chiaasen.stormyweather-第23章

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　Augustine　shifted　in　embarrassment。　What　did　she　expect？　He　said；　〃My　turn　to　apologize。〃
　
　But　she　didn't　move。　So　he　took　a　slow　quiet　breath　and　tried　to　focus　on　something　else　。。。　say；　Uncle　Felix's　fugitive　monkeys。　How　far　had　they　scattered？　How　were　they　coping　with　freedom？
　
　Augustine's　self…imposed　pondering　was　interrupted　when　Bonnie　Lamb　said：　〃What　if　Max　is　different　now？　Maybe　something's　happened　to　him。〃
　
　Augustine　thought：　Something's　happened；　all　right。　You　can　damn　sure　bet　on　it。
　
　But　what　he　told　Bonnie　was：　〃Your　husband's　hanging　in　there。　You　wait　and　see。〃
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWELVE
　
　
　Skink　said；　〃Care　for　some　toad？〃
　
　The　shock　collar　had　done　its　job；　Max　Lamb　was　unconditionally　conditioned。　If　the　captain　wanted　him　to　smoke　toad；　he　would　smoke　toad。
　
　〃It's　an　offer；　not　a　mand；〃　Skink　said；　by　way　of　clarification。
　
　〃Then　no；　thanks。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　squinted　into　the　warm　salty　night。　Somewhere　out　there；　Bonnie　was　searching。　Max　was　neither　as　anxious　nor　as　hopeful　as　he　should　have　been；　and　he　wondered　why；　his　reaction　to　practically　every　circumstance　was　muted；　as　if　key　brain　synapses　had　been　cauterized　by　the　ordeal　of　the　kidnapping。　For　instance；　he　had　failed　to　raise　even　a　meek　objection　at　the　Key　Biscayne　golf　course；　where　they'd　stopped　to　free　the　Asian　scorpion。　Skink　had　tenderly　deposited　the　venomous　bug　in　the　cup　on　the　eighteenth　green。　〃The　mayor's　favorite　course；〃　he'd　explained。　〃Call　me　an　optimist。〃　Max　had　stood　by　wordlessly。
　
　Now　they　were　on　a　wooden　stilt　house　in　the　middle　of　the　bay。　Skink　dangled　his　long　legs　off　the　end　of　a　dock；　which　was　twisted　and　buckled　like　a　Chinese　parade　dragon。　The　hurricane　had　sucked　the　wooden　pilings　from　their　holes。　Most　of　the　other　stilt　houses　were　shorn　at　the　stems；　but　this　one　had　outlasted　the　storm；　though　barely。　It　lurched　and　creaked　in　the　thickish　breeze；　Max　Lamb　suspected　it　was　sinking　with　the　tide。　Skink　said　the　house　belonged　to　a　man　who'd　retired　on　disability　from　the　State　Attorney's　Office。　The　man　recently　had　married　a　beautiful　twelve…string　guitarist　and　moved　to　the　island　of　Exuma。
　
　Under　a　swinging　lantern；　Skink　lighted　another　exotic…smelling　joint；　marijuana　and　French　onion　soup；　thought　Max　Lamb。　Something　strong　and　cheesy。
　
　〃The　toad　itself　is　toxic；〃　Skink　explained。　〃Bufo　marinus。　A　South　American　import…overran　the　local　species。　Sound　familiar？〃　He　took　a　long　sibilant　drag。　〃The　glands　of　Sefior　Bufo　perspire　a　milky　sap　that　can　kill　a　full…grown　Doberman　in　six　minutes　flat。〃
　
　To　Max；　it　didn't　sound　like　a　substance　that　one　should　be　inhaling。
　
　〃There's　a　special　process；〃　Skink　said；　〃of　extraction。〃　He　took　another　huge　hit。
　
　〃What　does　it　do；　this　toad　sap？〃
　
　〃Nothing。　Everything。　What　all　good　drugs　do；　I　suppose。　Psychoneurotic　roulette。〃　Skink's　chin　dropped　to　his　chest。　His　good　eye　fluttered　and　closed。　His　breathing　rose　to　a　startling　volume；　the　exhalations　sounded　like　the　brakes　of　a　subway　train。　For　fifteen　minutes　Max　Lamb　didn't　make　a　move；　the　notion　to　escape　never　occurred　to　him；　such　was　the　Pavlovian　influence　of　the　collar。
　
　In　the　interval　of　enforced　suspension；　Max's　thoughts　drifted　to　Bill　Knapp　up　at　Rodale。　The　scheming　viper　undoubtedly　had　his　sights　on　Max's　corner　office；　with　its　partially　obstructed　but　nonetheless　energizing　view　of　Madison　Avenue。　Each　day　lost　to　the　ambivalent　kidnapper　was　a　potential　day　of　advancement　for　Billy　the　Backstabber；　Max　Lamb　was　burning　to　return　to　the　agency　and　crush　the　devious　little　fucker's　ambitions。　Brutal　humiliation　was　called　for；　and　Max　hoped　he　was　up　to　the　task。　Darkly　he　imagined　Billy　Knapp　a　jobless；　wifeless；　homeless；　toothless　wretch；　hunched　over　a　can　of　Sterno　in　a　wintry　alley；　sucking　on　a　moist　spliff　laced　with　poisonous　toad　sweat。。。
　
　When　Skink　snapped　awake；　he　coughed　hard　and　flipped　the　butt　of　the　dead　joint　into　the　storm…silted　water。　Not　far　from　the　house；　the　broken　mast　of　a　submerged　sailboat　protruded　from　the　waves。　Skink　pointed　at　the　ghostly　wreck　but　said　nothing。　His　leathery　finger　stayed　in　the　air　for　an　exceptionally　long　time。
　
　〃Tell　me；〃　he　said　to　Max　Lamb；　〃the　most　breathtaking　place　you've　ever　seen。〃
　
　〃Yellowstone　Park。　We　took　a　bus　tour。〃
　
　〃Good　God。〃
　
　〃So　what？〃
　
　〃Outside　Yellowstone　they've　got　a　grizzly…bear　theme　park。　Did　you　go？　I　mean；　some　truly　sad　cases…　no　claws；　no　testicles。　They're　about　as　wild　as　goddamn　hamsters；　but　tourists　line　up　to　see　'em。　Deballed　grizzly　bears！〃
　
　Rapidly　Skink　shook　his　head　back　and　forth；　as　if　trying　to　roust　a　bumblebee　from　his　ear。　Max　Lamb　wasn't　sure　how　the　conversation　had　gone　so　far　astray。　He　did　not　share　the　madman's　passion　for　the　altered　grizzly　bears；　removing　the　claws　seemed　an　entirely　sensible　procedure；　liability…wise；　for　a　public　amusement　park。　But　Max　knew　there　was　no　percentage　in　arguing。　He　remained　quiet　as　Skink　withdrew　into　a　heap　on　the　planks　of　the　spavined　deck。　The　kidnapper　trembled　and　heaved　and　cried　out　names　that　Max　Lamb　didn't　recognize。　A　half　hour　later　he　was　up；　scouting　the　starlit　horizons。
　
　〃You　all　right？〃　Max　asked。
　
　Skink　nodded　soberly。　〃The　down　side　of　toad。　I　do　apologize。〃
　
　〃Are　you　sure　Bonnie　can　find　us　out　here？〃
　
　〃Why　in　the　name　of　God　would　you　marry　a　woman　who　can't　follow　simple　directions？〃
　
　〃But　it's　so　dark…〃
　
　The　trip　to　Stiltsville　had　frightened　Max　Lamb　beyond　exclamation…full　throttle；　no　running　lights；　a　wet　nasty　chop　in　an　open　skiff。　Infinitely　more　harrowing　than　the　airboat。　The　hurricane　had　turned　the　bay　into　a　spectral　gauntlet　of　sunken　yachts；　trawlers；　cabin　cruisers　and　runabouts。　On　the　way　out；　Skink　had　removed　his　glass　eye　and　pressed　it；　for　safekeeping；　into　the　palm　of　Max's　right　hand。　Max　had　clenched　it　as　if　it　were　the　Hope　diamond。
　
　〃Your　wife；〃　Skink　was　saying；　〃will　surely　hook　up　with　somebody　who　knows　the　way。〃
　
　〃I　could　use　a　cigaret。　Please；　captain。〃
　
　Skink　groped　in　his　coat　until　he　came　up　with　a　fresh　pack。　He　tossed　it；　along　with　a　lighter；　to　his　captive。
　
　Max　Lamb　was　embarrassed　that　he'd　so　quickly　bee　hooked　on　the　infamously　harsh　Broncos。　Around　the　agency　they　were　jokingly　known　as　Bron…chials；　such　was　their　killer　reputation　with　anti…smoking　zealots。　Max　attributed　his　hazardous　new　habit　to　severe　stress；　not　a　weakness　of　character。　In　the　advertising　business　it　was　essential　to　remain　immune　from　the　base　appetites　that　tyrannized　the　average　consumer。
　
　Skink　said：　〃What　else　have　you　to　show　for　yourself？〃
　
　〃I'm　not　sure　what　you　mean。〃
　
　〃Slogans；　tiger。　Besides　the　Plum　Crispies。〃
　
　〃Crunchies；〃　said　Max；　tightly。
　
　The　dock　shimmied　as　Skink　rose　to　his　feet。　Max　braced　himself　against　a　half…rotted　beam。　There　was　nowhere　to　go；　the　old　man　who　ferried　them　across　the　bay　had　snatched　Skink's　fifty　dollars　and　hastily　aimed　the　skiff　back　toward　the　mainland。
　
　Skink　swung　the　lantern　around　and　around　his　head。　Caught　in　the　erratic　strobe；　Max　said；　〃All　right；　captain；　here's　one：　'That　fresh　good…morning　feeling；　all　day　long。'〃
　
　〃Product　name？〃
　
　〃Intimate　Mist。〃
　
　〃No！〃　The　lantern　hissed　as　Skink　put　it　down。
　
　Max　tried　not　to　sound　defensive。　〃It's　a　feminine　hygiene'item。　Very　popular。〃
　
　〃The　raspberry　rinse！　Sweet　Jesus；　I　thought　you　were　joking。　This　is　the　sum　of　your　life　achievements…　douche　jingles？〃
　
　〃No；〃　Max　snapped。　〃Soft　drinks；　gasoline　additives；　laser　copiers…I've　worked　on　plenty　of　accounts。〃　He　wondered　what　had　impelled　him　to　mention　the　Intimate　Mist　campaign。　Was　it　an　unconscious　act　of　masochism；　or　carelessness　caused　by　fatigue？
　
　Skink　sat　heavily　on　the　porch；　which　was　canted　at　an　alarming　angle　toward　the　bay。　〃I　do　hear　a　boat；〃　he　said。
　
　Max　stared　curiously　across　the　water。　He　heard　nothing　but　the　slap　of　waves　and　the　scattered　piping　of　seagulls。　He　asked；　〃What　happens　now？〃
　
　There　was　no　reply。　Max　Lamb　saw；　in　the　yellow　flicker　of　the　lantern；　a　smile　cross　the　crazy　man's　face。
　
　〃You　seriously　don't　want　any　ransom？〃
　
　〃I　didn't　say　that。　Money　is　what　I　don't　want。〃
　
　〃Then　what？〃　Max　flicked　his　cigaret　into　the　water。　〃Tell　me　what　the　hell　it's　all　about。　I'm　sick　of　this　game；　I　really　am！〃
　
　Skink　was　amused　by　the　display　of　anger。　Maybe　there　was　hope　for　the　precious　little　bastard。　〃What　I　want；〃　he　said　to　Max　Lamb；　〃is　to　spend　some　time　with　your　wife。　She　intrigues　me。〃
　
　〃In　what　Way？〃
　
　〃Clinically。　Anthropologically。　What　in　the　world　does　she　see　in　you？　How　do　you　two　fit？〃　Skink　gave　a　mischievous　wink。　〃I　like　mysteries。〃
　
　〃If　you　touch　her…〃
　
　〃What　a　brave　young　stud！〃
　
　Max　Lamb　took　two　steps　toward　the　madman；　but　froze　when　Skink　raised　a　hand　to　his　own　throat。　The　collar！　Max　felt　a　hot　sizzle　shoot　from　his　scalp　down　the　length　of　his　spine。　Instantly　he　foresaw　himself　hopping　like　a　puppet。　Had　he　known　that　the　battery　in　the　Tri…Tronics　remote　control　had　been　dead　for　the　past　six　hours；　it　wouldn't　have　softened　his　reaction。　He　was　a　slave　to　his　subconscious。　He　had　e　to　understand　that　the　anticipation　of　pain　was　more　immobilizing　than　the　pain　itself…though　the　knowledge　didn't　help　him。
　
　When　Max　settled　down；　Skink　assured　him　he　had　no　carnal　interest　in　his　wife。　〃Christ；　I'm　not　trying　to　get　laid；　I'm　trying　to　figure　out　man's　place　in　the　food　chain。〃　His　long　arms　swept　an　arc　across　the　stars。　〃A　riddle　of　the　times；　Tourist　Boy。　Five　thousand　years　ago　we're　doodling　on　the　walls　of　caves。　Today　we're　writing　odes　to　fruit…flavored　douche。〃
　
　〃It's　a　job；〃　Max　Lamb　replied　petulantly。　〃Get　over　it。〃
　
　Skink　yawned　like　a　gorged　hyena。　〃That's　a　damn　big　engine　ing。　I　hope　your　Bonnie　wasn't　foolish　enough　to　call　the　police。〃
　
　〃I　warned　her　not　to。〃
　
　Skink　went　on：　〃My　opinion　about　your　wife　will　be　shaped　by　how　she　handles　this　situation。　Whom　she　brings。　Her　attitude。　Her　posure。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　asked　Skink　if　he　had　a　gun。　Skink　clicked　his　tongue　against　his　front　teeth。　〃See　the　running　lights？〃
　
　〃No。〃
　
　〃Toward　Key　Biscayne。　Over　there。〃
　
　〃Oh；　yeah。〃
　
　〃Two　engines；　it　sounds　like。　I'm　guessing　twin　Mercs。〃
　
　Somebody　aboard　the　boat　had　a　powerful　spotlight。　It　swept　back　and　forth　across　the　flats　of　Stiltsville。　As　the　craft　drew　nearer；　the　white　light　settled　on　the　porch　of　the　stilt　house。　Skink　seemed　unconcerned。
　
　He　began　to　remove　toads　from　his　pockets；　gray；　jowly；　scowling；　lump…covered　toads；　some　as　large　as　Idaho　potatoes。　Max　Lamb　counted　eleven。　Skink　lined　them　up　side　by　side　at　his　feet。　Max　had　nothing　to　add　to　the　scenario；　perhaps　it　was　all　a　dream；　beginning　with　the　mangy　hurricane　monkey；　and　soon　he'd　awaken　in　bed　with　Bonnie。。。。
　
　The　pudgy　Bufo　toads　began　to　squirm　and　huff　and　pee。　Skink　rebuked　them　with　a　murmur。　When　the　beam　of　the　speedboat's　spotlight　hit　them；　the　toads　blinked　their　moist　globular　eyes　and　jump