sk.theplant- 第39节

　　
　　10：50　A。　M。
　　
　　Bill　Gelb　is　so　excited　about　his　planned　excursion　to　Paramus　that　he　hardly　slept　at　all　last　night；　and　still　he　feels　energized　this　Saturday　morning；　totally　jazzed。　He　couldn't　stay　in　the　goddam　apartment；　just　couldn't。　The　question　was；　where　to　go？　Ordinarily　he'd　think　movie；　Bill　loves　the　movies；　but　he　couldn't　sit　still　in　one　today。　And　then；　in　the　shower；　the　answer　came。
　　On　a　Saturday　morning　in　Central　Park；　especially　on　a　pretty　spring　morning　like　this　one；　there'll　be　a　veritable　Olympic　games　going　on；　everything　from　skateboarding　and　pick…up　softball　to　chess　and　checkers。
　　There　will　also　be　a　crap　game　going　on　at　the　edge　of　the　Sheep　Meadow；　of　this　Bill　is　almost　sure。　It　may　have　been　closed　down；　but　he　can't　imagine　why　the　cops　would　bust　such　an　innocuous　game：　low　stakes；　young　white　guys　pretending　to　be　cool　dudes　rolling　the　bones。　Seven　e　eleven；　baby　needs　a　new　pair　of　Adidas　sneakers。　A　bottle　or　two　of　cheap　wine　will　make　the　rounds；　allowing　the　players　to　feel　totally　raffish；　not　to　say　decadent；　shooting　craps　and　drinking　Night　Train　at　eleven　o'clock　in　the　morning。
　　Bill　has　played　in　this　game　maybe　half　a　dozen　times　over　the　last　two　years；　always　in　warm　weather。　He　likes　to　gamble；　but　shooting　craps　in　Central　Park　when　the　temperature　is　below　forty？　No　way。　But　today　WINS　radio　says　the　mercury　may　shoot　all　the　way　up　to　an　unseasonable　seventy　degrees；　and　besides。　。　。　what　better　way　to　see　if　the　force　is　still　with　him？
　　Which　is　why…as　Riddley's　train　approaches　Manhattan；　as　Sandra　and　her　niece　continue　their　whirlwind　tour　of　Cony　Island's　early…season　amusements；　as　Carlos　Detweiller　begins　inspecting　〃Poop…Shit〃　Kenton's　files；　and　General　Hecksler　sits　slouched　in　Herb　Porter's　office　chair；　knife　gleaming　in　the　sunlight…we　find　Bill　Gelb　down　on　his　knees　in　a　circle　of　yelling；　laughing　white　guys　who　are　happy　to　fade　his　heat。　Lucky　son　of　a　bitch　got　in　the　game；　bet　two　guys　to　crap　out　（and　won）；　then　took　the　dice　himself。　Since　then　he's　rolled　five　straight　sevens。　Now　he's　promising　them　a　sixth；　and　further　promising　them　it'll　be　sixty…one。　Dude　is　crazy；　so　of　course　they're　happy　to　fade　him。　And　Bill　is　happy；　as　well。　As　happy　as　he's　ever　been　in　his　life；　it　seems　to　him。　He　showed　up　here　on　the　Meadow　with　just　fifteen　dollars　in　his　pocket；　deliberately　leaving　the　rest　of　his　cash　at　home；　he's　already　tripled　that。　And　this；　by　God；　is　just　the　warmup！　Tonight；　in　Paramus；　he　will　sit　down　to　the　main　course。
　　〃God　bless　that　crazy　houseplant；〃　he　murmurs；　and　rolls　the　dice　onto　the　painted　hopscotch　grid　that　serves　as　the　pit。　They　bounce；　they　roll；　they　tumble…
　　…and　the　Saturday　morning　yuppie　crap…artists　groan　in　mingled　disbelief；　despair；　and　amazement。
　　It's　six　and　one。
　　Bill　snatches　up　the　wad　of　currency　lying　on　the　HOME　slot　of　the　hopscotch　grid；　smacks　it；　and　holds　it　up　to　the　bright　blue　sky；　laughing。
　　〃You　want　to　pass　the　dice；　Mr。　Lucky？〃　one　of　the　other　players　asks。
　　〃When　I'm　on　a　roll　like　this？〃　Bill　Gelb　leans　forward　and　snatches　the　dice。　〃No　fuckin　way。〃　The　bones　feel　warm　in　his　hand。　Someone　hands　him　a　bottle　of　Boone's　Farm　and　he　takes　a　hit。　〃No　fuckin　way　am　I　passing；〃　he　repeats。　〃Gents；　I'm　going　to　roll　these　bones　until　the　spots　fall　off。〃
　　
　　11：05　A。　M。
　　
　　The　kadath　has　infiltrated　Kenton's　office　right　through　the　cracks　at　the　edges　of　the　door；　growing　exuberantly　up　the　walls；　but　Carlos　barely　notices。　The　ivy　is　nothing　to　him；　one　way　or　the　other。　Not　now。　It　might　have　been　fun　to　sit　back　and　watch　it　work　if　not　for　Tina　Barfield；　but　the　bitch　stole　his　owl's　beak　and　time　has　grown　short。　Let　Zenith　take　care　of　the　rest　if　it　wants　to；　Kenton　is　his。
　　〃You　mocker；〃　he　says　again。　〃You　thief。〃
　　As　in　Herb's　office；　there　are　pictures　on　the　walls　of　Kenton　with　various　authors。　Carlos　cares　nothing　for　the　authors　（they　look　like　wankers　to　him；　too）；　but　he　looks　fixedly　at　the　repetitions　of　Kenton　himself；　memorizing　the　lean　face　with　its　shock　of　too…long　black　hair。　What　does　he　think　he　is？　Carlos　asks　himself　indignantly。　A　damned　old　rock　star？　A　Beatle？　A　Rolling　Stone？　The　name　of　a　rock　and　roll　group　Kenton　could　belong　to　occurs　to　him：　Johnny　and　the　Poop…Shits。
　　As　always；　Carlos　is　startled　by　his　own　wit。　He　is　serious　so　much　of　the　time　that　he's　always　shocked　at　what　a　good　sense　of　humor　he　has。　Now　he　barks　laughter。
　　Still　chuckling；　he　tries　Kenton's　desk　drawers；　but；　unlike　Herb's；　they　are　locked。　There　is　an　IN/OUT　box　on　top　of　the　desk；　but；　also　unlike　Herb's；　it　is　almost　pletely　empty。　The　one　sheet　of　paper　has　several　lines　jotted　on　it　that　Carlos　doesn't　understand　in　the　slightest：
　　
　　Leper　hockey　game：　face　off　in　the　corner
　　7：　6　to　carry　the　coffin；　1　to　carry　the　boombox
　　Never　mind　the　jam　on　your　mouth；　what's　that　peanut　butter　doing　on　your　forehead？
　　〃Fuck　the　mailman；　give　him　a　dollar　and　a　sweet　roll。〃
　　Orange　manhole　cover　in　France=Howard　Johnson's。
　　
　　What　in　the　name　of　Demeter　is　all　that　crap　about？　Carlos　doesn't　know　and　decides　he　doesn't　care；　either。
　　He　goes　to　Kenton's　file　cabinets；　expecting　them　to　be　locked　as　well；　but　he　has　a　long　weekend　ahead　of　him；　and　if　he　gets　bored；　he　can　open　both　the　desk　and　the　files。　He　has　plenty　of　tools　in　the　Sakrifice　Case　that　will　do　the　job。　But　the　drawers　of　the　file　cabinets　turn　out　to　be　unlocked…go　figure。
　　Carlos　begins　searching　the　files　with　a　high　degree　of　interest　that　quickly　fades。　Poop…Shit's　files　are　alphabetized；　but　after　CURRAN；　JAMES　（author　of　four　paperback　originals　in　1978　and　'79；　with　titles　like　Love's　Strange　Delight　and　Love's　Strange　Obsession）；　es　DORCHESTER；　ELLEN　（six　brief　manuscript　reports；　each　signed　by　Kenton　and　each　attached　to　a　rejection　letter）。　There's　no　file　marked　DETWEILLER；　CARLOS。
　　
　　Such　a　file　by　then　existed；　of　course；　and　it　contained　material　that　might　well　have　caused　Detweiller　to　explode　with　rage；　but　it　was　in　the　publishing　house　safe；　behind　a　picture　in　Roger　Wade's　office。　Neither　Hecksler　nor　Detweiller　so　much　as　entered　that　office。　That　file　also　contained　material　concerning　the　General　and　the　pany's　new　mascot。
　　
　　The　one　item　of　interest　Carlos　discovers　is　in　the　bottom　drawer；　lying　behind　the　few　hanging　files　marked　W…Z。　It's　a　framed　photograph　which　undoubtedly　graced　Kenton's　desk　until　recently。　In　it；　Kenton　and　a　pretty　young　Oriental　woman　are　standing　on　the　rink　at　Rockefeller　Plaza　with　their　arms　around　each　other；　laughing　into　the　camera。
　　A　smile　of　surpassing　nastiness　dawns　on　Carlos's　face。　The　woman　is　in　California；　but　for　a　genuine　Psykik　Savant；　a　few　thousand　miles　presents　absolutely　no　problem。　Miss　Ruth　Tanaka　is　already　discovering　that　she　has　backed　the　wrong　horse　in　the　Romance　Sweepstakes。　Carlos　knows　she'll　be　back　in　New　York　before　long；　and　thinks　that　she　may　stop　by　Zenith　House　shortly　after　she　arrives。　Kenton　will　be　dead　by　then；　but　she　will　have　questions；　won't　she？　Yes。　The　ladies　always　have　questions。
　　And　when　she　es。　。　。
　　〃Innocent　blood；〃　Carlos　murmurs。　He　tosses　the　framed　photo　back　into　the　drawer　and　the　glass　front　shatters。　In　the　quiet　office；　the　sound　is　satisfyingly　loud。　Across　the　hall；　General　Hecksler　jumps　slightly　in　Herb's　chair；　almost　pricking　himself　with　his　own　knife。
　　Carlos　kicks　the　file…drawer　shut；　goes　across　to　Kenton's　desk；　and　sits　down　in　Kenton's　chair。　He　feels　like　Goldilocks；　only　with　a　pretty　decent　stiffy。　He　sits　there　for　a　little　while；　drumming　the　fingers　of　one　hand　on　the　Sakrifice　Case　and　idly　boinking　his　hardon　with　the　fingers　of　the　other。　Later；　he　thinks；　he'll　probably　masturbate…it　is　something　he　does　often　and　well。　Not　knowing；　of　course；　that　his　days　of　self…abuse　are　now　gone。
　　In　the　office　across　the　corridor；　Iron…Guts　has　taken　up　a　position　against　the　wall　to　the　left　of　Herb　Porter's　door。　He　can　see　a　reflection　of　the　office　across　the　way　in　Herb's　window…faint；　but　good　enough。　When