press　release　says；　my　man　in　New　York　just　read　it　to　me。〃
　　〃Well；〃　he　said；　〃as　your　attorney　I　advise　you　to　buy　a　motorcycle。　How　else　can　you　cover　a　thing　like　this　righteously？〃
　　〃No　way；〃　I　said。　〃Where　can　we　get　hold　of　a　Vincent　Black　Shadow？〃
　　〃What's　that？〃
　　〃A　fantastic　bike；〃　I　said。　〃The　new　model　is　something　like　two　thousand　cubic　inches；　developing　two　hundred　brake…horsepower　at　four　thousand　revolutions　per　minute　on　a　magnesium　frame　with　two　styrofoam　seats　and　a　total　curb　weight　of　exactly　two　hundred　pounds。〃
　　〃That　sounds　about　right　for　this　gig；〃　he　said。
　　〃It　is〃　I　assured　him。　〃The　fucker's　not　much　for　turning；　but　it's　pure　hell　on　the　straightaway。　It'll　outrun　the　F…ill　until　takeoff。〃
　　〃Takeoff？〃　he　said。　〃Can　we　handle　that　much　torque？〃
　　〃Absolutely；〃　I　said。　〃I'll　call　New　York　for　some　cash。〃
　　
　　　2。　The　Seizure　of　300　from　a　Pig　Woman　In　Beverly　Hills
　　
　　The　New　York　office　was　not　familiar　with　the　Vincent　Black　Shadow：　they　referred　me　to　the　Los　Angeles　bureau…which　is　actually　in　Beverly　Hills　just　a　few　long　blocks　from　the　Polo　Lounge…but　when　I　got　there；　the　money…woman　refused　to　give　me　more　than　300　in　cash。　She　had　no　idea　who　I　was；　she　said；　and　by　that　time　I　was　pouring　sweat。　My　blood　is　too　thick　for　California：　I　have　never　been　able　to　properly　explain　myself　in　this　climate。　Not　with　the　soaking　sweats。。。wild　red　eyeballs　and　trembling　hands。
　　So　I　took　the　300　and　left。　My　attorney　was　waiting　in　a　bar　around　the　corner。　〃This　won't　make　the　nut；〃　he　said；　〃unless　we　have　unlimited　credit。〃　I　assured　him　we　would。　〃You　Samoans　are　all　the　same；〃　I　told　him。　〃You　have　no　faith　in　the　essential　decency　of　the　white　man's　culture。　Jesus；　just　one　hour　ago　we　were　sitting　over　there　in　that　stinking　baiginio；　stone　broke　and　paralyzed　for　the　weekend；　when　a　call　es　through　from　some　total　stranger　in　New　York；　telling　me　to　go　to　Las　Vegas　and　expenses　be　damned…and　then　he　sends　me　over　to　some　office　in　Beverly　Hills　where　another　total　stranger　gives　me　300　raw　cash　for　no　reason　at　all。。。I　tell　you；　my　man；　this　is　the　American　Dream　in　action！　We'd　be　fools　not　to　ride　this　strange　torpedo　all　the　way　out　to　the　end。〃
　　〃Indeed；〃　he　said。　〃We　must　do　it。〃
　　〃Right；〃　I　said。　〃But　first　we　need　the　car。　And　after　that；　the　cocaine。　And　then　the　tape　recorder；　for　special　music；　and　some　Acapulco　shirts。〃　The　only　way　to　prepare　for　a　trip　like　this；　I　felt；　was　to　dress　up　like　human　peacocks　and　get　crazy；　then　screech　off　across　the　desert　and　cover　the　stary。　Never　lose　sight　of　the　primary　responsibility。　But　what　was　the　story？　Nobody　had　bothered　to　say。　So　we　would　have　to　drum　it　up　on　our　own。　Free　Enterprise。　The　American　Dream。　Horatio　Alger　gone　mad　on　drugs　in　Las　Vegas。　Do　it　now：　pure　Gonzo　journalism。
　　There　was　also　the　socio…psychic　factor。　Every　now　and　then　when　your　life　gets　plicated　and　the　weasels　start　closing　in；　the　only　real　cure　is　to　load　up　on　heinous　chemicals　and　then　drive　like　a　bastard　from　Hollywood　to　Las　Vegas。　To　relax；　as　it　were；　in　the　womb　of　the　desert　sun。　Just　roll　the　roof　back　and　screw　it　on；　grease　the　face　with　white　tanning　butter　and　move　out　with　the　music　at　top　volume；　and　at　least　a　pint　of　ether。
　　Getting　hold　of　the　drugs　had　been　no　problem；　but　the　car　and　the　tape　recorder　were　not　easy　things　to　round　up　at　6：30　on　a　Friday　afternoon　in　Hollywood。　I　already　had　one　car；　but　it　was　far　too　small　and　slow　for　desert　work。　We　went　to　a　Polynesian　bar；　where　my　attorney　made　seventeen　calls　before　locating　a　convertible　with　adequate　horsepower　and　proper　coloring。
　　〃Hang　onto　it；〃　I　heard　him　say　into　the　phone。　〃We'll　be　over　to　make　the　trade　in　thirty　minutes。〃　Then　after　a　pause；　he　began　shouting：　〃What？　Of　course　the　gentleman　has　a　major　credit　card！　Do　you　realize　who　the　fuck　you're　talking　to？〃
　　〃Don't　take　any　guff　from　these　swine；〃　I　said　as　he　slammed　the　phone　down。　〃Now　we　need　a　sound　store　with　the　finest　equipment。　Nothing　dinky。　We　want　one　of　those　new　Belgian　Heliowatts　with　a　voice…activated　shotgun　mike；　for　picking　up　conversations　in　oning　cars。〃　We　made　several　more　calls　and　finally　located　our　equip…ment　in　a　store　about　five　miles　away。　It　was　closed；　but　the　salesman　said　he　would　wait；　if　we　hurried。　But　we　were　de…layed　en　route　when　a　Stingray　in　front　of　us　killed　a　pedestrian　on　Sunset　Boulevard。　The　store　was　closed　by　the　time　we　got　there。　There　were　people　inside；　but　they　refused　to　e　to　the　double…glass　door　until　we　gave　it　a　few　belts　and　made　ourselves　clear。
　　Finally　two　salesmen　brandishing　tire　irons　came　to　the　door　and　we　managed　to　negotiate　the　sale　through　a　tiny　slit。　Then　they　opened　the　door　just　wide　enough　to　shove　the　equipment　out；　before　slamming　and　locking　it　again。　〃Now　take　that　stuff　and　get　the　hell　away　from　here；〃　one　of　them　shouted　through　the　slit。
　　My　attorney　shook　his　fist　at　them。　〃We'll　be　back；〃　he　yelled。　〃One　of　these　days　I'll　toss　a　fucking　bomb　into　this　place！　I　have　your　name　on　this　sales　slip！　I'll　find　out　where　you　live　and　burn　your　house　down！〃
　　〃That'll　give　him　something　to　think　about；〃　he　muttered　as　we　drove　off。　〃That　guy　is　a　paranoid　psychotic；　anyway。　They're　easy　to　spot。〃　We　had　trouble；　again；　at　the　car　rental　agency。　After　signing　all　the　papers；　I　got　in　the　car　and　almost　lost　control　of　it　while　backing　across　the　lot　to　the　gas　pump。　The　rental…man　was　obviously　shaken。
　　〃Say　there。。。uh。。。you　fellas　are　going　to　be　careful　with　this　car；　aren't　you？〃
　　〃Of　course。〃
　　〃Well；　good　god！〃　he　said。　〃You　just　backed　over　that　two…foot　concrete　abutment　and　you　didn't　even　slow　down！　Forty…five　in　reverse！　And　you　barely　missed　the　pump！〃
　　〃No　harm　done；〃　I　said。　〃I　always　test　a　transmission　that　way。　The　rear　end。　For　stress　factors。〃　Meanwhile；　my　attorney　was　busy　transferring　rum　and　ice　from　the　Pinto　~　the　back　seat　of　the　convertible。　The　rental…man　watched　him　nervously。
　　〃Say；〃　he　said。　〃Are　you　fellas　drinking？〃
　　〃Not　me；〃　I　said。
　　〃Just　fill　the　goddamn　tank；〃　my　attorney　snapped。　〃We're　in　a　hell　of　a　hurry。　We