ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第22节

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　〃Castro；　the　one　from　Cuba。〃
　〃They　all　from　Cuba。〃
　〃What's　his　name…Fidel；〃　Marlis　said。　〃Fidel　Castro；　Shaved　off　his　beard。〃　She　paused　and　hunched　in　a　little　closer　to　Joe　and　Franklin。　〃Shaved　his　beard　and　must've　shaved　his　head；　too；　'cause　the　man's　wearing　a　rug。〃
　〃That's　what　I　thought　too；〃　Joe　said。　〃But　whose　hair　does　the　rug　look　like？〃
　Now　Marlis　squinted　till　she　had　it　and　said；　〃Yeah；　that　high…waisted　cat　kung…fus　everybody　he　don't　shoot。〃
　Franklin　said；　〃I　know　who　you　mean。　That　kung…fu　cat　with　the　big　butt。　Doesn't　take　shuck　and　jive　from　nobody。　But　listen　to　me　now。　If　that's　the　Fidel　we　talking　about　here；　there's　a　man　will　pay　a　million　dollars　to　see　him　dead。　Man　name　of　Reyes。　It　would　be　easy　as　pie　to　cap　him　sitting　there；　wouldn't　it？〃　He　looked　at　Joe　Sereno。　〃I　mean　if　it　was　your　trade。〃
　〃Tempting；〃　Marlis　said；　〃but　safer　to　clean　up　after。　Celebrity；　be　nothing　wrong　with　doubling　the　fee。〃
　Joe　was　thinking。　He　said；　〃You　suppose　a　hit　man　killed　these　two　in　here？〃
　〃Hit　men　as　a　rule；〃　Franklin　said；　〃don't　make　this　kind　of　mess。　One　on　the　back　of　the　head；　use　a　twenty…two　High　Standard　Field　King　with　a　suppressor　on　it。　We've　followed　up　after　hit　men；　haven't　we；　precious？〃
　〃We　sure　have；〃　Marlis　said。　〃Lot　of　that　kind　of　work　around　here。〃
　Joe　Sereno　said；　〃You　don't　suppose　。。。　〃　and　stopped；　narrowing　his　eyes　then　to　make　what　he　wanted　to　say　e　out　right。　〃In　the　past　few　days　I've　run　into　three　homicides；　counting　these　two；　and　a　fourth　one　they're　calling　an　accident　looks　more　like　a　homicide　to　me。　I　have　a　hunch　they're　related。　Don't　pin　me　down　for　the　motive；　'cause　I　don't　see　a　nexus。　At　least　not　yet　I　don't。　But　I　got　a　creepy　feeling　that　once　these　two　are　identified；　it　will　explain　the　others。　I'm　talking　about　the　old　woman；　and　a　guy　named　Phil。　And；　unless　I　miss　my　guess；　it　all　has　something　to　do　with　that　man　sitting　over　there　smoking　a　cigar。〃
　〃Unless；〃　Marlis　said；　〃the　dude　over　there　is　the　Fidel　impersonator；　Mickey　Schwartz。〃
　〃Either　way；〃　Joe　Sereno　said；　〃ID　these　two　and　this　whole　mess　will　bee　clear。〃
　A　look　passed　between　Franklin　and　Marlis。
　Joe　caught　it　and　thought；　Hmmmm。
　
　13。　THE　LAW　OF　THE　JUNGLE…Carl　Hiaasen
　Mickey　Schwartz　had　never　been　to　Bimini；　as　there　was　not　among　Bahamians　a　huge　demand　for　Fidel　Castro　impersonators。
　Nor　had　Mickey　Schwartz　ever　been　in　a　Cigarette　boat　crossing　the　Gulf　Stream　with　an　Uzi…toting　goon；　an　obese　fugitive　politician；　two　crabby　female　hostages；　and　an　older　woman　who　elegantly　claimed　to　have　slept　with　the　real　Fidel。
　In　that　respect；　it　was　the　most　interesting　gig　of　Mickey　Schwartz's　show　business　career。　And；　except　for　the　threat　of　gunplay；　it　was　also　the　most　gratifying；　professionally。
　Being　a　Castro　impersonator　in　Miami　was　no　picnic…a　vast　impassioned　segment　of　the　population　regarded　the　Cuban　leader　more　as　a　murderous　butcher　than　as　cheap　ic　relief。　As　Mickey　Schwartz　could　attest；　there　was　no　fortune　to　be　made　milking　Castro　for　laughs；　at　least　not　in　South　Florida。
　Most　of　Mickey's　Fidel　gigs　were　weekend　parades　in　Little　Havana；　and　involved　long　hours　of　pretending　to　be　dead…lying　in　an　open　casket；　swinging　from　a　gallows；　rotting　under　a　cloud　of　fake　flies　in　a　cane　field　。。。　that　sort　of　thing。　As　long　as　Mickey　didn't　move　a　muscle；　everything　was　fine；　people　cheered　like　crazy。
　Easy　payday；　his　pals　would　say。　But　Mickey　Schwartz　hated　it。　The　fatigues　were　stifling　and　the　phony　beard　was　scratchy。　Besides；　he　was　too　talented　for　Sunday　parade　crap。　He　had　a　solid　lounge　act　in　Sunny　Isles…Brando；　Nicholson；　Robin　Williams。　He　even　did　a　Howard　Stern；　for　the　younger　crowd。　Who　else　did　a　Howard　Stern？　Nobody；　that's　who。
　Mickey　Schwartz　believed　he　hated　impersonating　Castro　nearly　as　much　as　the　exiles　hated　Castro　himself。　Yet　now；　plowing　across　the　Gulf　Stream　in　a　spiffy　black　Cigarette　boat；　he　figured　all　the　hard　humiliating　work　was　paying　off。　Ten　grand；　and　a　free　trip　to　Bimini！
　Mickey　wasn't　sure　exactly　who　was　paying　him；　and　didn't　care。　He　was　feeling　pretty　good　about　the　day；　until　the　speedboat　hit　the　curling　wake　of　an　oil　tanker　and　the　humongous　fugitive　politician…the　one　they　called　Big　Joey　G。…choked　to　death　on　his　conch　salad。
　Fay　Leonard　said；　〃Tell　me　you're　not　just　throwing　him　overboard。〃
　Hector　squinted　at　her。　〃No；　baby；　I'm　not　throwing　him　overboard。　I'm　rolling　him　overboard。〃
　The　body　of　Big　Joey　disappeared　over　the　transom。　The　splash　was　majestic。　Fay　glared　at　Hector；　she　hated　polluters。
　Hector　said；　〃That　oughta　add　about　eight　knots　to　our　cruising　speed。〃
　〃And　three　hundred　pounds　of　filth　to　the　water　column；〃　Fay　muttered。
　〃No；　baby；　that　man　is　definitely　biodegrading。〃
　
　Britt　Montero；　shackled　on　the　deck　next　to　Fay；　couldn't　help　but　snigger。　Hector　winked　and　flexed；　making　the　scorpion　tattoo　do　a　shimmy。　He　slipped　the　strap　of　the　Uzi　over　his　shoulder　and　returned　to　the　wheel。　Fay's　gaze　shifted　to　the　red　Gott　cooler　at　Hector's　feet。　Glumly　she　considered　what　was　inside；　packed　on　a　pillow　of　ice。
　Nothing　left　to　bargain　with　now；　she　thought。　The　granddaughter　of　Marion　McAlister　Williams　will　soon　be　sleeping　with　the　fishes；　and　Joey　G。
　Fay　felt　an　elbow　in　her　ribs。　Britt　leaned　close　and　said；　〃Don't　worry。〃　Fay　nodded　gamely。　Maybe　they　could　talk　their　way　out　of　it。　Maybe　there　was　hope。
　Just　as　the　despicable　Hector　had　predicted；　the　newly　lightened　Cigarette　boat　picked　up　speed。　In　her　mind；　Fay　replayed　the　long　ride。　By　the　time　Joey　G。　started　gagging；　everyone　aboard　had　grown　sick　of　him。　His　preposterous　cryogenics　spiel　had　bee　a　topic　of　open　ridicule　among　the　captives；　even　Hector　admitted　it　was　baloney；　along　with　the　Vietnam　skull…boiling　rap。　Nobody　who　saw　Big　Joey　cram　an　entire　quart　of　diced　conch　into　his　voluminous　cheeks　could've　imagined　him　as　a　soldier　in　any　man's　army；　in　any　war。
　Then　came　the　jolt　of　the　tanker　wake；　a　shower　of　salt　spray；　and　Joey　was　flopping　on　the　deck　like　an　albino　walrus。　Hector　flung　himself　across　the　Gott　cooler　to　prevent　it　from　being　kicked　overboard。　Before　the　others　realized　Big　Joey　wasn't　reenacting　some　ludicrous　jungle…sapper　fantasy；　it　was　over。　All　of　Hector's　strength　was　required　to　jettison　the　prebloated　corpse。
　At　the　splash；　the　elegant　older　Cuban　woman　made　a　sign　of　the　cross。　Her　escort；　the　guy　dressed　up　to　look　like　Castro；　blurted：　〃Doesn't　anybody　here　know　the　Heimlich？〃
　〃Oh　yeah。　The　Heimlich。〃　Hector　peered　over　the　transom。　〃Gee；　I　guess　it's　too　late。〃
　He　cranked　the　outrageous　four　Mercs　and　set　a　course　for　the　Bimini　islands。　〃Bastard；〃　hissed　Fay　Leonard；　but　her　words　were　lost　in　the　high　roar　of　the　big　outboards。
　
　Booger　the　manatee　had　watched　from　a　depth　of　nine　feet　as　the　black　speedboat　idled　from　the　slender　channel　into　Biscayne　Bay。　He　didn't　know　the　boat　was　headed　for　the　ocean；　then　the　Bahamas。　He　didn't　know　who　was　on　board；　or　why。　He　didn't　know　the　dark　purpose　of　the　voyage。
　In　fact　there　was　much　Booger　didn't　know；　wouldn't　know；　couldn't　know；　since　his　brain　was　approximately　the　size　and　plexity　of　a　bocci　ball。　Booger's　breadth　of　rumination　was　therefore　limited　to　a　daily　quest　for　warm　quiet　waters；　tasty　seaweed；　and　（once　in　a　great　while）　clumsy　sea　cow　sex。
　Whatever　had　gotten　into　this　manatee　in　recent　days　coursed　like　a　mysterious　fever；　temporarily　investing　him　with　the　cunning　of　a　dolphin；　the　fierce　agility　of　a　killer　whale；　and　the　dopey　loyalty　of　a　Labrador　retriever。　None　of　those　qualities　typically　was　found　in　Trichechus　manatus…an　ancient；　migratory；　dull；　but　delightfully　docile　hulk　of　mammal。
　The　death　of　the　old　woman；　for　example；　had　stirred　in　Booger　the　utterly　alien　feelings　of　sorrow；　rage；　a　thirst　for　revenge。　No　mere　manatee　was　ever　burdened　by　such　plicated　emotions！　For　most；　bliss　was　never　farther　than　the　next　juicy　clump　of　turtle　grass。
　In　a　way；　Booger's　gunshot　wound　was　a　blessing。　Eventually　the　nagging　sting　in　his　flank　chased　away　the　brain　fever　and　unclouded　his　primordial　thinking。
　Lolling　under　the　dock　at　Big　Joey's　house；　Booger　found　himself　losing　the　insane　urge　to　chase　boats；　slap　his　tail　on　the　surface　like　some　hyperthyroid　beaver；　or　attach　strange　names　（〃Ma〃…what　the　heck　did　that　mean？）　to　pale　wrinkled　humans。
　As　daylight　slipped　away；　Booger　was　cogitating　less　like　a　Disney　character　and　more　like　an　ordinary　sea　cow。　He　no　longer　fretted　over　what　was　happening　in　the　bright　dry　world　above　him。　Likewise；　the　fate　of　other　species　was　no　longer　Booger's　worry…a　kitten　could　either　swim；　or　it　couldn't。　And　presented　with　a　choice　between　rescuing　a　drowning　person　and　dodging　the　propellers　of　a　lunatic　Donzi；　Booger　wouldn't　hesitate　to　dive　for　cover。
　Sorry；　pal。　Every　mammal　for　himself。
　As　darkness　fell；　Booger　swam　slowly　into　the　bay。　He　kept　to　the　shoreline　and　meandered　north　toward　the　familiar　bustle　of　Dinner　Key。　When　he　got　there；　he　was　startled　to　find　swimming　among　the　sailboats　another　manatee；　shy　and　sleek　and　miraculously　un