dk.solesurvivor-第48节

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o　air…conditioning　but　radio　and…'
　　'How　much？'
　　'Well；　now；　I've　done　some　work　on　her；　have　her　tagged　at　twenty…one　hundred　fifty；　but　I'll　let　you　have　her　for　nineteen　seventy…five。　She…'
　　Joe　considered　offering　less；　but　every　minute　counted；　and　considering　what　he　was　going　to　ask　of　Fittich；　he　decided　that　he　wasn't　in　a　position　to　bargain。　He　interrupted　the　salesman　to　say；　'I'll　take　it。'
　　After　a　disappointingly　slow　day　in　the　iron…horse　trade；　Gem　Fittich　was　clearly　torn　between　pleasure　at　the　prospect　of　a　sale　and　uneasiness　at　the　way　in　which　they　had　arrived　at　terms。　He　smelled　trouble。　'You　don't　want　to　take　a　test　drive？'
　　Putting　two　thousand　in　cash　on　Fittich's　desk；　Joe　said；　'That　is　exactly　what　I　want　to　do。　Alone。'
　　Across　the　street；　a　tall　man　appeared　on　foot；　ing　from　the　direction　in　which　the　camper　truck　was　parked。　He　stood　in　the　shade　of　a　bus…stop　shelter。　If　he'd　sat　on　the　shelter　bench；　his　view　of　the　sales　office　would　have　been　hampered　by　the　merchandise　parked　in　front　of　it。
　　Alone？'　Fittich　asked；　puzzled。
　　'You've　got　the　whole　purchase　price　there　on　the　desk；'　Joe　said。　From　his　wallet；　he　withdrew　his　driver's　license　and　handed　it　to　Fittich。　'I　see　you　have　a　Xerox。　Make　a　copy　of　my　license。'
　　The　guy　at　the　bus…stop　was　wearing　a　short…sleeve　shirt　and　slacks；　and　he　wasn't　carrying　anything。　Therefore；　he　wasn't　equipped　with　a　high…power；　long…range　listening　device；　he　was　just　keeping　watch。
　　Fittich　followed　the　direction　of　Joe's　gaze　and　said；　'What　trouble　am　I　getting　into　here？'
　　Joe　met　the　salesman's　eyes。　'None。　You're　clear。　You're　just　doing　business。'
　　'Why's　that　fella　at　the　bus　stop　interest　you？'
　　'He　doesn't。　He's　just　a　guy。'
　　Fittich　wasn't　deceived。　'If　what's　actually　happening　here　is　a　purchase；　not　just　a　test　drive；　then　there're　state　forms　we　have　to　fill　out；　sales　tax　to　be　collected；　legal　procedures。'
　　'But　it's　just　a　test　drive；'　Joe　said。
　　He　checked　his　wristwatch。　He　wasn't　pretending　to　be　worried　about　the　hour　now；　he　was　genuinely　concerned。
　　'All　right；　look；　Mr。　Fittich；　no　more　bullshit。　I　don't　have　time。　This　is　going　to　be　even　better　for　you　than　a　sale；　because　here's　what's　going　to　happen。　You　take　that　money　and　stick　it　in　the　back　of　a　desk　drawer。　Nobody　ever　has　to　know　I　gave　it　to　you。　I'll　drive　the　Suburu　to　where　I　have　to　go；　which　is　only　someplace　on　the　West　Side。　I'd　take　my　own　car；　but　they've　got　a　tracking　device　on　it；　and　I　don't　want　to　be　followed。　I'll　abandon　the　Suburu　in　a　safe　area　and　call　you　by　tomorrow　to　let　you　know　where　it　is。　You　bring　it　back；　and　all　that's　happened　is　you've　rented　your　cheapest　car　for　one　day　for　two　thousand　Bucks　tax　free。　The　worst　that　happens　is　I　don't　call。　You've　still　got　the　money…and　a　theft　write…off。'
　　Fittich　turned　the　driver's　license　over　and　over　in　his　hand。　'Is　somebody　going　to　ask　me　why　I'd　let　you　make　a　test　drive　alone　even　with　a　copy　of　your　license？'
　　'The　guy　looked　honest　to　me；'　Joe　said；　feeding　Fittich　the　lines　he　could　use。　'It　was　his　picture　on　the　license。　And　I　just　couldn't　leave；　'cause　I　expected　a　call　from　a　hot　prospect　who　came　in　earlier　and　might　buy　the　best　piece　of　iron　I　have　on　the　lot。　Didn't　want　to　risk　missing　that　call。'
　　'You　got　it　all　figured　out；'　Fittich　said。
　　His　manner　changed。　The　easy…going；　smiley…faced　salesman　was　a　chrysalis　from　which　another　Gem　Fittich　was　emerging；　a　version　with　more　angles　and　harder　edges。
　　He　stepped　to　the　Xerox　and　switched　it　on。
　　Nevertheless；　Joe　sensed　that　Fittich　had　not　yet　made　up　his　mind。　'The　fact　is；　Mr。　Fittich；　even　if　they　e　in　here　and　ask　you　some　questions；　there's　nothing　they　could　do　to　you…and　nothing　they'd　want　to　bother　doing。'
　　'You　in　the　drug　trade？'　Fittich　asked　bluntly。
　　'No。'
　　〃Cause　I　hate　people　who　sell　drugs。'
　　'I　do　too。'
　　'Ruining　our　kids；　ruining　what's　left　of　our　country。'
　　'I　couldn't　agree　more。'
　　'Not　that　there　is　much　left。'　Fittich　glanced　through　the　window　at　the　man　at　the　bus　stop。　'They　cops？'
　　'Not　really。'
　　〃Cause　I　support　the　cops。　They　got　a　hard　job　these　days；　trying　to　uphold　the　law　when　the　biggest　criminals　are　some　of　our　own　elected　officials。'
　　Joe　shook　his　head。　'These　aren't　any　kind　of　cops　you've　ever　heard　of。'
　　Fittich　thought　for　a　while；　and　then　he　said；　'That　was　an　honest　answer。'
　　'I'm　being　as　truthful　with　you　as　I　can　be。　But　I'm　in　a　hurry。
　　They　probably　think　I'm　in　here　to　call　a　mechanic　or　a　tow　truck　or　something。　If　I'm　going　to　get　that　Suburu；　I　want　it　to　be　now；　before　they　maybe　tumble　to　what　I'm　really　doing。'
　　After　glancing　at　the　window　and　the　bus　stop　across　the　street；　Fittich　said；　'They　government？'
　　'For　all　intents　and　purposes…yeah。'
　　'You　know　why　the　drug　problem　just　grows？'　Fittich　said。　'It's　because　half　this　current　group　of　politicians；　they've　been　paid　off　to　let　it　happen　and；　hell；　a　bunch　of　the　bastards　are　even　users　themselves；　so　they　don't　care。'
　　Joe　said　nothing；　for　fear　that　he　would　say　the　wrong　thing。　He　didn't　know　the　cause　of　Fittich's　anger　with　authority。　He　could　easily　misspeak　and　be　viewed　suddenly　as　not　a　like…thinker　but　as　one　of　the　enemy。
　　Frowning；　Gem　Fittich　made　a　Xerox　copy　of　the　driver's　license。　He　returned　the　laminated　card　to　Joe；　who　put　it　away　in　his　wallet。
　　At　the　desk　again；　Fittich　stared　at　the　money。　He　seemed　to　be　disturbed　about　cooperating…not　because　he　was　worried　about　getting　in　trouble　but　because　the　moral　dimension；　in　fact；　was　of　concern　to　him。　Finally　he　sighed；　opened　a　drawer；　and　slid　the　two　thousand　into　it。
　　From　another　drawer；　he　withdrew　a　set　of　keys　and　handed　them　to　Joe。
　　Taking　them　gratefully；　Joe　said；　'Where　is　it？'
　　Fittich　pointed　at　the　car　through　the　window。　'Half　an　hour；　I　probably　got　to　call　the　cops　and　report　it　stolen；　just　to　cover　myself。'
　　'I　understand。　With　luck；　I'll　be　where　I'm　going　by　then。'
　　'Hell；　don't　worry；　they　won't　even　look　for　it　anyway。　You　could　use　it　a　week　and　never　get　nailed。'
　　'I　will　call　you；　Mr。　Fittich；　and　tell　you　exactly　where　I　left　it。'
　　'I　expect　you　will。'　As　Joe　reached　the　open　door；　Fittich　said；　'Mr。　Carpenter；　do　you　believe　in　the　end　of　all　things？'
　　Joe　paused　on　the　threshold。　'Excuse　me？'
　　The　Gem　Fittich　who　had　emerged　from　the　chrysalis　of　the　cheerful　salesman　was　not　merely　harder　edged　and　edgier；　he　also　had　peculiar　eyes…eyes　different　from　what　they　had　been；　full　of　not　anger　but　an　unnerving　pensiveness。　'The　end　of　time　in　our　time；　the　end　of　this　mess　of　a　world　we've　made；　all　of　it　just　suddenly　rolled　up　and　put　away　like　an　old　moth…eaten　rug。'
　　'I　suppose　it's　got　to　end　some　day；'　Joe　said。
　　'Not　some　day。　Soon。　Doesn't　it　seem　to　you　that　wrong　and　right　have　all　got　turned　upside　down；　that　we　don't　even　half　know　the　difference　any　more？'
　　'Yes。'
　　'Don't　you　wake　up　sometimes　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　feel　it　ing？　Like　a　tidal　wave　a　thousand　miles　high；　hanging　over　us；　darker　than　the　night　and　cold；　going　to　crash　over　us　and　sweep　us　all　away？'
　　'Yes；'　Joe　said　softly　and　truthfully。　'Yes；　I've　often　felt　just　that　in　the　middle　of　the　night。'
　　The　tsunami　looming　over　Joe　in　dark　hours　was　of　an　entirely　personal　nature；　however：　the　loss　of　his　family；　towering　so　high　that　it　blocked　the　stars　and　prevented　him　from　seeing　the　future。　He　had　often　longed　to　be　swept　away　by　it。
　　He　sensed　that　Fittich；　sunk　in　some　deep　moral　weariness；　also　longed　for　a　delivering　apocalypse。　Joe　was　disquieted　and　surprised　to　discover　he　shared　this　melancholy　with　the　car　salesman。
　　The　discovery　disturbed　him；　because　this　expectation　that　the　end　of　all　things　loomed　was　profoundly　dysfunctional　and　antisocial；　an　illness　from　which　he　himself　was　only　beginning　to　recover　with　great　difficulty；　and　he　feared　for　a　society　in　which　such　gloom　was　widespread。
　　'Strange　times；'　Fittich　said；　as　Joe　had　said　weird　times　to　Barbara　a　short　while　ago。　'They　scare　me。'　He　went　to　his　chair；　put　his　feet　on　the　desk；　and　stared　at　the　ball　game　on　television。　'Better　go　now。'
　　With　the　flesh　on　the　nape　of　his　neck　as　crinkled　as　crepe　paper；　Joe　walked　outside　to　the　yellow　Suburu。
　　Across　the　street；　the　man　at　the　bus　stop　looked　impatiently　left　and　right；　as　though　disgruntled　about　the　unreliability　of　public　transportation。
　　The　engine　of　the　Suburu　turned　over　at　once；　but　it　sounded　tinny。　The　steering　wheel　vibrated　slightly。　The　upholstery　was　worn；　and　pine…fragrant　solvents　didn't　quite　mask　the　sour　scent　of　cigarette　smoke　that　over　the　years　had　saturated　the　vinyl　and　the　carpet。
　　Without　looking　at　the　man　in　the　bus…stop　shelter；　Joe　drove　out　of　the　lot。　He　turned　right　and　headed　up　the　street　past　his　abandoned　Honda。
　　The　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　was　still　parked　in　front　of　the　untenanted　industrial　building。
　　When　Joe　reached　the　intersection　just　past　the　camper　truck；　there　was　no　cross　traffic。　He　slo