Stormy Weather

"Nope."

"A280Z?"

"Try an Acclaim."

He winced. "I had you figured for a sports import."

"Well, I'm flattered," Edie said, with a soft laugh.

There was a brutal truth at the heart of Max's silly game. Eligible young Ke

Later, after Max had found the Turnpike extension and made his way downtown, he said: "Where can I drop you?"

"Let me think about that," said Edie Marsh.

"Captain, have you got a mirror?"

"No."

"Good," Bo

She felt a raw knot rising on her forehead, another on a cheekbone. Augustine assured her that she didn't look as bad as she thought. "But you could use some ice."

"Later." She was watching Skink. "I know somebody who ought to be in a hospital."

"No," said the governor.

"Augustine says your collarbone is broken."

"I believe he's right."

"And several ribs."

"I shall call you Nurse Nightingale."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"I know a doctor in Tavernier."

"And how do you plan to get there?"

"Walking upright," Skink replied. "One of the few commendable traits of our species."

Bo

"The whole world's in pain, girl."

She looked imploringly to Augustine. "Talk to him, please."

"He's a grown man, Bo

He was cleaning her face with his shirt, which he'd wadded up and soaked in the creek, Skink perched on a nearby log, his arms crossed tightly. Moments earlier they'd watched him gobble a dozen Anacins from a plastic bottle he located under the camp tarpaulin. Bo

No aspirins were offered to Snapper, who was bound with a corroded tow-truck chain to the buttonwood tree. He was caked with soggy leaves, mulch and dried blood. His cheap suit was filthy and torn. During the struggle, Augustine had made him dig a short trench with his mandible, so his maw was full of stones and loose sojl, like a planter. In addition, he was missing an earlobe, which Augustine had shot off at point-blank range. It was inconceivable to Snapper that such a chickenshit wound could be so excruciating.

Skink said to Augustine: "I thought sure you were going to kill him."

"It was tempting."

"My way's better."

"After what he did to Jim's girlfriend?"

"Yes. Even after that." The governor bowed his head. He was hurting.

Augustine was drained. The adrenaline had emptied out in a clammy torrent. He no longer entertained the idea of murdering Snapper, and doubted if he was even capable of it. An hour ago, yes. Not now. It was probably a good time to leave.

Bo

"I don't know. The way he hurt you—"

"Hey, I asked for it."

"But you wouldn't be out here if it weren't for me."

Playfully she jabbed a finger in his side. "What makes you so sure? Maybe I'm here because of him."

Skink gri

"Would it be bad ma

His chin came off his chest. "Oh. That." Grimacing, he rose from the log. "Lester, you awake? Yo, Lester!"

"Ghhhnungggh."

The governor used his feet to push the Frenchman's suitcase across the clearing to the buttonwood tree, where he kicked the latches open. Snapper regarded the bundled cash with a mixture of undisguised longing and suspicion. He wondered what sick stunt the fucker was cooking up now.

Only the bills on top were wet. Skink swept them aside with his hands. Bo

The governor said, "You guys want any of this?" They shook their heads.

"Me, neither," he muttered. "Just more shit to lug around." He addressed Snapper: "Chief, I'm sure there was a time in your sorry-ass life when ninety-four grand would've come in handy. Believe me when I tell you those days are over."

Skink took a matchbook from his pocket. He asked Bo

The money gave off a rich, sweet scent as it burned.

Later he unlocked the truck chain holding Snapper to the tree. Plaintively Snapper pointed at the red brace fastened in his mouth. Skink shook his head.

"Here's the deal, Lester. Don't be here when I get back. Do not fuck with my camp, do not fuck with my books. It's about to rain like hell, so lie back and drink as much as you can. You'll need it."

Snapper didn't respond. Augustine stepped up. He took out the .38 Special and said, "Try to follow us out, I'll blow your head off."

Bo

Snapper had no desire to follow; he was glad the crazy fuckers were gone. A gust churned the cinders at his feet, blew a flurry into his lap. He ran his fingers through the ashes, brought a handful to his nose. It didn't even smell like money anymore.

Later he awoke to the hard rustle of leaves. The rain came driving down. Snapper took the man's advice. He filled up on it.

At daybreak he would start his march.

They broke a fresh trail through the hardwoods. Bo

She hooked her fingers in Augustine's belt as they swam. The governor hoisted the torch, his boots and the backpack over his head, to keep them dry. Augustine was astounded that the man could swim so well with a fractured collarbone. The crossing took less than fifteen minutes, though it seemed an eternity to Bo