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Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas :: Thompson Hunter S.
Страница: 145 из 255“They probably searched the room. Jesus, we’re finished.”
Suddenly the door swung open. We hesitated, then hurried inside. No sign of trouble. “Bolt everything,” said my attorney. “Use all chains.” He was staring at two Mint Hotel Room keys in his hand. “Where did this one come from?” he said, holding up a key with number 1221 on it.
“That’s Lacerda’s room,” I said.
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s right. I thought we might need it.”
“What for?”
“Let’s go up there and blast him out of bed with the fire he said.
“No,” I said. “We should leave the poor bastard alone, I get the feeling he’s avoiding us for some reason.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he said. “That Portuguese son of bitch is dangerous. He’s watching us like a hawk.” He squinted at me. “Have you made a deal with him?”
“I talked with him on the phone,” I said, “while you were out getting the car washed. He said he was turning in early, so he can get out there to the starting line at dawn.”
My attorney was not listening. He utt.ered an anguished cry and smacked the wall with both hands. “That dirty bastard!” he shouted. “I knew it! He got hold of my woman!”
I laughed. “That little blonde groupie with the film crew? You think he sodomized her?”
“That’s right - laugh about it!” he yelled. “You goddamn honkies are all the same.” By this time he’d
opened a new bottle of tequila and was quaffing it down.
Then he grabbed a grapefruit and sliced it in half with a Gerber Mini - Magnum - a stainless - steel hunting knife with a blade like a fresh - honed straight razor.
“Where’d you get that knife?” I asked.
“Room service sent it up,” he said. “I wanted something to cut the limes.
“What limes?”
“They didn’t have any,” he said. “They don’t grow out here in the desert.” He sliced the grapefruit into quarters then into eighths… then sixteenths… then he began aimlessly at the residue. “That dirty toad bastard,” he moaned. “I knew I should have taken him out when I had the chance. Now he has her.”
I remembered the girl. We’d had a problem with her on the elevator a few hours earlier: my attorney had made a fool of himself.
“You must be a rider,” she’d said. “What class are you in?”
“Class?” he snapped. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“What do you ride?” she asked with a quick smile.
Suddenly the door swung open. We hesitated, then hurried inside. No sign of trouble. “Bolt everything,” said my attorney. “Use all chains.” He was staring at two Mint Hotel Room keys in his hand. “Where did this one come from?” he said, holding up a key with number 1221 on it.
“That’s Lacerda’s room,” I said.
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s right. I thought we might need it.”
“What for?”
“Let’s go up there and blast him out of bed with the fire he said.
“No,” I said. “We should leave the poor bastard alone, I get the feeling he’s avoiding us for some reason.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he said. “That Portuguese son of bitch is dangerous. He’s watching us like a hawk.” He squinted at me. “Have you made a deal with him?”
“I talked with him on the phone,” I said, “while you were out getting the car washed. He said he was turning in early, so he can get out there to the starting line at dawn.”
My attorney was not listening. He utt.ered an anguished cry and smacked the wall with both hands. “That dirty bastard!” he shouted. “I knew it! He got hold of my woman!”
I laughed. “That little blonde groupie with the film crew? You think he sodomized her?”
“That’s right - laugh about it!” he yelled. “You goddamn honkies are all the same.” By this time he’d
opened a new bottle of tequila and was quaffing it down.
Then he grabbed a grapefruit and sliced it in half with a Gerber Mini - Magnum - a stainless - steel hunting knife with a blade like a fresh - honed straight razor.
“Where’d you get that knife?” I asked.
“Room service sent it up,” he said. “I wanted something to cut the limes.
“What limes?”
“They didn’t have any,” he said. “They don’t grow out here in the desert.” He sliced the grapefruit into quarters then into eighths… then sixteenths… then he began aimlessly at the residue. “That dirty toad bastard,” he moaned. “I knew I should have taken him out when I had the chance. Now he has her.”
I remembered the girl. We’d had a problem with her on the elevator a few hours earlier: my attorney had made a fool of himself.
“You must be a rider,” she’d said. “What class are you in?”
“Class?” he snapped. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“What do you ride?” she asked with a quick smile.