ch.doublewhammy-第19章

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　there　were　good　reasons　not　to。　The　second　man　was　dead；　the　trooper　was　sure。　Maybe　the　details　weren't　all　that　important。
　As　he　pulled　up　to　the　terminal；　Jim　Tile　said；　〃This　Decker；　you　must　think　he's　all　right。〃
　〃Seems　solid　enough。〃
　〃Just　remember　he's　got　other　priorities。　He's　not　working　for　you。〃
　〃Maybe　he　is；〃　Skink　said；　〃and　he　just　doesn't　know　it。〃
　〃Yet；〃　said　Jim　Tile。
　
　R。　J。　Decker　was　pacing　in　front　of　the　Eastern　Airlines　counter　when　Skink　lumbered　in；　looking　like　a　biker　who'd　misplaced　all　his　amphetamines。　Still；　Decker　had　to　admit；　the　overall　appearance　was　a　slight　improvement。
　〃I　took　a　bath；〃　Skink　said；　〃aren't　you　proud？〃
　〃Thank　you。〃
　〃I　hate　airplanes。〃
　〃e　on；　they're　boarding　our　flight。〃
　At　the　gate　Skink　got　into　an　argument　with　a　flight　attendant　who　wouldn't　let　him　carry　on　his　scuba　gear。
　〃It　won't　fit　under　the　seat；〃　she　explained。
　〃I'll　show　you　where　it　fits；〃　Skink　growled。
　〃Just　check　the　tanks　into　baggage；〃　Decker　said。
　〃They'll　bust　'em；〃　Skink　protested。
　〃Then　I'll　buy　you　new　ones。〃
　〃Our　handlers　are　very　careful；〃　the　flight　attendant　said　brightly。
　〃Troglodytes！〃　said　Skink；　and　stalked　onto　the　airplane。
　〃Your　friend's　a　little　grumpy　this　morning；〃　the　flight　attendant　said　as　she　took　Decker's　ticket　coupon。
　〃He's　just　a　nervous　flier。　He'll　settle　down。〃
　〃I　hope　so。　You　might　mention　to　him　that　we　have　an　armed　sky　marshal　on　board。〃
　Oh；　absolutely；　Decker　thought；　what　a　fine　idea。
　He　found　Skink　hunkered　down　in　the　last　row　of　the　tail　section。
　〃I　traded　seats　with　a　couple　Catholic　missionaries；〃　Skink　explained。　〃This　is　the　safest　place　to　be　if　the　plane　goes　down；　the　last　row。　Where's　your　camera　gear？〃
　〃In　a　trunk；　don't　worry。〃
　〃You　remembered　the　tripod？〃
　〃Yes；　captain。〃
　Skink　was　a　jangled　mess。　He　fumed　and　squirmed　and　fidgeted。　He　scratched　nervously　at　the　hair　on　his　cheeks。　Decker　had　never　seen　him　this　way。
　〃You　don't　like　to　fly？〃
　〃Spent　half　my　life　on　planes。　Planes　don't　scare　me。　I　hate　the　goddamn　things　but　they　don't　scare　me；　if　that's　what　you're　getting　at。〃　He　dug　into　a　pocket　of　his　black　denim　jacket　and　brought　out　the　black　sunglasses　and　the　flowered　shower　cap。
　〃Please　don't　put　those　on；〃　Decker　said。　〃Not　right　now。〃
　〃You　with　the　fucking　FAA　or　what？〃　Skink　pulled　the　rainhat　tight　over　his　hair。　〃Who　cares；〃　he　said。
　The　man　looks　miserable；　Decker　thought；　a　true　sociopath。　It　wasn't　the　airplane；　either；　it　was　the　people；　Skink　plainly　couldn't　stand　to　be　out　in　public。　Under　the　rainhat　he　seemed　to　calm。　Behind　the　charcoal　lenses　of　the　sunglasses；　Decker　sensed；　Skink's　green　eyes　had　closed。
　〃Pay　no　attention　to　me；〃　he　said　quietly。
　〃Take　a　nap；〃　Decker　said。　The　jet　engines；　which　seemed　anchored　directly　over　their　heads；　drowned　Decker's　words；　the　plane　started　rolling　down　the　runway。　Skink　said　nothing　until　they　were　airborne。
　Then　he　shifted　in　his　seat　and　said：　〃Bad　news；　Miami。　The　Rundell　brothers　are　on　this　bird。　Picking　their　noses　up　in　first　class；　if　you　can　believe　it。　Makes　me　sick。〃
　Decker　hadn't　noticed　them　when　he　boarded；　he'd　been　preoccupied　with　Skink。　〃Did　they　see　you？〃
　〃What　do　you　think？〃　Skink　replied　mordantly。
　〃So　much　for　stealth。〃
　Skink　chuckled。　〃Culver　damn　near　wet　his　pants。〃
　〃He'll　be　on　the　phone　to　Lockhart　the　minute　we're　on　the　ground。〃
　〃Can't　have　that；〃　Skink　said。　He　stared　out　the　window　until　the　flight　attendants　started　moving　down　the　aisle　with　the　lunch　trays。　Skink　lowered　the　tabletop　at　his　seat　and　braced　his　logger's　arms　on　it。
　〃Ozzie　and　Culver；　they　don't　know　your　face。〃
　〃I　don't　think　so；〃　Decker　said；　〃but　I　can't　be　sure。　I　believe　I　stopped　in　their　bait　shop　once。〃
　〃Damn。〃　Skink　smoothed　the　plastic　cap　against　his　skull　and　fingered　his　long　braid　of　hair。　Decker　could　tell　he　was　cooking　up　a　scheme。　〃Where　does　this　plane　go　from　New　Orleans？〃　Skink　asked。
　〃Tulsa。〃
　〃Good；〃　Skink　said。　〃That's　where　you're　going。　As　soon　as　you　get　there；　hop　another　flight　and　e　back。　You　got　plenty　of　cash？〃
　〃Yeah；　and　plastic。〃
　〃It's　cash　you'll　need；〃　Skink　said。　〃Most　bail　bondsmen　don't　take　MasterCard。〃
　Whatever　the　plan；　Decker　didn't　like　it　already。　〃Is　it　you　or　me　who's　going　to　need　bail？〃
　〃Aw；　relax；〃　Skink　said。
　But　now　it　was　impossible。
　When　the　stewardess　brought　the　food；　Skink　glowered　from　under　his　cap　and　snapped：　〃What　in　the　name　of　Christ　is　this　slop？〃
　〃Beef　Wellington；　muffins；　a　fresh　garden　salad；　and　carrot　cake。〃
　〃How　about　some　goddamn　opossum？〃　Skink　said。
　The　flight　attendant's　blue　buttonlike　eyes　flickered　slightly。　〃I　don't　think　so；　sir；　but　we　may　have　a　chicken　Kiev　left　over　from　the　Atlanta　flight。〃
　〃How　about　squirrel？〃　Skink　said。　〃Squirrel　Kiev　would　be　lovely。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　but　that's　not　on　the　menu；〃　the　stewardess　said；　the　lilt　and　patience　draining　from　her　voice。　〃Would　you　care　for　a　beverage　this　morning？〃
　〃Just　possum　hormones；〃　Skink　said；　〃and　if　I　don't　get　some；　I'm　going　to　tear　this　goddamn　airplane　apart。〃　Then　he　casually　ripped　the　tray　table　off　its　hinges　and　handed　it　to　the　flight　attendant；　who　backpedaled　in　terror　up　the　aisle。
　She　was　calling　for　her　supervisor　when　Skink　rose　from　his　seat　and　shouted；　〃You　promised　opossum！　I　called　ahead　and　you　promised　to　reserve　a　possum　lunch。　Kosher；　too！〃
　R。　J。　Decker　felt　paralyzed。　Skink's　plan　was　now　evident；　and　irreversible。
　〃Fresh　opossum…or　we　all　die　together！〃　he　proclaimed。　By　now　pandemonium　was　sweeping　the　tail　section；　women　and　children　scurried　toward　the　front　of　the　aircraft　while　the　male　passengers　conferred　about　the　best　course　of　action。　Skink's　size；　apparel；　and　maniacal　demeanor　did　not　invite　heroic　confrontation　at　thirty　thousand　feet。
　To　Decker　it　seemed　like　every　passenger　in　the　airplane　had　turned　around　to　stare　at　the　lunatic　in　the　flowered　shower　cap。
　The　aisle　cleared　as　a　man　with　a　badge　on　his　shirt　came　out　of　first　class　and　hurried　toward　the　trouble。
　〃Remember；　you　don't　know　me！〃　Skink　whispered　to　Decker。
　〃No　kidding。〃
　The　sky　marshal；　a　short　stocky　man　with　a　bushy　mustache；　asked　R。　J。　Decker　if　he　would　mind　moving　up　a　few　rows　for　the　remainder　of　the　flight。
　〃Gladly；〃　Decker　said。
　The　sky　marshal　carried　no　gun；　just　a　short　billy　club　and　a　pair　of　handcuffs。　He　sat　down　in　Decker's　seat。
　〃Are　you　the　man　with　the　opossum？〃　Skink　asked。
　〃Behave　yourself；〃　the　sky　marshal　said　sternly；　〃and　I　won't　have　to　use　these。〃　He　jangled　the　handcuffs　ominously。
　〃Please；〃　Skink　said；　〃I'm　a　heavily　medicated　man。〃
　The　sky　marshal　nodded。　〃Everything　is　fine　now。　We're　only　a　half…hour　from　New　Orleans。〃
　Soon　the　plane　was　calm　again　and　lunch　service　was　resumed。　When　Decker　turned　around　he　saw　Skink　and　the　sky　marshal　chatting　amiably。
　After　landing　in　New　Orleans；　the　pilot　asked　all　passengers　to　remain　seated　for　a　few　minutes。　As　soon　as　the　cabin　door　opened；　three　city　policemen　and　two　federal　agents　in　dark　suits　boarded　the　plane　and　led　Skink　away　in　handcuffs　and　leg　irons。　On　the　way　out　he　made　a　point　of　kissing　one　of　the　flight　attendants　on　the　earlobe　and　warning　the　pilot　to　watch　out　for　windshear　over　Little　Rock。
　The　Rundell　brothers　watched　in　fascination。
　〃Where　they　taking　him？〃　Ozzie　wondered。
　〃The　nuthouse；　I　hope；〃　said　Culver。　〃Let's　get　going。〃
　R。　J。　Decker　stayed　on　the　plane　to　Tulsa。　Except　for　one　drunken　tourist　wearing　a　Disney　World　tank　top　and　Pluto　ears；　it　was　a　peaceful　flight。
　
　On　the　night　of　January　15；　Dickie　Lockhart　got　dog…sucking　drunk　on　Bourbon　Street　and　was　booted　out　of　a　topless　joint　for　tossing　rubber　nightcrawlers　on　the　dancers。　The　worms　were　a　freebie　from　a　national　tackle　pany　whose　sales　reps　had　e　to　town　for　the　big　bass　tournament。　The　sales　reps　had　given　Dickie　Lockhart　four　bags　of　assorted　lures　and　hooks；　plus　a　thousand　dollars　cash　as　incentive　to　win　the　tournament　using　the　pany's　equipment。　Dickie　blew　the　entire　grand　in　the　French　Quarter；　buying　rock　cocaine　and　rainbow…colored　cocktails　for　exquisitely　painted　women；　most　of　whom　turned　out　to　be　flaming　he…she's　out　trolling　for　cock。　In　disgust　Dickie　Lockhart　had　retreated　to　the　strip　joints；　where　at　least　the　boobs　were　genuine。　The　trouble　happened　when　he　ran　out　of　five…dollar　bills　for　tips；　finding　only　the　slippery　rubber　nightcrawlers　in　his　pockets；　he　began　flicking　them　up　at　the　nude　performers。　In　his　drunken　state　he　was　vastly　entertained　by　the　way　the　gooey　worms　clung　to　the　dancers'　thighs　and　nipples；　and　would　occasionally　tangle　in　their　pubic　hair。　The　nightcrawlers　looked　（and　felt）　so　authentic　that　the　strippers　began　shrieking　and　clawing　at　their　own　flesh；　one　frail　acrobat　even　collapsed　and　rolled　about　the　stage　as　if　she　were　on　fire。　Dickie　thought　the　whole　scene　was　hysterical；　obviously　these　girls　had　never　been　fishing。　He　was　mildly　baffled　when　the　bouncers　heaved　him　out　of　the　joint　（hadn't　they　seen　him　on　TV？）；　but　took　some　satisfaction　when　other　patrons　booed　the　rough　manner　in　which　he　was　expelled。
　Afterward　he　had　a　few　more　drinks　and　went　looking　for　his　boss；　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb。　Drunk　was　the　only　condition　in　which　Dickie　Lockhart　could　have　made　this　decision；　as　a　rule　one　did　not　pop　in　on　Reverend　Weeb　unless　one　was　invited。
　Dickie　lurched　up　to　the　top…floor　suite　of　the　swank　hotel　on　Chartres　Street　and　pounded　on　the　door。　It　was　almost　midnight。
　〃Who　is　it？〃　a　female　voice　asked。
　〃DEA！〃　said　Dickie　Lockhart。　〃Open　the　fuck　up！〃
　The　door　opened　and　a　beautiful　long…haired　woman　stood　there；　at　least　she　seemed　beautiful　to　Dickie　Lockhart。　An　apparition；　really。　She　was　wearing　canvas　hip　waders　and　nothing　else。　Her　lovely　breasts　poked　out　in　a　friendly　way　from　under　the　suspenders。　For　a　moment　Dickie　almost　forgot　he　was　supposed　to　be　with　the　DEA。
　〃I　got　a　warrant　for　Charles　Weeb；〃　he　snarled。
　〃What's　with　the　fishing　pole？〃　the　naked　wader　asked。
　Dickie　Lockhart　had　been　carrying　a　nine…foot　boron　fly　rod　all　night　long。　He　couldn't　remember　why。　Somebody　in　a　bar　had　given　it　to　him；　another　damn　salesman；　probably。
　〃It's　not　a　fishing　rod；　so　shut　up！〃
　〃Yes；　it　is；〃　said　the　woman。
　〃It's　a　heroin　probe；〃　Dickie　Lockhart　said。　〃Now　stand　back。〃　He　brushed　past　her　and　marched　into　the　living　room　of　the　suite；　but　the　reverend　was　not　there。　Dickie　headed　for　the　master　bedroom；　the　woman　clomping　after　him　in　the　heavy　waders。
　〃Have　you　got　a　warrant？〃　she　asked。
　Dickie　found　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　lying　on　his　back　in　bed。　Another　young　woman　was　on　top　of　him；　bouncing　happily。　This　one　was　wearing　a　Saints　jersey；　number　12。
　From　behind　Dickie　Lockhart　the　bare…breasted　wader　announced：　〃Charlie；　there's　a　man　here　to　arrest　you。〃
　Weeb　looked　up　irritably；　fastened　his　angry　eyes　on　Dickie　Lockhart；　and　said：　〃Be　gone；　sinner！〃
　It　occurred　to　Dickie　that　maybe　it　wasn't　such　a　hot　idea　to　stop　by　unannounced。　He　went　back　to　the　living　room；　turned　on　the　television；　and　slumped　on　the　couch。　The　woman　i