ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第24节

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；　the　sky　was　blue；　and　he　was　interviewing　a　hack　actor　named　Brandon　Dash　and　a　skittish　makeup　artist　named　Ziff　Bodine。　And　Raymond　had　bee　totally　convinced　that　the　other　surplus　Castro　head　was　only　a　clever　movie　prop；　and　that　it　was　now　safely　suppurating　in　the　belly　of　a　lemon　shark　at　a　club　named　Hell。
　Which　left　one　remaining　head…the　important　one；　the　correct　one；　the　one　with　the　notch　in　the　ear。　And　that　head；　according　to　Raymond's　contacts；　was　exactly　where　it　was　supposed　to　be。
　Raymond　made　a　brief；　smug　phone　call　to　Washington。　The　man　in　Washington　then　made　a　call　to　Havana。　The　man　in　Havana　then　telephoned　Miami　Beach：　the　Odyssey　Motel。　Room　105。
　Mike　Weston　grabbed　it　on　the　third　ring。　〃What's　the　good　news；　padre？〃
　A　short　pause；　then：　〃Everything's　fine。　We　found　your　lost　luggage。　Where　is　Hector？〃
　〃On　a　seaplane　flying　home　from　Bimini。〃
　〃It　went　well？〃　asked　the　voice　from　Havana。
　〃Perfect。　I　expect　him　any　minute；〃　Weston　said。　〃I'm　already　packing　for　Belize。〃
　〃Don't　go　anywhere　until　you　hear　from　us。　Don't　leave　the　room…you　understand？〃
　〃Hey；　you're　the　boss；〃　Weston　said。
　〃You　do　understand？　Stay　right　where　you　are。〃
　〃I　heard　you　the　first　time。〃　Weston　hung　up　the　phone；　stretched　out　on　the　starchy　motel　sheets；　dialed　up　another　porny　film　on　Spectravision；　and　waited　for　Hector。
　That's　where　Franklin　and　Marlis　found　them　later；　their　insides　decorating　the　room。
　
　Aboard　the　Entrante　Presidente；　the　captives　were　served　lobster　fritters　and　a　tangy　mango　sorbet。　Hunger　overcame　their　pride　and　anxiety。
　Juan　Carlos　Reyes；　who　was　in　a　celebratory　mood；　told　them　what　would　e　next。　〃Of　course　you　will　not　be　killed；　because　there's　no　need。　A　small　launch　will　take　you　from　my　yacht　to　the　Big　Game　Club　in　Bimini。　There　you'll　be　met　by　Bahamian　customs　and　immigration　officers。　For　the　next　several　days；　you　will　have　a　most　difficult　time　trying　to　return　to　Miami。〃
　Britt　Montero　started　to　speak；　but　the　millionaire　cut　her　off。　〃Miss　Montero；　don't　ever　think　about　calling　in　a　story　to　your　newspaper。　Your　cellular　has　already　been　disabled　and　your　acmodations　in　Bimini；　unfortunately；　will　be　too　rustic　for　telephone　jacks。〃
　Britt　said；　〃You'll　never　get　away　with　it。〃
　〃Oh；　I　will。　Easily；　in　fact。　By　the　time　you　get　out；　I'll　be　on　my　way　to　Havana。〃
　Angrily；　Fay　Leonard　said；　〃You　can't　silence　us。〃
　〃Nor　would　I　want　to；〃　said　Juan　Carlos　Reyes。　〃Miss　Leonard；　I'll　have　my　own　version　of　these　events；　which　will　be　substantiated　by　an　esteemed　scientist　from　Harvard；　and　also　by　Mr。　Schwartz；　if　he　still　wishes　to　be　paid　for　his　services。〃
　Mickey　hung　his　head。
　〃My　recollection；〃　Reyes　went　on；　〃is　that　Miss　Leonard　and　Miss　Montero；　having　heard　of　my　million…dollar　offer　for　proof　of　Castro's　death；　greedily　attempted　to　defraud　me。　They　constructed　a　flimsy　hoax　involving　a　Castro　impersonator　and　a　delusional　old　woman；　Miss　Sands；　in　the　hopes　I'd　fall　for　it…〃
　〃That's　ridiculous！〃　Fay　shouted。
　〃Maybe；　maybe　not。〃　Reyes　took　a　sip　of　rum。　〃Miss　Montero；　do　your　readers　know　how　little　your　newspaper　pays　you？　A　million　dollars　would　buy　lots　of　cat　food；　no？〃
　Britt　chewed　her　lower　lip；　and　thought　of　her　callow　young　editors。　Assuming　her　story　would　eventually　get　published；　she　wondered　what　she　could　possibly　write　about　the　severed　heads　that　would　make　any　sense。
　Juan　Carlos　Reyes　rose。　〃Randy　will　take　you　to　the　launch。〃　He　bowed　slightly　toward　Lilia。　〃I'm　sorry　your　heart　is　broken；　Miss　Sands；　but　I'm　not　at　all　sorry　your　infamous　lover　is　dead。　My　only　regret　is　that　I　didn't　kill　him　myself。〃
　〃As　if　you　could；〃　Lilia　said　venomously。　〃Little　cockroach　that　you　are。　Cowardly　limp…noodled…〃
　〃Enough；〃　Mickey　Schwartz　cut　in。
　〃…rotten　little　crook！〃
　Juan　Carlos　Reyes　wagged　a　mocking　finger　at　Lilia　Sands。　〃Now　is　that　any　way；〃　he　asked；　〃to　address　the　next　president　of　a　free　Cuba？〃
　It　was　a　good　plan；　a　solid　plan。　A　plan　that　would've　worked；　if　only　the　real　Fidel　Castro　had　not　been　insulted；　propositioned；　and　mugged　in　broad　daylight　on　Miami　Beach。
　
　The　messy　murders　of　the　two　men　in　room　105…that　hadn't　bothered　Castro；　for　he'd　known　of　it　in　advance。　He　even　knew　what　the　police　still　did　not　know：　the　victims'　names　（Hector　Pupo　and　Mike　Weston）；　and　why　they'd　had　to　die　（they　were　loud；　careless；　and　knew　too　much）。
　A　security　matter　handled　by　experts　who　made　it　look　amateurish…Fidel　understood　such　things。
　However；　the　arrival　of　the　perky　cleanup　crew　had　put　him　on　edge。　Castro　was　rattled　by　the　knowledge　that　murders　were　so　mon　in　South　Florida　that　swabbing　up　crime　scenes　was　a　full…time　trade；　and　evidently　a　lucrative　one。
　Franklin　and　Marlis；　the　workers　who　came　to　room　105；　were　too　talky　and　inquisitive。　They　stared　dubiously　at　Fidel's　Korean…made　toupee；　and　posed　snoopy　questions　disguised　as　banter。　Fidel；　as　usual；　pretended　not　to　understand　English。　It　was　all　he　could　do　not　to　retch　during　Franklin's　graphic　monologue　about　the　effects　of　gastric　acids　on　suede　upholstery。
　Castro　realized　that　if　Franklin　and　Marlis　somehow　recognized　him；　they　could　with　one　well…placed　phone　call　generate　more　business　for　themselves；　and　perhaps　even　the　gratuity　of　a　lifetime。　Once　Castro　gave　a　subtle　tug　on　his　good　earlobe；　three　stocky　men　in　guayaberas　materialized　to　escort　the　voluble　cleaners　off　the　premises。　Meanwhile　Fidel　slipped　into　his　room　and　changed　into　a　bathing　suit；　an　absurd　vermilion　slingshot　which　was　（Cuban　intelligence　had　assured　him）　the　prevailing　beachside　attire　of　old；　pallid；　pudgy　male　tourists。
　The　outfit　worked　too　well；　the　swimsuit　a　beacon。　Strolling　alone　on　the　sand；　Fidel　was　scarcely　a　hundred　yards　from　the　motel　when　a　gum…popping　prostitute　offered　to　〃rock　your　world；　Gramps；〃　for　fifty　U。S。　dollars。　Her　efforts　at　detaching　his　red　thong　were　interrupted　by　a　wiry　ferret…eyed　man　who　roughly　knocked　Castro　down；　stuck　a　pistol　in　his　belly；　and　stripped　off　the　gold　Cartier　wristwatch　he'd　received　as　a　gift　on　a　state　visit　to　Paris。
　Fidel　didn't　recognize　the　robber；　but　he　recognized　the　prison　tattoos　on　the　man's　grimy　knuckles。　binado　del　Este！　With　amazement　Castro　realized　he　was　being　mugged　by　a　thug　that　he　himself　had　sprung　from　prison　and　put　on　a　boat　to　Key　West　in　1980。　The　bleak　beautiful　irony　made　him　cough　up　blood。
　Numbed　by　the　morphine；　Fidel　felt　more　indignity　than　pain　as　the　mugger　ran　away。　Before　the　old　man　could　rise　to　his　knees；　a　red…haired　urchin　no　older　than　six　plucked　the　hairpiece　from　his　scalp　and　dashed　down　the　beach；　shouting　to　his　mother　that　he'd　found　a　dead　crow。
　Castro；　feeling　himself　hoisted　by　the　armpits；　reasonably　anticipated　dismemberment　or　evisceration。
　〃Easy；〃　said　the　voice；　which　belonged　to　a　motel　security　guard。　The　cheap　badge　on　his　shirt　said　〃Joe　Sereno。〃　Fidel　was　grateful　to　see　him。
　〃You　all　right？〃　Sereno　asked。　〃Man；　you　don't　look　so　good。〃
　In　perfect　English；　Castro　gasped；　〃What　is　this　craziness？　These　monsters？〃
　〃Just　another　day　at　the　beach。〃　Sereno　smiled　ruefully。　〃The　problem；　see；　it　started　when　they　went　to　topless。　The　guys；　old　tourist　guys　like　yourself；　e　down　here　to　stare　at　the　cuties。　Am　I　right？　The　gangs；　hookers；　scumbags…they　all　know　this。　So　they　hang　on　this　stretch；　just　waiting。〃
　Fidel　morosely　dusted　the　grit　from　his　chest。　Sereno　gently　led　him　back　toward　the　Odyssey。　〃I　mean；　you're　a　criminal　it's　not　such　a　bad　deal。　Get　a　tan。　Enjoy　the　naked　babes。　Mug　a　few　Germans　and　Canadians；　and　that's　your　day。〃
　〃Why；〃　rasped　Castro；　〃aren't　these　terrible　people　in　jail！〃
　Joe　Sereno　burst　out　laughing。　〃Where　you　from；　old…timer…Mars？　e　on；　let　me　take　you　back　to　your　room。〃
　〃Thank　you；　officer。〃
　〃By　the　way；　there's　something　I　gotta　ask。〃
　Fidel's　jaws　clenched。　The　security　guy　was　eyeing　him　closer　now；　the　way　the　cleaners　had。
　〃Your　name；〃　said　Sereno；　〃it's　not　really　Garcia；　is　it？〃
　Less　than　two　hours　later；　a　chartered　Gulfstream　jet　landed　at　the　Opa…Locka　airport；　where　it　was　met　by　a　black　Chevy　Blazer。　Four　men　got　out　and　moved　toward　the　plane。　The　tallest　one　walked　slowly；　as　if　in　pain。　The　others　could　be　seen　helping　him　up　the　stairs。　Minutes　later；　a　station　wagon　arrived　and　a　fifth　person；　a　woman　in　a　long　gown；　was　led　to　the　jet。
　The　flight　plan　indicated　the　Gulfstream　would　be　heading　nonstop　to　Kingston；　Jamaica。　This　was　a　fib。　The　destination　was　Havana。　Fidel　Castro　was　going　home　to　die。
　Miami　was　too　damn　scary。　The　deal　was　off。
　
　The　remaining　severed　head；　the　one　Juan　Carlos　Reyes　imagined　would　make　him　president　of　Cuba；　belonged　to　another　expendable　Castro　double；　Jose　Paz…Gutierrez。
　This　fact　was　known　to　Castro　himself；　Cuban　State　Security；　the　CIA；　and　of　course　Lilia　Sands；　who…on　numerous　long…ago　lonely　nights；　when　Fidel　was　away…had　slept　with　Jose　Paz…Gutierrez　at　a　farmhouse　in　Camagiiey。　Of　course　she'd　saved　a　lock　of　Jose's　hair；　as　she　did　for　all　her　lovers。
　No　one　was　less　surprised　than　Lilia　when　Reyes's　DNA　expert　matched　with　。9999995　certainty　th