ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第18部分

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　In　Dania：　When　housewife　Sabrina　Kennedy　saw　the　face　of　Mickey　Schwartz　on　the　door　of　her　Kelvinator　refrigerator；　saw　it　blossom　to　life　like　a　Polaroid　photograph；　why；　she　called　Tristan　Jude；　Dania　correspondent　for　the　Broward　Sun…Tattler　and　invited　him　over　to　see　for　himself。　He　wanted　to　know　what　she　thought　this　meant。　Well；　she　said；　it　means；　apparently；　that　I'm　going　to　win　the　lottery　in　the　very　near　future。　Yes；　she　had　to　agree　with　Tristan；　this　could　possibly　be　Mickey's　double；　that　Cuban　dude；　in　which　case　she　figured　she'd　meet　some　tall；　dark　stranger。　Miracles　aren't　ordinary；　she　told　him。　Life's　no　accident。　Everything　means　something。
　
　On　Desi　Arnaz　Boulevard：　Big　Joey　G。　leaned　against　the　fireplace；　his　arm　resting　on　the　onyx　mantel；　in　his　hand　a　Vietnamese　trophy　skull。　〃We　boiled　the　flesh　off　the　VC　skulls；〃　he　told　Britt。　〃We　made　table　ornaments；　ashtrays；　candy　dishes；　like　this　fellow　here。　I　call　him　Tranh。　Sometimes　we　carved　their　ulnas　into　letter　openers；　their　fingers　into　whistles。〃　He　set　the　skull　on　the　mantel；　sat　in　the　club　chair　across　from　Britt。　〃Happiest　days　of　my　life；　the　war。〃
　〃And　now　you　find　yourself　playing　with　skulls　again；〃　Britt　said。　〃How　funny。〃
　〃Not　playing；　Ms。　Montero。　Neurosuspension　is　not　a　game。〃　Big　Joey　explained　the　process：　A　cryonicist　opens　the　subject's　chest；　injects　cryopreservatives　and　cooling　solutions　through　the　blood　vessels　to　preserve　the　brain。　He　then　severs　the　head　at　the　sixth　cervical　vertebra；　submerges　the　skull　in　a　silicone　oil　bath　with　dry　ice　for　twenty…four　hours。　〃Then　we　pop　the　noodle　in　a　neurocan　and　cool　it　in　liquid　nitrogen　for　ten　days。''
　Britt　stretched　her　shackled　legs　on　the　couch。　〃Why　just　the　head？　Why　not　the　whole　body？　Why　not　a　corpsicle？〃
　〃Cephalic　isolation　is　economical；　portable。　The　body　isn't　very　useful　really。〃
　〃Speak　for　yourself。〃
　〃Eventually；　we　bring　back　the　cryonaut；　and　he's　himself；　only　we　make　him　better　because　we　provide　an　engineered　body；　a　cyborg；　a　person　who　can　breathe　underwater　or　run　like　the　wind。〃
　〃Fidel　the　flying　squirrel；　maybe？〃
　Big　Joey　smiled。
　〃You　can't　make　a　flank　steak　back　into　a　cow；　Big　Joey。　The　thermally　challenged　will　remain　so。〃
　The　doorbell　chimed。　Big　Joey　G。　stood；　excused　himself。　〃That　would　be　our　delivery：　Lilia　Sands　and　her　faux　Fidel。〃
　Britt　said；　〃This　is　getting　confusing。〃
　On　the　patio；　Hector　explained　to　Fay　how　it　was；　but　how　could　a　woman　ever　understand？　〃Yes；　I　killed　your　grandmother。　Yes；　I　killed　Phil。　What　were　we　supposed　to　do　when　he　let　you　escape　like　he　did？　You　think　I　had　a　choice？　Besides；　he　was　a　nudge　and　you　know　it。〃
　Pay　wiped　her　tears　on　her　shoulder。　〃Scum！〃　She　knew　she'd　destroy　Hector　if　she　could　chew　her　way　through　these　cuffs　and　the　ropes。
　〃I　understand　you're　upset；　but　don't　you　see　that　the　crime　itself　is　a　relief；　you　know；　a　release。　It's　a　regeneration。〃　Hector　stood　and　stretched。　He　kissed　his　scorpion　tattoo；　flicked　his　tongue　at　Fay。　He　thought；　Yes；　this　woman　will　understand。　〃Before　I　killed；　I　was　far　more　horrible　than　I　am　now；　because　I　was　pregnant　with　evil；　with　the　idea　of　murder。　And　now　the　evil　is　done；　gone；　vanished。　The　idea　of　violence；　the　threat　of　violence；　is　always　more　frightening　than　the　act　of　violence。　Don't　you　think？〃　Fay　heard　a　chime；　a　tune　that　sounded　like　〃Lara's　Theme〃　from　Dr。　Zhivago。
　〃Our　guests　have　arrived；〃　Hector　said。　〃And　now　we're　all　going　for　a　long　boat　ride。〃
　
　At　the　Odyssey　Motel：　Fidel　Castro　sat　on　his　balcony　smoking　his　Don　Miguel　de　la　Flor　cigar；　watching　the　topless　bathers　on　the　beach。　Oxen　in　the　sun；　he　thought。　Fidel　winced；　lifted　his　weight　off　the　chair　as　a　shock　of　pain　shot　through　his　groin。　What　more；　he　wondered；　can　this　hulk　suffer？　He'd　done　the　surgery；　the　radiation；　had　the　orchiectomy。　Too　late。　The　cancer　had　spread　to　the　lymph　nodes　and　the　bone　and　to　distant　organs。　Nothing　left　now　but　hormones　and　morphine。　There　he　sat；　anonymous　in　his　morbidity；　hairless　and　shrunken；　listening　to　a　Xavier　Cugat　CD　in　the　heart　of　the　city　that　wanted　his　head　at　any　price。　Drawn　here；　made　reckless；　by　love。
　Fidel　took　the　photo　of　Lilia　Sands　out　of　his　shirt　pocket。　Oh；　there　had　been　others…Miss　This；　Miss　That；　Miss　The　Other。　They　were　all　lovely；　but　like　flowers　without　scent　pared　to　Lilia。　She　was　his　first　socialist。　I　kiss　the　feet　of　you；　senorita；　he　told　her　that　night　in　his　tent　in　the　Sierra　Maestra。　He　closed　his　eyes；　tried　to　summon　Lilia；　his　Penelope。　Yes；　he　thought；　yes；　because　she　never　did　a　thing　like　that　before　as　bite　my　ear…her　breakfast　in　bed…never　a　thing　as　cut　a　lock　of　my　hair。　Lilia；　her　boiled　eyes　and　smutty　photos；　her　samba；　her　wicked　tongue。　I　gave　her　all　the　pleasure　I　could　until　she　said　yes　and　yes。　I　let　her　see　my　everything。　O　Lilia！　O　Cuba！　My　twin　lovers！　Yes；　I　know　the　back　alleys　of　my　heart；　the　dark　corners　of　my　soul；　and　though　I　tried　to　do　you　no　harm；　in　the　trying　I　failed。　Love　without　mitment；　socialism　without　democracy　are　doomed。　Yes；　I　was　seduced　by　revolution；　driven　to　trample　the　worm　who　sold　our　country　to　the　Mafia　and　the　corporations；　to　trample　him　and　drag　his　carcass　ten　times　around　the　gates　of　Havana。　A　new　order；　I　thought。　A　New　Jerusalem。　But　politics　is　just　who　shoves　whom；　who　doles　out　the　pineapples　and　soup　to　whom；　who　pockets　whose　profits。　Politics　is　a　marketing　strategy；　a　tool　of　business。　It　can　never　make　anyone　happy。　For　that　we　need　virtue　and　knowledge；　not　laws。
　And　so　I　get　to　live　my　simple　life　at　last；　here　in　the　land　of　the　lotus…eaters；　where　our　people；　some　of　them；　have　lost　the　hope　of　home。　Others　are　worms　who　would　devour　our　flesh。　The　aristocrats　who　fled；　the　professional　class。　I　wouldn't　give　a　snap　of　my　fingers　for　all　their　learning；　their　fortunes；　their　self…righteousness。　Let　them　try　to　create　something；　like　an　independent　nation；　like　a　poem。　Yes；　when　at　last　this　Cuban…head…as…Trojan…horse　business　sorts　itself　out；　the　exiles　will　be　ing　home。　To　those　who　return；　wele；　but　remember；　no　one　will　own　us…the　Cuban　Cubans；　we　who　have　lived　on　our　wandering　rock　for　the　last　thirty…seven　years。　You　see；　we　know　how　you　think：　eleven　million　Cubans…Demon　Nation；　one　billion　Chinese…Most　Favored　Nation。　We　understand　the　great　fear　in　your　adopted　country；　the　USA：　fear　of　the　poor！　Power　is　based　on　weakness　of　the　masses。　Those　who　e　home　must　serve　the　people；　not　judge　them；　mand　them；　prod　them。　Cubans；　yes。　Juan　Carlos　Reyes；　no；　no　gusanos；　no　problem。
　Fidel　thought　again　of　Lilia；　her　legs　and　her　lips。　He　remembered　the　moon　setting　over　the　Gulf　of　Man…zanillo；　his　rade　Che；　and　his　heart　was　going　like　mad。　Yes；　Lilia；　he　said；　senorita；　yes；　I　will；　yes　and　yes。
　
　12。　THE　ODYSSEY…Elmore　Leonard
　Joe　Serano　caught　the　Odyssey　night　clerk　as　he　was　going　off：　prissy　guy；　had　his　lunch　box　under　his　arm。
　〃I　saw　it　this　morning　on　TV；〃　Joe　said。　〃So　there　was　a　lot　of　excitement；　huh？　I　thought　the　cops'd　still　be　here；　at　least　the　crime　scene　guys。　I　guess　they've　all　cleared　out。　You　hear　the　shots？　You　must've。〃
　〃I　was　in　the　office；〃　the　night　guy　said。
　Joe　wondered　how　this　twink　knew　he　was　in　the　office　at　the　exact　time　the　shots　were　fired。　What'd　he　think；　it　was　soundproof　in　there？　But　the　cops　no　doubt　had　asked　him　that；　so　Joe　let　it　pass　and　said；　〃It　was　the　two　guys　in　one…oh…five；　wasn't　it？〃
　〃I　think　so。〃
　〃You're　not　sure？〃
　The　night　guy　rolled　his　eyes　and　then　pretended　to　yawn。　He　did　things　like　that；　had　different　poses。
　〃Fairly　respectable…looking　guys；〃　Joe　said；　〃but　no　luggage。　What're　they　doing；　shacking　up？　Maybe；　maybe　not。　But　I　remember　thinking　at　the　time；　they're　up　to　something。　The　TV　news　didn't　mention　their　names；　so　there　must　not've　been　any　ID　on　the　bodies　and　the　cops　didn't　think　the　names　they　used　to　register　were　really　theirs。　Am　I　right？〃
　The　night　guy　said；　〃I　wouldn't　know；〃　acting　bored。
　〃Soon　as　I　saw　those　guys　yesterday…they　checked　in　as　I　was　getting　ready　to　go　off…I　said　to　Mel；　'Let　me　see　the　registration　cards；　see　what　names　they　gave。'　He　wouldn't　show　me。　He　goes；　'Registering　guests　is　not　a　security　matter；　if　you　don't　mind。'　〃　Mel；　the　day　guy；　sounding　a　lot　like　Kenneth；　the　night　guy。
　〃I　didn't　have　time　to　hang　around；　keep　an　eye　on　them；〃　Joe　went　on。　〃I　had　to　go　to　another　job；　a　function　at　the　Biltmore。　They　put　on　extra　security　for　this　bunch　of　Cuban　hotshots　meeting　there。　I　mean　Cuban　Cubans；　said　to　be　Castro　sympathizers；　and　there　was　a　rumor　Fidel　himself　was　gonna　show　up。　You　believe　it？　I　wore　a　suit　instead　of　this　Mickey　Mouse　uniform；　brown　and　friggin'　orange；　I　get　home　I　can't　wait　to　take　it　off。　Those　functions；　you　stand　like　this　holding　your　hands　in　front　of　you；　like　you're　protecting　yourself　from　getting　a　hernia；　and　you　keep　your　eyes　moving。　So〃…he　gestured　toward　the　entrance…〃I　saw　the　truck　out　there；　the　tan　van；　no　writing　on　the　sides？　That's　the　cleanup　pany；　right？〃
　〃I　wouldn't　know；〃　the　night　guy　said。
　Little　curly…haired　twink；　walked　with　his　knees　together。
　〃Well；　listen；　I'll　let　you　go；〃　Joe　said；　〃and　thanks　for　sharing　that　information　with　me；　it　was　interesting。　I'll　go　check　on　the　cleanup　people；　see　how　they're　doing。　What　room　was　that　again；　one…oh…five？〃
　It　sure　was。
　There　was　furniture　in　the　hall　by　the　open　door　and　a　nasty　smell　in　the　air。　As　Joe　approached；　a　big　black　guy　in　a　white　plastic　jumpsuit；　latex　gloves；　what　looked　like　a　shower　cap；　goggles　up　on　his　head；　blue　plastic　covering　his　shoes；　came　out　carrying　a　floor　lamp。
　Joe　said；　〃Joe　Sereno；　security　officer。〃
　〃I'm　Franklin；　with　Baneful　Clean…Up。〃
　〃Baneful？〃
　〃The　boss　named　it。　He　tried　Pernicious　Clean…Up　in　the　Yellow　Pages？　Didn't　get　any　calls。〃
　Joe　said；　〃Hmmmm；　how　about　Death　Squad？〃
　〃That's　catchy；〃　Franklin　said；　〃but　people　might　get　the　wrong　idea。　You　know；　that　we　doing　the　job　'stead　of　cleaning　up　after。　This　is　my　partner；　Marlis；〃　Franklin　said；　and　Joe　turned　to　see　a　cute　young　black　woman　approaching　in　her　plastic　coveralls；