chiaasen.stormyweather-第11章

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　Max　realized　that　he　didn't　know　how　to　reach　his　wife。　He　had　no　idea　where　she　was。　So　he　called　their　apartment　in　New　York　and　spoke　to　the　answering　machine：　〃Honey；　I've　been　kidnapped…〃
　
　〃Abducted！〃　Skink　broke　in。　〃Kidnapping　implies　ransom；　Max。　Don't　fucking　flatter　yourself。〃
　
　〃OK；　'abducted。'　Honey；　I've　been　abducted。　I　can't　say　very　much　except　I'm　fine；　all　things　considered。　Please　call　my　folks；　and　also　call　Pete　up　at　Rodale　about　the　Bronco　billboard　project。　Tell　him　the　race　car　should　be　red；　not　blue。　The　file's　on　my　desk。。。。　Bonnie；　I'm　not　sure　who's　got　me；　or　why；　but　I　guess　I'll　find　out　soon　enough。　God；　I　hope　you　pick　up　this　message…〃
　
　Skink　snatched　the　phone。　〃I　love　you；　Bonnie；〃　he　said。　〃Max　forgot　to　tell　you；　so　I　will。　Bye　now。〃
　
　They　ate　with　the　Miccosukees；　who　declined　Skink's　offer　of　boiled　coon　but　generously　shared　helpings　of　fried　panfish；　yams；　cornmeal　muffins　and　citrus　juice。　Max　Lamb　ate　heartily　but；　mindful　of　the　electric　dog　collar；　said　little。　After　breakfast；　Skink　tied　him　to　a　cypress　post　and　disappeared　with　several　men　of　the　tribe。　When　he　returned；　he　declared　it　was　time　to　leave。
　
　Max　said；　〃Where's　my　stuff？〃　He　was　worried　about　his　billfold　and　clothes。
　
　〃Right　here。〃　Skink　jerked　a　thumb　toward　his　backpack。
　
　〃And　my　Sony？〃
　
　〃Gave　it　to　the　old　man。　He's　got　seven　grandchildren；　so　he'll　have　a　ball。〃
　
　〃What　about　my　tapes？〃
　
　Skink　laughed。　〃He　loved　'em。　That　monkey　attack　was　something　special。　Max；　lift　your　arms。〃　He　spritzed　the　prisoner　with　more　bug　juice。
　
　Max　Lamb；　somberly：　〃That　Handycam　retails　for　about　nine　hundred　bucks。〃
　
　〃It's　not　like　I　gave　it　away。　I　traded。〃
　
　〃For　what？〃
　
　Skink　chucked　him　on　the　shoulder。　〃I'll　bet　you've　never　been　on　an　airboat。〃
　
　〃Oh　no。　Please。〃
　
　〃Hey；　you　wanted　to　see　Florida。〃
　
　It　wasn't　easy　being　a　black　Highway　Patrol　trooper　in　Florida。　It　was　even　harder　if　you　were　involved　intimately　with　a　white　trooper；　the　way　Jim　Tile　was　involved　with　Brenda　Rourke。
　
　They'd　met　at　a　training　seminar　about　the　newest　gadgets　for　clocking　speeders。　In　the　classroom　they　were　seated　next　to　each　other。　Jim　Tile　liked　Brenda　Rourke　right　away。　She　had　a　sane　and　healthy　outlook　on　the　job；　and　she　made　him　laugh。　They　traded　stories　about　freaky　traffic　stops；　lousy　pay　and　the　impossible　FHP　bureaucracy。　Because　he　was　black；　and　few　fellow　officers　were；　Jim　Tile　rarely　felt　fortable　in　a　roomful　of　state　troopers。　But　he　felt　fine　next　to　Brenda　Rourke；　partly　because　she　was　a　minority；　too；　the　Highway　Patrol　employed　even　fewer　women　than　blacks　or　Latins。
　
　During　one　session；　a　buzz…cut　redneck　shot　a　rat…eyed　look　at　Jim　Tile　to　remind　him　that　Trooper　Rourke　was　a　white　girl；　and　that　still　counted　for　plenty　in　parts　of　Florida。　Jim　Tile　didn't　get　up　and　move；　he　kept　his　seat　beside　Brenda。　It　took　the　cracker　trooper　only　about　two　hours　to　quit　glaring。
　
　At　the　lunch　break；　Jim　Tile　and　Brenda　Rourke　went　to　an　Arby's。　She　was　worried　about　her　uping　transfer　to　South　Florida；　Jim　Tile　couldn't　say　much　to　allay　her　fears。　She　said　she　was　studying　Spanish；　in　preparation　for　road　duty　in　Miami。　The　first　phrase　she'd　learned　was：　Sale　del　carro　con　las　manos　arriba。　Out　of　the　car　with　your　hands　up！
　
　At　the　time；　Jim　Tile　held　no　romantic　intentions。　Brenda　Rourke　was　a　nice　person；　that　was　all。　He　never　even　asked　if　she　had　a　boyfriend。　A　few　months　later；　when　he　was　down　in　Dade　County　for　a　trial；　he　ran　into　her　at　FHP　headquarters。　Later　they　went　to　dinner　and　then　to　Brenda's　apartment；　where　they　were　up　until　three　in　the　morning；　chatting；　of　all　things…　initially　out　of　nervousness；　and　later　out　of　an　easy　intimacy。　The　trial　lasted　six　days；　and　every　night　Jim　Tile　found　himself　back　at　Brenda's　place。　Every　morning　they　awakened　exactly　as　they'd　fallen　asleep…　her　head　in　the　crook　of　his　right　shoulder；　his　feet　hanging　off　the　short　bed。　He'd　never　felt　so　peaceful。　After　the　trial　ended　and　Jim　Tile　returned　to　North　Florida；　he　and　Brenda　took　turns　muting　for　long　weekends。
　
　He　wasn't　much　of　a　talker；　but　Brenda　could　drag　it　out　of　him。　She　especially　liked　to　hear　about　the　time　he　was　assigned　to　guard　the　governor　of　Florida…not　just　any　governor；　but　the　one　whp'd　quit；　disappeared　and　bee　a　legendary　recluse。　Brenda　had　been　in　high　school；　but　she　remembered　when　it　happened。　The　newspapers　and　TV　had　gone　wild。　〃Mentally　unstable；〃　was　what　her　twelfth…grade　civics　teacher　had　said　of　the　runaway　governor。
　
　When　Jim　Tile　had　heard　that；　he　threw　back　his　head　and　laughed。　Brenda　would　sit　cross…legged　on　the　carpet；　her　chin　in　her　hands；　engrossed　by　his　stories　of　the　one　they　now　called　Skink。　Out　of　loyalty　and　prudence；　Jim　Tile　didn't　mention　that　he　and　the　man　had　remained　the　closest　of　friends。
　
　〃I　wish　I'd　met　him；〃　Brenda　had　said；　in　the　past　tense；　as　if　Skink　were　dead。　Because　Jim　Tile　had；　perhaps　unconsciously；　made　it　sound　like　he　was。
　
　Now；　two　years　later；　it　seemed　that　Brenda's　improbable　wish　might　e　true。　The　governor　had　surfaced　in　the　hurricane　zone。
　
　On　the　ride　back　from　Card　Sound；　she　asked：　〃Why　would　he　tie　himself　to　a　bridge　during　a　storm？〃　It　was　the　logical　question。
　
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃He's　been　waiting　for　a　big　one。〃
　
　〃What　for？〃
　
　〃Brenda；　I　can't　explain。　It　only　makes　sense　if　you　know　him。〃
　
　She　said　nothing　for　a　mile　or　two；　then：　〃Why　didn't　you　tell　me　that　you　two　still　talk？〃
　
　〃Because　we　seldom　do。〃
　
　〃Don't　you　trust　me？〃
　
　〃Of　course。〃　He　pulled　her　close　enough　to　steal　a　kiss。
　
　She　pulled　away；　a　spark　in　her　pale…blue　eyes。
　
　〃You're　going　to　try　to　find　him。　e　on；　Jim；　be　straight　with　me。〃
　
　〃I'm　afraid　he's　got　a　loose　wire。　That's　not　good。〃
　
　〃This　isn't　the　first　time；　is　it？〃
　
　〃No；〃　said　Jim　Tile；　〃it's　not　the　first　time。〃
　
　Brenda　brought　his　hand　to　her　lips　and　kissed　his　knuckles　lightly。　〃It's　OK；　big　guy。　I　understand　about　friends。〃
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　FIVE
　
　
　When　they　got　to　Augustine's　house；　Bonnie　Lamb　called　her　answering　machine　in　New　York。　She　listened　twice　to　Max's　message；　then　replayed　it　for　Augustine。
　
　〃What　do　you　think？〃　she　asked。
　
　〃Not　good。　Is　your　husband　worth　a　lot　of　money？〃
　
　〃He　does　all　right；　but　he's　no　millionaire。〃
　
　〃And　his　family？〃
　
　Bonnie　said　her　husband's　father　was　quite　wealthy。　〃But　I'm　sure　Max　wasn't　foolish　enough　to　mention　it　to　the　kidnappers。〃
　
　Augustine　made　no　such　assumption。　He　heated　tomato　soup　for　Bonnie　and　put　clean　linens　on　the　bed　in　the　guest　room。　Then　he　went　to　the　den　and　called　a　friend　with　the　FBI。　By　the　time　he　got　off　the　phone；　Bonnie　Lamb　had　fallen　asleep　on　the　living…room　sofa。　He　carried　her　to　the　spare　room　and　tucked　her　under　the　covers。　Then　he　went　to　the　kitchen　and　fixed　two　large　rib…eye　steaks　and　a　baked　potato；　which　he　washed　down　with　a　cold　bottle　of　Amstel。
　
　Later　he　took　a　long　hot　shower　and　thought　about　how　wonderful　Mrs。　Lamb…warm　and　damp　from　the　rain　and　sweat…had　smelled　in　his　arms。　It　felt　good　to　have　a　woman　in　the　house　again；　even　for　just　a　night。　Augustine　wrapped　himself　in　a　towel　and　stretched　out　on　the　hardwood　floor　in　front　of　the　television。　He　flipped　back　and　forth　between　local　news　broadcasts；　hoping　not　to　see　any　of　his　dead　uncle's　wild　animals　running　amok；　or　Mrs。　Lamb's　husband　being　loaded　into　a　coroner's　wagon。
　
　At　midnight　Augustine　heard　a　cry　from　the　guest　room。　He　correctly　surmised　that　Mrs。　Lamb　had　discovered　his　skull　collection。　He　found　her　sitting　up；　the　covers　pulled　to　her　chin。　She　was　gazing　at　the　wall。
　
　〃I　thought　it　was　a　dream；〃　she　said。
　
　〃Please　don't　be　afraid。〃
　
　〃Are　they　real？〃
　
　〃Friends　send　them　to　me；〃　Augustine　said；　〃from　abroad；　mostly。　One　was　a　Christmas　present　from　a　fishing　guide　in　Islamorada。〃　He　wasn't　sure　what　Bonnie　Lamb　thought　of　his　hobby；　so　he　apologized　for　the　fright。　〃Some　people　collect　coins。　I'm　into　forensic　artif