ch.nativetongue-第67节

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　〃Please　get　out　of　the　car；〃　the　trooper　said。
　At　which　point　Diamond　J。　Love　attempted　to　speed　away；　and　instead　felt　himself　dragged　by　the　collar　through　the　window　and　deposited　face…first　on　the　macadam。　Upon　regaining　consciousness；　Diamond　J。　Love　discovered　Plasticuffs　cinched　painfully　to　his　wrists　and　ankles。　He　further　was　surprised　to　see　that　he　shared　his　predicament　with　several　other　security　guards；　who　had　apparently　encountered　the　highway　patrol　on　the　pre…dawn　journey　to　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills。　There　sat　Ossie　Cano；　former　Seattle　robbery　detective…turned…fence；　William　Z。　Ames；　former　Orlando　patrolman…turned…pornographer；　Neal　〃Bart〃　Bartkowski；　former　sergeant　with　the　Atlanta　police；　currently　appealing　a　federal　conviction　for　tax　evasion。
　〃The　hell's　going　on　here？〃　demanded　Diamond　J。　Love。
　〃Roadblock；〃　Cano　replied。　
　〃A　one…man　roadblock？〃　
　〃I　heard　him　radio　for　backup。〃　
　〃But　still；〃　said　Diamond　J。　Love。　〃One　guy？〃　
　By　sunrise　there　were　nine　of　them　handcuffed　or　otherwise　detained；　a　row　of　sullen　penguins　lined　up　along　County　Road　905。　Basically　it　was　the　Amazing　Kingdom's　entire　security　force；　except　for　Pedro　Luz　and　one　other　guard；　who　had　spent　the　night　at　the　amusement　park。
　Trooper　Jim　Tile　was　impressed　by　the　accuracy　of　Joe　Winder's　intelligence；　particularly　the　make　and　license　numbers　of　the　guards'　personal　cars…information　pilfered　by　Carrie　Lanier　from　the　files　of　the　Personnel　Department。　Jim　Tile　was　also　impressed　that　not　a　single　one　of　the　guards　had　a　clean　record；　to　a　man　there　arose　problems　with　driver's　licenses；　expired　registration　stickers；　doctored　title　certificates　or　unpaid　traffic　tickets。　Each　of　the　nine　attempted　to　slide　out　of　the　road　check　by　flashing　outdated　police　ID…〃badging；〃　in　cop　vernacular。　Two　of　the　nine　had　offered　Jim　Tile　a　whispered　inducement　of　either　cash　or　narcotics；　three　others　had　sealed　their　fate　by　making　racial　remarks。　All　had　been　disarmed　and　handcuffed　so　swiftly；　and　with　such　force；　that　physical　resistance　had　been　impossible。
　When　the　van　from　the　Monroe　County　Sheriff's　Office　arrived；　the　deputy's　eyes　swept　from　Jim　Tile　to　the　cursing　horde　of　prisoners　and　back　again。
　The　deputy　said；　〃Jimmy；　you　do　this　all　by　yourself？〃
　〃One　at　a　time；〃　the　trooper　answered。　〃A　road　check；　that's　all。〃
　〃I　know　some　of　these　boys。〃
　〃Figured　you　might。〃
　〃We　lookin'　at　anything　serious？〃
　〃We're　considering　it。〃
　From　the　end　of　the　line　came　an　outcry　from　Diamond　J。　Love：　〃Dwight；　you　gonna　let　this　nigger　get　away　with　it？〃
　Jim　Tile　gave　no　indication　of　hearing　the　remark。　The　deputy　named　Dwight　did；　however。　〃Damndest　thing；〃　he　said　in　a　hearty　voice。　〃The　air…conditioning　broke　down　in　the　paddy　wagon。　Just　now　happened。〃
　The　trooper　said；　〃What　a　shame。〃
　〃Gonna　be　a　long　trip　back　to　the　substation。〃
　〃Probably　gets　hot　as　hell　inside　that　van。〃
　〃Like　an　oven；〃　Dwight　agreed　with　a　wink。
　〃Fuck　you！〃　shouted　Diamond　J。　Love。　〃Fuck　the　both　of　you。〃
　
　The　phone　bleeped　in　Charles　Chelsea's　apartment　at　seven…fifteen。　It　might　as　well　have　been　a　bomb。
　〃That　fucking　Pedro；　I　can't　find　him！〃　Who　else　but　Francis　X。　Kingsbury。
　〃Have　you　tried　the　gym？〃　Chelsea　said　foggily。
　〃I　tried　everywhere；　hell；　you　name　it。　And　there's　no　guards！　I　waited　and　waited；　finally　said　fuck　it　and　drove　myself　to　work。〃　He　was　on　the　speaker　phone；　hollering　as　he　stormed　around　the　office。
　〃The　security　men　never　showed　up？〃
　〃Wake　up；　dicklick！　I'm　alone；　prende？　No　Pedro；　no　guards；　nada。〃
　Dicklick？　Charles　Chelsea　sat　up　in　bed　and　shook　his　head　like　a　spaniel。　Do　I　really　deserve　to　be　called　a　dicklick？　Is　that　what　I　get　for　all　my　loyalty？
　Kingsbury　continued　to　fulminate：　〃So　where　in　the　name　of　Christ　Almighty　is　everybody？　Today　of　all　days…is　there　something　you're　not　telling　me；　Charlie？〃
　〃I　haven't　heard　a　thing；　sir。　Let　me　check　into　it。〃　
　〃You　do　that！〃　And　he　was　gone。　
　Chelsea　dragged　himself　to　the　kitchen　and　fine…tuned　the　coffee…maker。　In　less　than　two　hours；　some　lucky　customer　would　breach　the　turnstiles　at　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills　and　be　proclaimed　the　Five…Millionth　Visitor。　Officially；　at　least。　Chelsea　was　fairly　certain　that　at　least　one　enterprising　journalist　would　take　the　time　to　add　up　the　park's　true　attendance　figures　and　expose　the　promotion　for　the　hoax　that　it　was。　The　scene　was　set　for　a　historic　publicity　disaster；　already　the　national　newsmagazines　and　out…of…state　papers　were　snooping　around；　waiting　for　poor　Jake　Harp　to　expire。　In　recent　days　Chelsea's　office　had　been　deluged　with　applications　for　media　credentials　from　publications　that　previously　had　displayed　no　interest　in　covering　the　Amazing　Kingdom's　Summerfest　Jubilee。　Chelsea　wasn't　naive　enough　to　believe　that　the　New　York　Daily　News　was　seriously　interested　in　a　feature　profile　of　the　engineer　who'd　designed　the　Wet　Willy　water　slide；　no；　their　presence　was　explained　by　pure　rampant　bloodlust。　The　kidnapped　mango　voles；　the　dead　scientist；　the　dead　Orky；　the　nearly　dead　Jake　Harp；　flaming　bulldozers；　phony　snake　invasions；　exploding　cement　trucks…an　irresistible　convergence　of　violence；　mayhem　and　mortality！
　Charles　Chelsea　understood　that　the　dispatches　soon　to　be　filed　from　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills　wouldn't　be　bright　or　warm　or　fluffy。　They　would　be　dark　and　ominous　and　chilling。　They　would　describe　a　screaming　rupture　of　the　civil　order；　a　culture　in　terminal　moral　hemorrhage。
　And　this　would　almost　certainly　have　a　negative　effect　on　tourism。　Oh　well；　Chelsea　thought；　I　gave　it　my　best。
　He　foraged　in　the　refrigerator；　unearthed　a　stale　bagel　and　began　gnawing　dauntlessly。　Hearing　a　knock　at　the　door；　he　assumed　that　the　pathologically　impatient　Kingsbury　had　sent　a　car　for　him。
　〃Just　a　second！〃　Chelsea　called；　and　went　to　put　on　a　robe。
　When　he　opened　the　door；　he　faced　the　immutable；　bewhiskered　grin　of　Robbie　Raccoon。
　Who　was　holding；　in　his　three…fingered　polyester　paw；　a　gun。
　Which　was　pointed　at　Charles　Chelsea's　throat。
　〃What's　this？〃　croaked　the　publicity　man。
　〃Show　time；〃　said　Joe　Winder。
　
　THIRTY…TWO
　The　raccoon　suit　was　musty　and　stifling；　but　it　smelled　reassuringly　of　Carrie's　hair　and　perfume。　Even　the　lint　seemed　familiar。　Through　slits　in　the　cheeks　Joe　Winder　was　able　to　see　the　procession：　Bud　Schwartz；　Danny　Pogue　and　the　captive　Charles　Chelsea；　entering　the　gates　of　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills。
　To　affect　Robbie　Raccoon's　most　recognizable　mannerisms；　Winder　took　floppy　exaggerated　steps　（the　way　Carrie　had　showed　him）　and　jauntily　twirled　the　bushy　tail。　In　spite　of　the　serious　circumstances；　he　felt　a　bolt　of　childlike　excitement　as　the　amusement　park　prepared　to　open　for　the　Summerfest　Jubilee。　Outside；　the　trams　were　delivering　waves　of　eager　tourists…the　children　stampeding　rabidly　toward　the　locked　turnstiles；　the　women　bravely　toting　infants　and　designer　baby　bags；　the　men　with　shoulder…mounted　Camcorders　aimed　at　anything　that　moved。　Fruity…colored　balloons　decorated　every　lamppost；　every　shrubbery；　every　concession；　Broadway　show　tunes　blasted　through　tinny　public…address　speakers。　Mimes　and　jugglers　and　musicians　rehearsed　on　street　corners　while　desultory　maintenance　crews　collected　cigarette　butts；　Popsicle　sticks　and　gum　wrappers　off　the　pavement。　A　cowboy　from　the　Wild　Bill　Hiccup　show　tested　his　six…shooter　by　firing　blanks　at　Petey　Possum's　scraggly　bottom。
　〃Show　business；〃　said　Joe　Winder；　〃is　my　life。〃　The　words　echoed　inside　the　plaster　animal　head。
　If　the　costume　had　a　serious　flaw　（besides　the　non…functioning　air　conditioner）；　it　was　a　crucial　lack　of　peripheral　vision。　The　slits；　located　several　inches　below　Robbie　Raccoon's　large　plastic　eyes；　were　much　too　narrow。　Had　the　openings　been　wider；　Winder　would　have　spotted　the　fleshy　pale　hand　in　time　to　evade　it。
　It　was　the　hand　of　famed　TV　weatherman　Willard　Scott；　and　it　dragged　Joe　Winder　in　front　of　a　camera　belonging　to　the　National　Broadcasting　pany。　Danny　Pogue；　Bud　Schwartz　and　Charles　Chelsea　stopped　in　their　tracks：　Robbie　Raccoon　was　on　the　Today　Show。　Live。　Willard　flung　one　meaty　arm　around　Winder's　shoulders；　and　the　other　around　a　grandmother　from　Hialeah　who　said　she　was　107　years　old。　The　old　woman　was　telling　a　story　about　riding　Henry　Flagler's　railroad　all　the　way　to　Key　West。
　〃A　hunnert　and　seven！〃　marveled　Danny　Pogue。
　Charles　Chelsea　shifted　uneasily。　Bud　Schwartz　shot　him　a　look。　〃What；　she's　lying？〃
　Morosely　the　publicity　man　confessed。　〃She's　a　plete　fake。　A　ringer。　I　arranged　the　whole　thing。〃　The　burglars　stared　as　if　he　were　speaking　another　language。　Chelsea　lowered　his　voice：　〃I　had　to　do　it。　Willard　wanted　somebody　over　a　hundred　years　old；　they　told　me　he　might　not　e；　otherwise。　But　I　couldn't　find　anyone　over　a　hundred…ninety…one　was　the　best　I　could　do；　and　the　poor　guy　was　pletely　spaced。　Thought　he　was　Rommel。〃
　Danny　Pogue　whispered；　〃So　who's　she？〃
　〃A　local　actress；〃　Chelsea　said。　〃Age　thirty…eight。　The　makeup　is　remarkable。〃
　〃Christ；　this　is　what　you　do　for　a　living？〃　Bud　Schwartz　turned　to　his　partner。　〃And　I　thought　we　we