chiaasen.stormyweather-第48节

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dividually　briefed　him　on　the　importance　of　the　Guadalajara　mission。　Success；　Max　knew；　would　guarantee　a　long　and　lucrative　career　at　the　agency。　A　home　run；　is　how　one　of　the　honchos　had　put　it。　Turning　the　old　man　around　would　be　a　grand…slam　homer　in　the　bottom　of　the　ninth。　Clyde　Nottage　was　one　crusty　old　prick。
　
　A　cab　took　Max　Lamb　to　the　Aragon　Clinic；　a　two…story　stucco　building；　freshly　painted　and　lushly　landscaped；　in　a　residential　sub…division　of　the　city。　The　lobby　of　the　clinic　showed　evidence　of　recent　remodeling；　which　unfortunately　had　not　included　central　air。　Max　loosened　his　necktie　and　took　a　seat。　On　a　glass　table　was　a　stack　of　informational　pamphlets　printed　in　Spanish。　Curious；　Max　picked　one　up。　On　the　first　page　was　a　drawing　of　a　male　sheep　with　an　arrow　pointing　between　its　hind　legs。
　
　Max　returned　the　pamphlet　to　the　table。　He　wanted　a　smoke；　but　a　sign　on　the　wall　said　〃No　Fumar。〃　A　drop　of　sweat　rolled　down　his　jawline。　Max　dabbed　it　away　with　a　handkerchief。
　
　A　man　wearing　a　white　medical　coat　came　out；　a　pale…eyed　American　in　his　mid…sixties。　He　introduced　himself　as　Dr　Caulk；　Mr。　Nottage's　physician。
　
　〃When　may　I　see　him？〃　Max　Lamb　asked。
　
　〃In　a　few　minutes。　He's　finishing　his　treatment。〃
　
　〃How's　he　doing？〃
　
　〃Better；　by　and　large；〃　said　Dr　Caulk；　enigmatically。
　
　The　chat　turned　to　the　clinic；　and　cancer。　The　doctor　asked　Max　Lamb　if　he　was　a　smoker。
　
　〃Just　started。〃
　
　〃Started？〃　The　doctor　looked　incredulous。
　
　〃Long　story；〃　Max　said。
　
　〃Mister　Nottage　smokes　four　packs　a　day。〃
　
　〃I'd　heard　six。〃
　
　〃Oh；　we've　got　him　down　to　four；〃　said　the　doctor。　He　gave　the　impression　it　was　a　contest　of　wills。
　
　Max　Lamb　inquired　about　the　unusual　nature　of　the　tumor　treatments。　Dr　Caulk　took　full　credit。
　
　〃We're　really　onto　something；〃　he　told　Max。　〃So　far；　the　results　have　been　quite　astounding。〃
　
　〃What　made　you　think　to　try　。。。　you　know…〃
　
　〃Sheep　semen？〃　Dr　Caulk　gave　a　wise　smile。　〃Actually　it's　quite　an　interesting　story。〃
　
　As　Max　Lamb　listened；　he　wondered　if　the　deepening　consternation　showed　on　his　face。　The　Caulk　therapy　was　based　entirely　upon　the　casual　observation　that　male　sheep　have　a　low　incidence　of　lung　cancer。
　
　〃paredto。。。　？〃
　
　The　doctor　slyly　wagged　a　finger　at　Max。　〃Now　you　sound　just　like　the　PDA。〃　He　folded　his　hands　and　leaned　forward。　〃I　suppose　you're　curious　about　how　we　collect　the　semen。〃
　
　〃Not　in　the　slightest；〃　said　Max；　forcefully。
　
　A　mountainous　nurse　appeared　at　the　doctor's　shoulder。　She　said　Mr。　Nottage's　afternoon　treatment　was　pleted。　Dr　Caulk　took　Max　to　the　old　man's　room。
　
　Outside　the　door；　the　doctor　dropped　his　voice。　〃I'll　leave　you　two　alone。　Lately　he's　been　a　bit　cranky　with　me。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　had　met　Clyde　Nottage　Jr　only　once　before；　on　a　golf　course　in　Raleiglj。　The　robust；　fiery；　blue…eyed　curmudgeon　that　he　remembered　bore　no　resemblance　to　the　gaunt；　gray…skinned　invalid　in　the　hospital　bed。
　
　Until　Clyde　Nottage　opened　his　mouth：　〃The　hell　you　staring　at；　boy？〃
　
　Max　pulled　a　chair　to　the　side　of　the　bed。　He　sat　down　and　positioned　the　briefcase　on　his　lap。
　
　〃Gimme　cigaret；〃　Nottage　muttered。
　
　As　Max　inserted　a　Bronco　in　the　old　man's　bloodless　lips；　he　said；　〃Sir；　did　the　doctor　tell　you　I　was　ing？　How　are　you　feeling？〃
　
　Nottage　ignored　him。　He　plucked　the　cigaret　from　his　mouth　and　eyed　it　ruefully。　〃What　they　say　is　true；　all　true。　About　these　goddamn　things　causing　cancer。　I　know　it's　a　fact。　So　do　you。　So　does　the　goddamn　guv'ment。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　was　uneasy。　〃It's　a　choice　people　make；〃　he　said。
　
　Nottage　laughed；　a　tubercular　snuffle。　With　a　shaky　hand　he　returned　the　cigaret　to　his　mouth。　Max　lit　it　for　him。
　
　The　old　man　said；　〃They　got　you　trained　good。　Look　at　me；　boy…you　heard　about　the　sheep　jizz？〃
　
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　
　〃I　got　a　tumor　the　size　of　a　Cuban　mango　in　my　chest；　and　I'm　down　to　sheep　jizz。　My　last　earthly　hope。〃
　
　〃The　doctor　said…〃
　
　〃Oh；　fuck　him。〃　Nottage　paused　to　suck　defiantly　on　the　Bronco。　〃You're　here　about　the　ads；　right？　Rodale　sent　you　to　change　my　mind。〃
　
　〃Sir；　the　NIH　report　was　news…bad　news；　to　be　sure。　But　they　were　only　doing　their　jobs；　the　newspapers　and　magazines。　They　had　to　print　the　story；　it　was　all　over　television…〃
　
　Clyde　Nottage　laughed　until　his　nose　ran。　He　wiped　it　with　a　hairless　withered　forearm。　〃Christ；　you　missed　the　point。　They　all　did。〃
　
　The　old　man's　jocular　tone　gave　Max　a　false　burst　of　hope。
　
　〃I　yanked　those　damn　ads；〃　Nottage　went　on；　〃because　I　was　pissed。　That　much　is　true。　But　I　wasn't　mad　they　published　the　cancer　report。〃
　
　〃Then　why？〃
　
　An　inch　of　dead　ash　fell　from　the　old　man's　cigaret　onto　the　sheets。　He　tried　to　blow　it　away；　but　the　exertion　of　laughing　had　sapped　him；　his　lungs　moaned　under　the　strain。　After　regaining　his　breath；　he　said：　〃The　real　reason　I　was　pissed；　they're　fuckin'　hypocrites。　They　tell　the　whole　world　we　peddle　poison；　put　it　on　the　front　page。　Yet　they're　delighted　to　take　our　money　and　advertise　that　very　saame　poison。　Greedy　cocksuckin　hypocrites；　and　you　may　quote　me　to　the　boys　in　New　York。〃
　
　Max　Lamb　realized　the　conversation　had　taken　a　perilous　turn。　He　said；　〃It's　just　business；　sir。〃
　
　〃Well；　it's　a　business　I'm　gettin'　out　of。　Right　now。　Before　I　leave　this　sorry　world。〃
　
　Max　waited　for　a　punch　line　that　didn't　e。　He　felt　a　quaking　in　his　bowels。
　
　Clyde　Nottage　deposited　the　smoldering　Bronco　butt　in　a　plastic　cup　of　orange　juice。　〃As　of　this　morning；　Durham　Gas　Meat　&　Tobacco　is　Durham　Gas　Meat。〃
　
　〃Please；〃　Max　Lamb　blurted。　〃Wait　on　this；　please。　You're　not　feeling　well　enough　to　make　such　an　important　decision。〃
　
　〃I'm　dying；　yoir　fucking　idiot。　Three　times　a　day　some　nurse　looks　like　Pancho　Villa　shoots　sheep　cum　into　my　belly。　Damn　right　I　don't　feel　well。　Gimme　Kleenex。〃
　
　Max　handed　him　a　box　of　tissues　from　the　bed　tray。　Nottage　snatched　one　and　hacked　fiercely　into　it。
　
　〃Mister　Nottage；　I　urge　you　not　to　do　anything　right　now。〃
　
　〃Hell；　it's　already　done。　Made　the　call　this　morning。〃　Nottage　spit　again。　He　opened　the　tissue　and　examined　the　contents　with　a　clinical　eye。　〃Last　time　I　checked；　I　still　had　fifty…one　percent　of　the　pany　stock。　You　wasted　a　perfectly　good　airplane　ticket；　boy。　The　decision's　made。〃
　
　Max　Lamb；　queasy　with　despair；　began　to　protest。　Nottage　hunched　forward；　cupped　his　palms　to　his　face　and　broke　into　a　volcanic　spasm　of　coughing。
　
　Max　jumped　away　from　the　bed。　〃Shall　I　get　Dr　Caulk？〃
　
　The　old　man　gazed　into　his　hands　and　said；　〃Oh　shit。〃
　
　Max　edged　closer。　〃Are　you　all　right？〃
　
　〃Considering　I'm　holding　a　piece　of　my　own　goddamn　lung。〃
　
　〃God！〃　Max　turned　away。
　
　〃Who　knows；〃　the　old　man　mused；　〃it　might　be　worth　something　someday。　Put　it　in　the　Smithsonian；　like　Dillinger's　dick。〃
　
　He　drew　back　his　frail　right　arm　and　lobbed　the　rancid　chunk　of　tissue　at　the　wall；　where　it　hung　like　a　gob　of　salsa。
　
　Max　Lamb　bolted　from　the　room。　Moments　later；　Clyde　Nottage　Jr　put　his　head　on　the　pillow　and　died　with　a　merry　wheeze。　The　expression　on　his　face　was　purely　triumphant。
　
　Dennis　Reedy　possessed　an　inner　radar　for　potential　trouble。　His　legendary　instincts　had　saved　Midwest　Casualty　many　millions　of　dollars　over　the　years；　so　his　services　as　a　claims　supervisor　were　prized　at　the　home　office　in　Omaha。　Reedy　was　an　obvious　choice　to　lead　the　Hurricane　Crisis　Team：　South　Florida　was　the　insurance…scam　capital　of　the　nation；　and　Reedy　knew　the　territory　inside　and　out。
　
　His　radar　went　on　full　alert　at　15600　Calusa　Drive。　The　injury　to　the　man's　jaw　was　old；　and　healed。　But　there　was　another　prospective　problem。
　
　〃Mister　Torres；〃　Reedy　said；　〃how'd　you　hurt　that　leg？〃
　
　Annoyed；　the　man　looked　up　from　the　BarcaLounger。　〃It　was　the　storm；〃　he　said。
　
　Reedy　turned　stiffly　to　Fred　Dove。　〃You　didn't　mention　this。〃
　
　〃They're　not　filing　a　claim　on　the　injury。〃
　
　Reedy　suppressed　the　urge　to　guffaw　in　young　Fred　Dove's　face。　Antonio　Torres　was　a　textbook　profile　of　a　nuisance　claimant。　He　was　disfigured；　morose　and　unsociable…precisely　the　sort　of　malcontent　who'd　have　no　qualms　about　defrauding　an　insurance　pany。　The　notion　might　not　have　occurred　to　Torres　yet；　but　it　would。
　
　Dennis　Reedy　asked　him　how　the　accident　had　happened。　Mr。　Torres　shot　a　look　at　Mrs。　Torres；　standing　next　to　Fred　Dove。　Reedy　detected　nervous　animosity　in　the　husband's　expression。
　
　Mr。　Torres　began　to　speak；　but　his　wife　cut　in　to　answer：　〃Tony　got　hit　by　a　roof　beam。〃
　
　〃Oh？〃
　
　〃While　he　was　walking　the　dogs。　Down　the　end　of　the　street。〃
　
　Fred　Dove　smiled　inwardly　with　relief。　Boy；　she　was　good。　And　quick！
　
　Reedy　said；　〃So　the　accident　didn't　happen　here　on　the　property？〃
　
　〃No；〃　replied　Edie　Marsh；　〃but　I　wish　it　did。　Then　we'd　know　who　to　sue。〃
　
　They　all　chuckled；　except　Snapper。　He　stared　contemptuously　at　the　emblem　of　a　growling　badger；　stitched　to　the　breast　of　Dennis　Reedy's　corporate　blazer。
　
　〃I　hope　you　don't　mind　my　asking　about　the　accid