dk.solesurvivor-第47节

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ded　Joe　over　to　another　agent　as　the　storyteller　had　done。
　　Given　their　formidable　resources；　they　would　have　a　substantial　contingent　of　operatives　at　the　airport。　He　could　never　escape　them　here。
　　He　had　exactly　an　hour　until　he　had　to　meet　Demi；　who　he　hoped　would　take　him　to　Rose　Tucker。　If　he　didn't　make　the　rendezvous　in　time；　he　had　no　way　to　re…establish　contact　with　the　woman。
　　His　wristwatch　seemed　to　be　ticking　as　loudly　as　a　grandfather　clock。
　　
　　Tortured　faces　melted　into　the　mutant　forms　of　strange　animals　and　nightmare　landscapes　in　the　Rorschach　stains　on　the　walls　of　the　vast；　drab　concrete　parking　structure。　Engine　noise　from　cars　in　other　aisles；　on　other　levels；　echoed　like　a　Grendel　grumble　through　these　manmade　caverns。
　　His　Honda　was　where　he'd　left　it。
　　Although　most　of　the　vehicles　in　the　garage　were　cars；　three　vans…none　white…an　old　Volkswagen　minibus　with　curtained　windows；　and　a　pickup　truck　with　a　camper　shell　were　parked　near　enough　to　him　to　serve　as　surveillance　posts。　He　didn't　give　any　of　them　a　second　look。
　　He　opened　the　car　trunk　and；　using　his　body　to　block　the　view　of　any　onlooker；　he　quickly　checked　the　spare…tyre　well　for　the　money。　He　had　taken　two　thousand　to　Colorado；　but　he　had　left　the　bulk　of　his　funds　in　the　Honda。　He　was　afraid　the　bank's　manila　envelope　with　the　brass　clasp　would　be　gone；　but　it　was　where　he'd　left　it。
　　He　slipped　the　envelope　under　the　waistband　of　his　jeans。　He　considered　taking　the　small　suitcase　as　well；　but　if　he　transferred　it　to　the　front　seat；　the　people　watching　him　would　not　be　suckered　by　the　little　drama　he　had　planned　for　them。
　　In　the　driver's　seat；　he　took　the　envelope　out　of　his　waistband；　opened　it；　and　tucked　the　packets　of　hundred…dollar　bills　in　the　various　pockets　of　his　corduroy　jacket。　He　folded　the　empty　envelope　and　put　it　in　the　console　box。
　　When　he　backed　out　of　the　parking　space　and　drove　away；　none　of　the　suspect　vehicles　followed　him　immediately。　They　didn't　need　to　be　quick。　Hidden　somewhere　on　the　Honda；　another　transponder　was　sending　the　surveillance　team　a　signal　that　made　constant　visual　contact　unnecessary。
　　He　drove　down　three　levels　to　the　exit。　Departing　vehicles　were　lined　up　at　the　cashiers'　booths。
　　As　he　inched　forward；　he　repeatedly　checked　his　rear…view　mirror。　Just　as　he　reached　the　cashier；　he　saw　the　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　pull　into　line　six　cars　behind　him。
　　
　　Driving　away。　from　the　airport；　he　held　his　speed　slightly　below　the　legal　limit　and　made　no　effort　to　beat　traffic　lights　as　they　turned　yellow　ahead　of　him。　He　didn't　want　to　put　too　much　distance　between　himself　and　his　pursuers。
　　Preferring　surface　streets　rather　than　the　freeways；　he　headed　toward　the　west　side　of　the　city。　Block　by　block　through　a　seedy　mercial　district；　he　searched　for　a　setup　that　would　serve　his　purposes。
　　The　summer　day　was　warm　and　clear；　and　the　sunshine　was　diffused　in　matching　parabolic　rainbow　arcs　across　the　dirty　windshield。　The　soapy　washer　spray　and　the　wipers　cleared　the　glass　somewhat　but　not　sufficiently。
　　Squinting　through　the　glare；　Joe　almost　failed　to　give　the　used…car　dealership　due　consideration。　Gem　Fittich　Auto　Sales。　Sunday　was　a　car…shopping　day；　and　the　lot　was　open；　though　perhaps　not　for　long。　Realizing　that　this　was　precisely　what　he　needed；　he　pulled　to　the　right…hand　curb　and　stopped　half　a　block　past　the　place。
　　He　was　in　front　of　a　transmission…repair　shop。　The　business　was　housed　in　a　badly　maintained　stucco　and　corrugated　steel　building　that　appeared　to　have　been　blown　together　by　a　capricious　tornado　using　parts　of　several　other　structures　that　it　had　previously　torn　asunder。　Fortunately；　the　shop　was　closed；　he　didn't　want　any　good…Samaritan　mechanics　ing　to　his　rescue。
　　He　shut　off　the　engine　and　got　out　of　the　Honda。
　　The　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　was　not　yet　within　sight　on　the　street　behind　him。
　　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；　hav