璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第147部分

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　the　median　of　the　John　F。　Kennedy　Highway；　offering　full　restaurant　services　along　with　gas　and　oil　…　good　coffee；　but；　understandably；　no　alcoholic　beverages。　The　Dart　took　a　few　meandering　turns　in　the　parking　lot；　finally　stopping　three　spaces　from　a　white　Oldsmobile　with　Pennsylvania　tags　and　a　brown　vinyl　top。　The　Roadrunner　took　a　space　in　the　next　row。　A　woman　got　out　and　walked　towards　the　brick　restaurant；　a　path　that　took　her　past　the　Olds。　
‘Hey；　baby；‘　a　man　said。　The　woman　stopped　and　took　a　few　steps　towards　the　vinyl…topped　automobile。　The　man　was　Caucasian；　with　long　but　neatly　bed　black　hair　and　an　open…necked　white　shirt。
‘Henry　sent　me；‘　she　said。
‘I　know。‘　He　reached　out　to　stroke　her　face；　a　gesture　which　she　did　not　resist。　He　looked　around　a　little　before　moving　his　hand　downwards。　‘You　have　what　I　want；　baby？‘
‘Yes。‘　She　smiled。　It　was　a　forced；　uneasy　smile；　frightened　but　not　embarrassed。　Doris　was　months　beyond　embarrassment。
‘Nice　tits；‘　the　man　said　with　no　emotional　content　at　all　in　his　voice。　‘Get　the　stuff。‘
Doris　walked　back　to　her　car；　as　though　she‘d　forgotten　something。　She　returned　with　a　large　purse；　almost　a　small　duffel；　really。　As　she　walked　past　the　Olds；　the　man‘s　hand　reached　out　and　took　it。　Doris　proceeded　into　the　building；　returning　a　minute　later　holding　a　can　of　soda；　her　eyes　on　the　Roadrunner；　hoping　that　she‘d　done　everything　right。　The　Olds　had　its　motor　running；　and　the　driver　blew　her　a　kiss；　to　which　she　responded　with　a　wan　smile。
‘That　was　easy　enough；‘　Henry　Tucker　said；　fifty　yards　away；　at　the　outdoor　eating　area　on　the　other　side　of　the　building。
‘Good　stuff？‘　another　man　asked　Tony　Piaggi。　The　three　of　them　sat　at　the　same　table；　‘enjoying‘　the　sultry　evening　while　the　majority　of　the　patrons　were　inside　with　the　air　conditioning。
‘The　best。　Same　as　the　sample　we　gave　you　two　weeks　ago。　Same　shipment　and　everything；‘　Piaggi　assured　him。
‘And　if　the　mule　gets　burned？‘　the　man　from　Philadelphia　asked。
‘She　won‘t　talk；‘　Tucker　assured　him。　‘They‘ve　all　seen　what　happens　to　bad　girls。‘　As　they　watched；　a　man　got　out　of　the　Roadrunner　and　got　into　the　Dart‘s　driver‘s　seat。
‘Very　good；‘　Rick　told　Doris。
‘Can　we　go　now？‘　she　asked　him；　shaking　now　that　the　job　was　over；　sipping　nervously　at　her　soda。
‘Sure；　baby；　I　know　what　you　want。‘　Rick　smiled　and　started　the　car。　‘Be　nice；　now。　Show　me　something。‘
‘There‘s　people　around；‘　Doris　said。
‘So？‘
Without　another　word；　Doris　unbuttoned　her　shirt　…　it　was　a　man‘s　shin…leaving　it　tucked　into　her　faded　shorts。　Rick　reached　in　and　smiled；　turning　the　wheel　with　his　left　hand。　It　could　have　been　worse；　Doris　told　herself；　closing　her　eyes；　pretending　that　she　was　someone　else　in　some　other　place；　wondering　how　long　before　her　life　would　end　too；　hoping　it　wouldn‘t　be　long。
‘The　money？‘　Piaggi　asked。
‘I　need　a　cup　of　coffee。‘　The　other　man　got　up　and　walked　inside；　leaving　his　briefcase；　which　Piaggi　took　in　his　hand。　He　and　Tucker　walked　off　to　his　car；　a　blue　Cadillac；　without　waiting　for　the　other　man　to　e　back。
‘Not　going　to　count　it？‘　Tucker　asked　halfway　across　the　parking　lot。
‘If　he　stiffs　us；　he　knows　what　happens。　This　is　business；　Henry。‘
"；That‘s　right；‘　Tucker　agreed。
‘Bill　Murphy；‘　Kelly　said。　‘I　understand　you　have　some　vacant　apartments。‘　He　held　up　the　Sunday　paper。
‘What　are　you　looking　for？‘
‘A　one…bedroom　would　be　fine。　I　really　just　need　a　place　to　hang　my　clothes；‘　Kelly　told　the　man。　‘I　travel　a　lot。‘
‘Salesman？‘　the　manager　asked。
‘That‘s　right。　Machine　tools。　I‘m　new　here　…　new　territory；　I　mean。‘
It　was　an　old　garden…apartment　plex；　built　soon　after　the　Second　World　War　for　returning　veterans；　posed　exclusively　of　three…story　brick　structures。　The　trees　looked　about　right　for　that　time　period。　They‘d　been　planted　then　and　grown　well；　tall　enough　now　to　support　a　good　population　of　squirrels；　wide　enough　to　give　shade　to　the　parking　areas。　Kelly　looked　around　approvingly　as　the　manager　took　him　to　a　first…floor　furnished　unit。
‘This　is　just　fine；‘　Kelly　announced。　He　looked　around；　testing　the　kitchen　sink　and　other　plumbing　fixtures。　The　furniture　was　obviously　used；　but　in　decent　shape。　There　were　even　air　conditioners　in　the　windows　of　every　room。
‘I　have　other　ones　…‘
‘This　is　just　what　I　need。　How　much？‘
‘One　seventy…five　a　month；　one　month　security　deposit。‘
‘Utilities？‘
‘You　can　pay　them　yourself　or　we　can　bill　it。　Some　of　our　renters　prefer　that。　They‘ll　average　about　forty…five　dollars　a　month。‘
‘Easier　to　pay　one　bill　than　two　or　three。　Let‘s　see。　One　seventy…five；　plus　forty…five　。。。‘
‘Two…twenty；‘　the　manager　assured　him。
‘Fine。‘　Kelly　took　out　his　wallet；　handing　over　the　bills。　He　stopped。　‘No；　six…sixty；　we‘ll　make　it　three　months；　if　that‘s　okay。　And　I　need　a　receipt。‘　The　helpful　manager　pulled　a　pad　from　his　pocket　and　wrote　one　up　on　the　spot。　‘How　about　a　phone？‘　Kelly　asked。
‘I　can　have　that　done　by　Tuesday　if　you　want。　There‘s　another　deposit　for　that。‘
‘Please　take　care　of　that；　if　you　would。‘　Kelly　handed　over　some　more　money。　‘My　stuff　won‘t　be　here　for　a　while。　Where　can　I　get　sheets　and　stuff？‘
‘Nothing　much　open　today。　Tomorrow；　lots　of‘em。‘
Kelly　looked　through　the　bedroom　door　at　the　bare　mattress。　He　could　see　the　lumps　from　this　distance。　He　shrugged。　‘Well；　I‘ve　slept　on　worse。‘
‘Veteran？‘
‘Marine；‘　Kelly　said。
‘So　was　I　once；‘　the　manager　replied；　surprising　Kelly。　‘You　don‘t　do　anything　wild；　do　you？‘　He　didn‘t　expect　so；　but　the　owner　insisted　that　he　ask；　even　ex…Marines。　The　answer　was　a　sheepish；　reassuring　grin。
‘I　snore　pretty　bad；　they　tell　me。‘
Twenty　minutes　later　Kelly　was　in　a　cab　heading　downtown。　He　got　out　at　Penn　Station　and　caught　the　next　train　to　DC；　where　another　taxi　delivered　him　to　his　boat。　By　nightfall　Springer　was　headed　down　the　Potomac。　It　would　have　been　so　much　easier；　Kelly　told　himself；　if　there　were　just　one　person　to　help　him。　So　much　of　his　time　was　tied　up　with　useless　muting。　But　was　it　really　useless？　Maybe　not。　He　was　getting　a　lot　of　thinking　done；　and　that　was　as　important　as　his　physical　preparations。　Kelly　arrived　at　his　home　just　before　midnight　after　siх　continuous　hours　of　thinking　and　planning。
Despite　a　weekend　of　almost　nonstop　motion；　there　was　no　time　to　dawdle。　Kelly　packed　clothing；　most　of　it　purchased　in　the　suburbs　of　Washington。　Linens　he　would　buy　in　Baltimore。　Food　the　same。　His　。45　automatic；　plus　the　。22…。45　conversion　kit；　was　packed　in　with　old　clothing；　along　with　two　boxes　of　ammunition。　He　shouldn‘t　need　more　than　that；　Kelly　thought；　and　ammo　was　heavy。　While　he　fabricated　one　more　silencer；　this　one　for　the　Woodsman；　he　thought　through　his　preparations。　His　physical　condition　was　excellent；　nearly　as　good　as　it　had　been　in　3rd　SOG；　and　he‘d　been　shooting　every　day。　His　aim　was　probably　better　than　it　had　ever　been；　he　told　himself；　going　through　what　were　now　almost　mindless　mechanical　operations　on　the　machine　tools。　By　three　in　the　morning　the　new　suppressor　was　fitted　to　the　Woodsman　and　tested。　Thirty　minutes　after　that　he　was　back　aboard　Springer；　headed　north；　looking　forward　to　a　few　hours‘　sleep　once　he　got　past　Annapolis。
It　was　a　lonely　night；　with　scattered　clouds；　and　his　mind　drifted　somewhat　before　he　manded　himself　to　concentrate。　He　was　not　a　lazy　civilian　anymore；　but　Kelly　allowed　himself　his　first　beer　in　weeks　while　his　mind　churned　over　variables。　What　had　he　forgotten？　The　reassuring　answer　was　that　he　could　think　of　nothing。　The　less…than…satisfactory　thought　was　that　he　still　knew　little。　Billy　with　his　red　Plymouth　muscle　car。　A　black　guy　named　Henry。　He　knew　their　area　of　operation。　And　that　was　all。
But。
But　he‘d　fought　armed　and　trained　enemies　with　less　knowledge　than　that；　and　though　he　would　force　himself　to　be　just　as　careful　now　as　he　had　been　there；　deep　down　he　knew　that　he　would　acplish　this　mission。　Partly　it　was　because　he　was　more　formidable　than　they；　and　far　more　highly　motivated。　The　other　part；　Kelly　realized　with　surprise；　was　because　he　didn‘t　care　about　the　consequences；　only　the　results。　He　remembered　something　from　his　Catholic　prep　school；　a　passage　from　Virgil‘s　Aeneid　that　had　defined　his　mission　almost　two　thousand　years　before：　Una　salus　victus　nullam　sperare　salutem。　The　one　hope　of　the　doomed　is　not　to　hope　for　safety。　The　very　grimness　of　the　thought　made　him　smile　as　he　sailed　under　the　stars；　light　dispatched　from　distances　so　vast　that　it　had　begun　its　journey　long　before　Kelly；　or　even　Virgil；　had　been　born。
The　pills　helped　shut　out　reality；　but　not　all　the　way。　Doris　didn‘t　so　much　think　the　thought　as　listen　to　it；　sense　it；　like　recognizing　something　that　she　didn‘t　wish　to　face　but　refused　to　go　away。　She　was　too　dependent　on　the　barbiturates　now。　Sleep　came　hard　to　her；　and　in　the　emptiness　of　the　room　she　was　unable　to　avoid　herself。　She　would　have　taken　more　pills　if　she　could；　but　they　didn‘t　allow　her　what　she　wanted；　not　that　she　wanted　much。　Just　brief　oblivion；　a　short…term　liberation　from　her　fear；　that　was　all　…　and　that　was　something　they　had　no　inte