dk.solesurvivor-第39部分

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　　He　hurried　to　the　front　of　the　car　and　opened　the　hood。
　　The　Honda　was　of　no　use　to　him　any　more。　This　time　they　would　have　concealed　the　transponder　so　well　that　he　would　need　hours　to　find　it。　He　couldn't　drive　it　to　Westwood　and　lead　them　to　Rose；　but　he　couldn't　simply　abandon　it；　either；　because　then　they　would　know　that　he　was　on　to　them。
　　He　needed　to　disable　the　Honda　in　such　a　fashion　that　it　would　appear　to　be　not　sabotage　but　genuine　mechanical　failure。　Eventually　the　people　following　him　would　open　the　hood；　and　if　they　spotted　missing　spark　plugs　or　a　disconnected　distributor　cap；　they　would　know　that　they　had　been　tricked。
　　Then　Barbara　Christman　would　be　in　deeper　trouble　than　ever。　They　would　realize　that　Joe　had　recognized　the　storyteller　on　the　airplane；　that　he　knew　they'd　been　following　him　in　Colorado　…and　that　everything　he'd　said　to　Barbara　on　the　phone　had　been　designed　to　warn　her　and　to　convince　them　that　she　had　not　told　him　anything　important　when；　in　fact；　she　had　told　him　everything。
　　He　carefully　unplugged　the　ignition　control　module　but　left　it　sitting　loosely　in　its　case。　A　casual　inspection　would　not　reveal　that　it　was　disengaged。　Even　if　later　they　searched　until　they　found　the　problem；　they　were　more　likely　to　assume　that　the　ICM　had　worked　loose　on　its　own　rather　than　that　Joe　had　fiddled　with　it。　At　least　they　would　be　left　with　the　element　of　doubt；　affording　Barbara　some　protection。
　　The　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　drove　past　him。
　　He　didn't　look　directly　at　the　truck　but　recognized　it　from　the　corner　of　his　eye。
　　For　a　minute　or　two　he　pretended　to　study　various　things　in　the　engine　partment。　Poking　this。　Wiggling　that。　Scratching　his　head。
　　Leaving　the　hood　up；　he　got　behind　the　wheel　again　and　tried　to　start　the　Honda；　but　of　course　he　had　no　luck。
　　He　got　out　of　the　car　and　went　to　look　at　the　engine　again。
　　Peripherally；　he　saw　that　the　camper　truck　had　turned　off　the　street　at　the　end　of　the　block。　It　had　stopped　in　the　shallow　parking　area　in　front　of　an　empty　industrial　building　that　featured　a　real…estate　agency's　large　For　Sale　sign　on　the　front。
　　He　studied　the　engine　another　minute；　cursing　it　with　energy　and　colour；　just　in　case　they　had　directional　microphones　trained　on　him。
　　Finally　he　slammed　the　hood　and　looked　worriedly　at　his　watch。　　He　stood　indecisively　for　a　moment。　Consulted　his　watch　again。　He　said；　'Shit。'
　　He　walked　back　down　the　street　in　the　direction　he　had　e。　When　he　arrived　at　the　used…car　lot；　he　hesitated　for　effect；　then　walked　directly　to　the　sales　office。
　　Gem　Fittich　Auto　Sales　operated　under　numerous　crisscrossing　stringers　of　yellow　and　white　and　red　plastic　pennants　faded　by　a　summer　of　sun。　In　the　breeze；　they　snapped　like　the　flapping　wings　of　a　perpetually　hovering　flock　of　buzzards　over　more　than　thirty　cars　that　ranged　from　good　stock　to　steel　carrion。
　　The　office　was　in　a　small　prefab　building　painted　yellow　with　red　trim。　Through　the　large　picture　window；　Joe　could　see　a　man　lounging　in　a　spring…back　chair；　loafer…clad　feet　propped　on　a　desk；　watching　a　small　television。
　　As　he　climbed　the　two　steps　and　went　through　the　open　doorway；　he　heard　a　sportscaster　doing　colour　mentary　on　a　baseball　game。
　　The　building　consisted　of　a　single　large　room　with　a　restroom　in　one　corner；　visible　beyond　the　half…open　door。　The　two　desks；　the　four　chairs；　and　the　bank　of　metal　file　cabinets　were　cheap；　but　everything　was　clean　and　neatly　kept。
　　Joe　had　been　hoping　for　dust；　clutter；　and　a　sense　of　quiet　desperation。
　　The　fortyish　salesman　was　cheery…looking；　sandy…haired；　wearing　tan　cotton　slacks　and　a　yellow　polo　shirt。　He　swung　his　feet　off　the　desk；　got　up　from　his　chair；　and　offered　his　hand。　'Howdy！　Didn't　hear　you　drive　up。　I'm　Gem　Fittich。'
　　Shaking　his　hand；　Joe　said；　'Joe　Carpenter。　I　need　a　car。'
　　'You　came　to　the　right　place。'　Fittich　reached　toward　the　portable　television　that　stood　on　his　desk。
　　'No；　that's　okay；　leave　it　on；'　Joe　said。
　　'You're　a　fan；　you　might　not　want　to　see　this　one。　They're　getting　their　butts　kicked。'
　　Right　now　the　transmission…repair　shop　next　door　blocked　them　from　the　surveillance　team。　If　the　camper　truck　appeared　across　the　street；　however；　as　Joe　more　than　half　expected；　and　if　directional　microphones　were　trained　on　the　big　picture　window；　the　audio　from　the　baseball　game　might　have　to　be　turned　up　to　foil　the　listeners。
　　Positioning　himself　so　he　could　talk　to　Fittich　and　look　past　him　to　the　sales　lot　and　the　street；　Joe　said；　'What's　the　cheapest　set　of　wheels　you've　got　ready　to　roll？'
　　'Once　you　consider　my　prices；　you're　going　to　realize　you　can　get　plenty　of　value　without　having　to　settle　for…'
　　'Here's　the　deal；'　Joe　said；　withdrawing　packets　of　hundred　dollar　bills　from　a　jacket　pocket。　'Depending　on　how　it　performs　on　a　test　drive；　I'll　buy　the　cheapest　car　you　have　on　the　lot　right　now；　one　hundred　percent　cash　money；　no　guarantee　required。'
　　Fittich　liked　the　look　of　the　cash。　'Well；　Joe；　I've　got　this　Suburu；　she's　a　long　road　from　the　factory；　but　she's　still　got　life　in　her。　No　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；