ch.nativetongue-第68章

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　〃Get　off　it；〃　said　Bud　Schwartz。
　〃No　shit。　They　grind　the　horns　into　powder　and　put　it　in　their　tea。〃
　〃Does　it　work？〃
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Danny　Pogue　said。　The　TV　didn't　say。〃
　〃Like；　it　gives　you　a　super　big　boner　or　what？〃
　〃I　don't　know；　Bud；　the　TV　didn't　say。　They　just　talked　about　how　much　the　powder　goes　for　in　Hong　Kong；　stuff　like　that。　Thousands　of　bucks。〃
　Bud　Schwartz　said；　〃You　ask　me；　they　left　out　the　most　important　part　of　the　show。　Does　it　work　or　not？〃
　He　drove　into　one　of　the　airport　garages　and　snatched　a　ticket　from　the　machine。　He　parked　on　Level　M；　as　always。　〃M〃　for　Mother；　it　was　the　only　way　Bud　Schwartz　could　remember　how　to　find　his　car。　He　was　annoyed　that　his　partner　wasn't　sharing　in　the　excitement　of　the　moment：　they　were　about　to　be　rich。
　〃After　today；　you　can　retire；〃　Bud　Schwartz　said。　〃No　more　b…and…e's。　Man；　we　should　throw　us　a　party　tonight。〃
　Danny　Pogue　said；　〃I　ain't　in　the　mood。〃
　They　stepped　onto　the　moving　sidewalk　and　rode　in　silence　to　the　Delta　Airlines　concourse。　The　plane　had　arrived　on　time；　so　the　visitor　already　was　waiting　outside　the　gate。　As　promised；　he　was　carrying　a　blue　umbrella；　otherwise　Bud　Schwartz　would　never　have　known　that　he　was　the　hit　man。　He　stood　barely　five　feet　tall　and　weighed　at　least　two　hundred　pounds。　He　had　thinning　brown　hair；　small　black　eyes　and　skin　that　was　the　color　of　day…old　lard。　Under　a　herringbone　sport　coat　he　wore　a　striped　polyester　shirt；　open　at　the　neck；　with　a　braided　gold　chain。　The　hit　man　seemed　fond　of　gold；　a　bracelet　rattled　on　his　wrist　when　he　shook　Bud　Schwartz's　hand。
　〃Hello；〃　said　the　burglar。
　〃You　call　me　Lou。〃　The　hit　man　spoke　in　a　granite　baritone　that　didn't　match　the　soft　roly…polyness　of　his　figure。
　〃Hi；　Lou；〃　said　Danny　Pogue。　〃I'm　Bud's　partner。〃
　〃How　nice　for　you。　Where's　the　car？〃　He　pointed　to　a　Macy's　shopping　bag　near　his　feet。　〃That's　yours。　Now；　where's　the　car？〃
　On　the　drive　south；　Danny　Pogue　peeked　in　the　Macy's　bag　and　saw　that　it　was　full　of　cash。　Lou　was　up　in　the　front　seat　next　to　Bud　Schwartz。
　〃I　wanna　do　this　tomorrow；〃　he　was　saying。　〃I　gotta　get　home　for　my　wife's　birthday。　She's　forty。〃　Then　he　farted　loudly　and　pretended　not　to　hear　it。
　〃Forty？　No　kidding？〃　said　Bud　Schwartz。　He　had　been　expecting　something　quite　different　in　the　way　of　a　mob　assassin。　Perhaps　it　wasn't　fair；　but　Bud　Schwartz　was　disappointed　in　Lou's　appearance。　For　Francis　Kingsbury's　killer；　he　had　envisioned　someone　taut；　snake…eyed　and　menacing…not　fat；　balding　and　flatulent。
　Just　goes　to　show；　thought　Bud　Schwartz；　these　days　everything's　hype。　Even　the　damn　Mafia。
　From　the　back　seat；　Danny　Pogue　asked：　〃How're　you　gonna　do　it？　What　kinda　gun？〃
　Lou　puffed　out　his　cheeks　and　said；　〃Brand　X。　The　fuck　do　you　care；　what　kinda　gun？〃
　〃Danny；〃　Bud　Schwartz　said；　〃let's　stay　out　of　the　man's　private　business；　okay？〃
　〃I　didn't　mean　nothin'。〃
　〃You　usually　don't。〃
　The　man　named　Lou　said；　〃This　the　neighborhood？〃
　〃We're　almost　there；〃　said　Bud　Schwartz。
　〃I　can't　get　over　all　these　trees；〃　Lou　said。　〃Parts　a　Jersey　look　like　this。　My　wife's　mother　lives　in　Jersey；　a　terrific　old　lady。　Seventy…seven　years　old；　she　bowls　twice　a　week！　In　a　league！〃
　Bud　Schwartz　smiled　weakly。　Perfect。　A　hit　man　who　loves　his　mother…in…law。　What　next…he　collects　for　the　United　Way？
　The　burglar　said　to　Lou：　〃Maybe　it's　better　if　you　rent　a　car。　For　tomorrow；　I　mean。〃
　〃Sure。　Usually　I　do　my　own　driving。〃
　Danny　Pogue　tapped　his　partner　on　the　shoulder　and　said；　〃Slow　down；　Bud；　it's　up　here　on　the　right。〃
　Kingsbury's　estate　was　bathed　in　pale　orange　lights。　Gray　sedans　with　green　bubble　lights　were　parked　to　block　both　ends　of　the　driveway。　Three　men　sat　in　each　sedan；　two　more；　in　security…guard　uniforms；　were　posted　at　the　front　door。　It　was；　essentially；　the　plete　private　security　force　of　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills…except　for　Pedro　Luz；　who　was　inside　the　house；　his　wheelchair　parked　vigilantly　at　Francis　Kingsbury's　bedroom　door。
　Bud　Schwartz　drove　by　slowly。　〃Look　at　this　shit；〃　he　muttered。　Once　they　had　passed　the　house；　he　put　some　muscle　into　the　accelerator。
　〃An　army；〃　Lou　said；　〃that's　what　it　was。〃
　Danny　Pogue　sank　low　in　the　back　seat。　With　both　hands　he　clutched　the　Macy's　bag　to　his　chest。　〃Let's　just　go；〃　he　said。　〃Bud；　let's　just　haul　ass。〃
　
　TWENTY…NINE
　On　the　morning　of　August　2；　Jake　Harp　crawled　into　the　back　of　a　white　limousine　and　rode　in　a　dismal　gin…soaked　stupor　to　the　construction　site　on　North　Key　Largo。　There　he　was　met　by　Charles　Chelsea；　Francis　X。　Kingsbury　and　a　phalanx　of　armed　security　men　whose　crisp　blue　uniforms　failed　to　mitigate　their　shifty　felonious　smirks。　The　entourage　moved　briskly　across　a　recently　bulldozed　plateau；　barren　except　for　a　bright　green　hillock　that　was　cordoned　with　rope　and　ringed　by　reporters；　photographers　and　television　cameramen。　Kingsbury　took　Jake　Harp　by　the　elbow　and；　ascending　the　grassy　knob；　waved　mechanically；　it　reminded　Charles　Chelsea　of　the　rigidly　determined　way　that　Richard　Nixon　had　saluted　before　boarding　the　presidential　chopper　for　the　final　time。　Except　that；　pared　to　Francis　Kingsbury；　Nixon　was　about　as　tense　as　Pee　Wee　Herman。
　Jake　Harp　heard　himself　pleading　for　coffee；　please　God；　even　decaf；　but　Kingsbury　seemed　not　to　hear　him。　Jake　Harp　blinked　amphibiously　and　struggled　to　focus　on　the　scene。　It　was　early。　He　was　outdoors。　The　sun　was　intensely　bright。　The　Atlantic　Ocean　murmured　at　his　back。　And　somebody　had　dressed　him：　Izod　shirt；　Sansibelt　slacks；　tasseled　Footjoy　golf　shoes。　What　could　this　be！　Then　he　heard　the　scratchy　click　of　a　portable　microphone　and　the　oily　voice　of　Charles　Chelsea。
　〃Wele；　everybody。　We're　standing　on　what　will　soon　be　the　first　tee　of　the　Falcon　Trace　Championship　Golf　Course。　As　you　can　see；　we've　got　a　little　work　ahead　of　us。。。。〃
　Laughter。　These　numbnuts　are　laughing；　thought　Jake　Harp。　He　squinted　at　the　white　upturned　faces　and　recognized　one　or　two　as　sportswriters。
　More　from　Chelsea：　〃。。。and　we　thought　it　would　be　fun　to　inaugurate　the　construction　of　this　magnificent　golfing　layout　with　a　hitting　clinic。〃
　Jake　Harp's　stomach　clenched　as　somebody　folded　a　three…wood　into　his　fingers。　The　golf　pro　stared　in　disgust：　a　graphite　head。　They　expect　me　to　hit　with　metal！
　Charles　Chelsea's　well…tanned　paw　settled　amiably　on　Jake　Harp's　shoulder；　the　stench　of　Old　Spice　was　overpowering。
　〃This　familiar　fellow　needs　no　introduction；〃　Chelsea　was　saying。　〃He's　graciously　agreed　to　christen　the　new　course　by　hitting　a　few　balls　into　the　ocean…since　we　don't　actually　have　a　fairway　yet。〃
　Laughter　again。　Mysterious；　inexplicable　laughter。　Jake　Harp　swayed；　bracing　himself　with　the　three…wood。　What　had　he　been　drinking　last　night？　Vodka　sours？　Tanqueray　martinis？　Possibly　both。　He　remembered　dancing　with　a　banker's　wife。　He　remembered　telling　her　how　he'd　triple…bogeyed　the　Road　Hole　and　missed　the　cut　at　the　British　Open；　missed　the　damn　cut；　all　because　some　fat　Scotsman　booted　the　ball。。。。
　Jake　Harp　also　remembered　the　banker's　wife　whispering　something　about　a　blowjob…but　did　it　happen？
　He　hoped　so；　but　he　truly　couldn't　recall。　One　thing　was　certain：　today　he　was　physically　incapable　of　swinging　a　golf　club；　it　was　simply　out　of　the　question。　He　wondered　how　he　would　break　the　news　to　Francis　Kingsbury；　who　was　bowing　to　the　photographers　in　acknowledgment　of　Charles　Chelsea's　effusive　introduction。
　〃Frank；〃　said　Jake　Harp。　〃Where　am　I？〃
　With　a　frozen　smile；　Kingsbury　remarked　that　Jake　Harp　looked　about　as　healthy　as　dog　barf。
　〃A　bad　night；〃　the　golfer　rasped。　〃I'd　like　to　go　home　and　lie　down。〃
　Then　came　an　acrid　gust　of　cologne　as　Chelsea　leaned　in：　〃Hit　a　few；　Jake；　okay？　No　interviews；　just　a　photo　op。〃
　〃But　I　can't　use　a　fucking　graphite　wood。　This　is　Jap　voodoo；　Frank；　I　need　my　MacGregors。〃
　Francis　Kingsbury　gripped　Jake　Harp　by　the　shoulders　and　turned　him　toward　the　ocean。　〃And　would　you　please；　for　Christ's　sake；　try　not　to　miss　the　goddamn　ball？〃
　Chelsea　cautioned　Kingsbury　to　keep　his　voice　down。　The　sportswriters　were　picking　up　on　the　fact　that　Jake　Harp　was　seriously　u