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Chapter Nine

Lee was sitting in The Ninth Inning cafe at Champions, waiting for Beau Jaynes and checking out the baseball games and pitchers for the day. It was his favourite little eating place, situated just opposite the race and sports book, where he could drink his coffee and get instant updates on all the action.

Everything had worked out well the night before. Lee had taken a cab up to McCarran, and the gun that Mr Lomax had promised him had been in its appointed place, discreetly and expertly packaged. Lee was familiar with most hand guns, even though he hadn't fired one in many years. This one, a Smith & Wesson semi-automatic, was easy to carry and beautiful to handle. It would be his permanent companion in the days that followed, and he had already familiarised himself with its weight and feel.

Beau was ten minutes late and full of apologies. He was carrying a brown envelope, which he placed on the table, and still seemed worried that Lee might doubt his credentials. \"I was afraid you might not show, partner,\" he said with a nervous smile. \"Hey, I'm a little too familiar, that's my trouble. I shouldn't have been so fast and eager yesterday. I'm like that, you know? Someone interests me and I just walk right up to 'em. Must have spooked ya, some cowboy like me divin' straight in like that.\"

Lee waved a hand. \"It's no problem, Beau, honestly. Sit down.\"

Beau squeezed himself into the booth but was still plainly concerned by Lee's defensive demeanour. \"Listen, Ray, if you're in any doubt at all about this, I'll walk away right now and you'll never see me again. There's no shit goin' down here, I swear it.\"

Lee laughed. \"Hey, you've convinced me, okay? Let's get some food inside us before we go any further.\"

When the waitress had taken their orders, Beau gave Lee a conspiratorial little grin and pushed the envelope towards him. \"I'll start with a real off the wall question,\" he explained. \"Do you believe in UFOs, Ray?\"

\"Why? Is Herron a fucking alien?\"

\"Nah, nah, this ain't got nothin' to do with Herron. Take a look at those.\"

Lee opened the envelope and there were about a dozen photographs showing mysterious flying objects. There were day and night shots and the pictures appeared to be genuine and of good quality. \"Pretty neat with a camera, ain't I?\" Beau boasted. \"That's one of my hobbies, man. I took those out in the desert. No tricks, none of that crap. You see some real weird things around these parts. Nobody can ever really explain 'em. I gave those to the local TV station when I first took 'em two years ago, and one of those scientific egg heads came on with the usual bullshit about light reflection or refraction or whatever the hell it is. I'm tellin' ya, man, I saw 'em. And I shot exactly what I saw.\" He stabbed one of the pictures with his finger and said, \"This one here, this cylinder shaped bastard.... it stopped dead right above me. I thought it was gonna shine a big light on me, scoop me up, and then a coupla little weirdos would stick steel rods in my brains and mess about with my dick and all that stuff. But then this thing just shoots away at a speed you wouldn't believe. These things never go in normal directions, Ray. They zig-zag all over the sky. They're faster than anything we know. Whaddya think? Do you believe in all this?\"

Lee shrugged. \"I don't disbelieve anything that hasn't been disproved. I think it's arrogant of us to believe we're the only ones here. Never seen one myself, though.\"

Beau's face lit up. \"Hey, that don't matter none. You got an open mind, that's what's important. I ain't crazy about this, you understand. I don't go around tellin' folks I been raped by some Martian bitch with eight tits. You want, I'll take you out there later. We can stop by at my place and pick up a few beers first.\"

\"Sounds good,\" Lee said. \"We see Herron first though, right?\"

\"Hey, brother, that's arranged already. I talked to the man and he's really cool about it. Eleven o'clock in his suite at the Queen Of The West. Be ready to make a trip if he likes ya. He's got this huge, swanky place he likes to show friends around. Fuckin' huge place. If he takes you out there, Ray, you're in. You're a pal. Listen, you got some wheels yet?\"

\"Not yet.\"

\"He's asked me to take care of that for ya. There's a Chevy Tahoe waitin' for your approval.\"

\"Christ, I'm flattered,\" Lee said. \"And you're absolutely sure he understands I'm not going to thank him by losing?\"

Beau smiled contentedly as he carefully replaced his photographs in the envelope. \"Ray, everythin' about this is good for us. You're a pro, you do what you have to do, you don't brag about it. You come in quietly, you walk away quietly, whatever the result. I can tell that. Herron can't stand lippy bastards, that's where he draws the line. If you take him, there'll be a second bite at the cherry and maybe a third. Now if you crowed about it.... then he'd probably kill ya. This is the Ali-Frazier series of poker, man. We can spin this out for as long as we want.\"

\"One big hit, Bea,\" Lee said, \"I just need the one big hit. Frazier took a second fight with Ali and lost it. If this guy piles enough money in the pot, he won't get a second chance at me.\"

In the couple of hours they had to kill after breakfast, Lee accompanied Beau over to The Mirage to watch his beloved white tigers. There was actually only one tiger on show and it was asleep, but Beau stood there like a fascinated child, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Lee couldn't help feeling a growing fondness for the big fellow and hoped that his intentions were good. But he was either charmingly innocent or stunningly clumsy in his great rush to move things along. Lee wasn't being finessed. He felt as if he were being constantly shoved towards a big hole in that yawning desert by a guy who had merely forgotten to stick on his Villain badge before coming out. Either that, or he was being smothered by an affable lug who probably hadn't had a true friend since the hell of his war.

Beau's cheerful chat seemed completely genuine. If it was bullshit, it was cleverly contrived bullshit, because there was so much urgent joy and wonder in his voice when he spoke of the things he loved.

Everything came in threes with Beau. He wanted to know Lee's three favourite fighters, his three favourite baseball players, his three favourite pin-ups. And he would roar with delight if one of Lee's choices matched his own. Beau constantly felt the need to explain the obvious, like a self-conscious child. He told Lee that the three guys he'd most like to take lunch with were Jack Kerouac, Charlie Bird Parker and Jackson Pollock, then added, \"Well, I mean, I know I couldn't, 'cos they're all dead, but if they was alive....\"

As they strolled up to the Queen Of The West, Beau was getting a little jumpy and offering Lee the most fundamental tips on the social graces. \"Just kinda say hello normally, Ray, you don't gotta tip your hat or nothin'. Well, like, I know you're not wearin' a hat, but....\"

\"Beau,\" Lee said finally, \"this guy takes me as I am. I'm not going to fart at the table or piss on his carpet as I go out. I didn't initiate this little shindig, remember? If I'm not up to snuff, I'll happily walk away and find my big game elsewhere. I'm a gambler, Beau. Fear of unemployment is the one thing that doesn't worry me in this town.\"

Beau stopped walking and looked at Lee admiringly, as if Lee had just invented common sense. \"Yeah, that's good, Ray. That's smart thinkin', pal.\"

Phil Herron's sumptuous suite lay behind one of many secretive side doors at the Queen Of The West, most of them marked Private or Staff Only. His name wasn't on the door, just the words Chief Executive. \"It's safe for Philly to say what he is these day,\" Beau joked. He tapped quietly on the door, and as he and Lee entered the room Herron was already out from behind his desk and walking across to meet them. Polite and almost humble in his greeting, he wasn't at all the loud and brash bruiser in a suit Lee had visualised. He shook Lee's hand warmly and almost tentatively patted him on the shoulder, as if he were meeting a man he idolised. \"Hey, Ray,\" he said, \"I'm very pleased to meet you. Please come and sit down. Beau's told me a lot of fine things about you.\"

Phil Herron was 55 and leathery faced, yet for all the wars he had been in, he still managed to look a good ten years younger. He was stocky but hadn't run to fat, neat and elegant in appearance and quietly confident and self-assured in his manner. His hair was dyed the black of boot polish but immaculately coiffured in that certain Las Vegas way, while his tough hands - big knuckled and freckled - boasted perfectly manicured nails. He was wearing a dark blue blazer and blue shirt with light coloured slacks, and he wore them well. He even went light on the cologne, a rare thing for gangsters.

Herron's business suite was fittingly huge for a man of his stature, yet showed little signs of vanity. No portrait gallery of Phil with numerous luminaries, no plaques or trophies, no head of some beast he had shot hanging on the wall. There were framed photographs of his wife and grown up children on his vast desk, but the only nod to himself was an old black and white picture in which he was shaking hands at the poker table with a guy Lee recognised. \"You know who that is?\" Herron asked, noticing Lee's interest.

\"Texas Johnny Stinson,\" Lee said admiringly. \"My God, did you know him?\"

\"Know him?\" Herron chuckled. \"I played him for twenty hours straight one day and night in San Antonio. June, 1967. The son of a bitch finally beat me. I was living in Phoenix in those days and had to bum my train fare home. I've never been the sort to have pictures of myself all over the place. But I had to have one of myself and the great man there. Pity it ain't in colour. We asked this little old guy to take it who'd been watching us all the way through, and he had this camera from out of the ark. Johnny and me look like a couple of those old timers from the thirties. Still, what the hell. Greatest five card stud player I ever met, Johnny Stinson. Died at thirty-seven from stomach cancer. All the shit walking around on the streets and guys like Johnny die at that age.\"

\"Yeah, I read a lot about him. He was one of the greats,\" Lee acknowledged.

\"I think we found another one in old Ray here, Phil,\" Beau interjected.

Herron smiled. \"I hope we have. I usually take my first shot of bourbon around this time, Ray. Would you care to join me?\"

\"Bourbon's fine, thank-you.\"

Herron buzzed his secretary to order the drinks and some nibbles, and the three men shot the breeze as the attractive young woman discreetly busied herself laying everything out. She was a devastating looker who seemed to have a special rapport with Herron, and after she'd floated delightfully away, Phil inhaled her fragrance with a schoolboyish grin and said, \"Some days I drink more than I should just to have that little gal of mine come in here and pour it for me.\"

He gave Lee the kind of look that spiritual brothers reserve for each other and asked, \"So, Ray, what's your preferred game?\"

\"Hold 'Em's the one that gets my juices flowing,\" Lee replied. \"But poker's poker to me. Five card stud is fine.\"

\"I like the drama of it, the purity of it,\" Herron explained with enthusiasm. \"Hold 'Em's a nice game but I just don't like too many cards floating around - especially when they're face down. One in the hole is enough to concentrate a man's mind. You ever had a crack at the world championship over at Binion's?\"

\"No, I've been there to watch it. Never played in it. Too many players. I don't want to beat fifty guys just to get where I wanted to be in the first place. One on one, that's my thing. I want to go straight in there against the top man.\"

Herron flashed a big smile and gently rapped the desk with his knuckles. \"So do I,\" he said. \"So the fuck do I, kid. So you play the underground circuits, right?\"

\"Right. But I've been too deep underground just lately. Small time punks for small change. Then they want to fuck up your trip home because they can't take it on the chin. I'm tired of all that.\"

\"You played here before?\"

\"Played just about everywhere. I've done okay. But I've always been chasing a Johnny Stinson and never caught up with him. It's like playing softball instead of baseball. I want to hit one into the bleachers at Yankee Stadium.\"

Herron didn't sneer or snigger at Lee's words. He knew exactly what his young adversary meant, exactly how he felt. Phil took a slow slip of his bourbon, smiled at Beau and said, \"This guy's got it as bad as I have.\" He eased back in his big leather chair and tilted his head back slightly as if he were addressing the gods. \"No limit poker, Ray. And I mean no limit on anything. Money, time, anything. That's what does it for me. There's nothing else that gives me such pleasure, such a thrill. That duel I had with Johnny Stinson in San Antonio.... it beats anything I've ever done since, even though he whipped my ass. And I've achieved a few things since then. Holding onto this fucking place has been one of them. We sweated, we smoked, we drank, we damn near sprouted a beard each over those twenty hours. I felt exhilarated, dog tired, happy, sad.... the whole works. And then I went back to Phoenix and Johnny went to wherever he went and we never did it again. I never had another fight like that. Never felt I was going to Heaven and Hell at the same time. He beat me with a pair of nines. Just a pair of old nines.

\"I've still got those cards back at my house. They still smell of San Antonio. Always will. That was my life, playing poker. I hustled anywhere and everywhere I could, all over this great country of ours. Every town's got a game going, Ray. But the one you really want..... that takes a long time coming. And sometimes it's the only one you ever get. I played all the big towns. New York, New Orleans, Chicago, Miami, L.A., San Francisco. But I stopped after San Antonio because I figured that was as good as it gets. Like you, I couldn't be doing with second best anymore. I'd got as high as I figured a man could.\"

Lee nodded. \"And then I came along.\"

\"And then you came along. So now we're a pair. It would be a shame not to do something about that. You're staying at Champions, so Beau tells me.\"

\"That's right.\"

\"Why don't you move over here? I've got to take care of some business up in Reno for a couple of days. Your accommodation will be free, food and drink too. There's a nice Chevy waiting out back for you and I'm sure Beau can find you a couple of showgirls to fuck.\"

Lee laughed. \"I'm happy at Champions, Phil. But it's a very generous offer and I greatly appreciate it. The showgirls I might take you up on. When would you be ready to play?\"

\"The weekend. Saturday night. The poker room at my place, if you're comfortable with that. Just you, me and Beau. Just a couple of pros with an honest and impartial referee. I've heard you're a guy who doesn't like any frills and that's my kind of set-up too. We lock ourselves in and beat up on each other until one of us falls down. Sound appealing?\"

\"Exactly what I want.\"

\"You want a ride out there now? It isn't Yankee Stadium but it's damn near as big.\"

\"I'd like that,\" Lee said.

\"Great, I'll have my man drive us. You can pick up the Chevy when we get back.\"

The stretch limo was waiting when the three men got outside. Jet black and gleaming, it was the usual swanky job, half a mile long and housing all the creature comforts except a swimming pool and Jacuzzi. Beau was thrilled with the way the meeting had gone and kept giving Lee furtive little winks and smiles as they stood on the sidewalk. Lee's instinct told him the situation was safe but he was ready for any sudden blip in the schedule. Herron really did seem to want a good slugging game of poker against a kindred spirit. But these guys were so damn good at appearing to be your friend, and once again Lee was consumed by that indescribably wondrous urge to take the risk and fight its consequences. Both possibilities thrilled him equally; seeing whether he could take Herron for money or for life itself.

Herron himself seemed incredibly relaxed and genial, glad of this chance to escape from the hub of his empire. As they drove out of town, he pointed at various casinos and had a story to tell about all of them. Vegas was in his blood and Lee could see why the big man had fought so long and so hard to retain his foothold. Phil's knowledge of the town and the way it worked was awesome. He could point to any gambling house and tell you how it was run, who managed it, its history, its best features and its worst.

\"A lot of these joints could be so much better than they are,\" he told Lee. \"You see the potential, but then you see that good old American 'bring the family' psychology. They dress these places up like Disneyland theme rides, so everyone brings their kids along and then some security guy walks up and tells them no children are allowed in the casino. You see young kids and toddlers all over the place, yet their parents can't take them beyond a certain line. Fucking crazy, Ray. Kids don't belong in these kind of places anyway. I always vowed I'd never go down that road. The folks who come to my place.... they come there to gamble and to get away from their kids and other distractions for the weekend. I never conned anyone like that. You want to amuse your kids, take them to the park, take them to the zoo. They don't want to be sucking in smoke and picking up bad habits in a casino.\"

Herron proved to be a very simple but persuasive philosopher as he rattled on, and Beau the ideal sidekick, nodding in agreement and chipping in with the occasional, \"Right on, Phil.\" Utterly disparate in appearance and general demeanour, the two men were clearly bound by sound mutual respect. Together, with their pool of intelligence, guile and bravery, they were the kind of friends you wanted, the kind of enemies you dreaded.

Lee wondered how they truly saw him, but he was enjoying the ride and Phil's colourful and frank commentary. Lee never ceased to be fascinated by the uniqueness of Vegas and its bizarre and tenuous marriage of fantasy and reality. The two partners were vividly contrasting and devastatingly clear cut, each claiming its own formidable territory. Within minutes, you could drive beyond the reach of the great electronic beast's tentacles and be just as intimidatingly flanked by the desert as nature had intended it. They drove past shopping malls and properties until the last little islands of the town became more divided and then petered out.

Herron's estate was a good distance beyond and almost obscenely huge. He hadn't been kidding Lee about its size. The main house lay beyond palatial gates and was fronted by a lake that could have been an ocean. There were various other properties dotted about the vast grounds, including a peach coloured four bedroomed house which Herron quaintly referred to as his daughter's summer cottage. There was a golf course, tennis courts, swimming pools and villas for special guests. Herron had certainly come a long way since his last great poker game in San Antonio.

\"I play a few special friends out here every Friday evening,\" he told Lee. \"It's good fun, but there's no bite to it, Ray. No edge. They're nice fella's who don't want to win that badly anymore and don't get pissed off when they lose. When you're around guys like that for too long, you forget how to win in the clutch yourself.\" He praised his wife and his only daughter as the two greatest people in his life and asked Lee if he was married. \"Greatest thing I ever did, Ray. You want to find yourself that one special woman before you're through. Makes a man strong. Makes him responsible. Makes him whole in fact. I keep telling Beau here the same thing.\"

And for a few fleeting and dizzying seconds, Lee felt sad and terribly alone in the world.

Herron's poker room was a joy for Lee. Spacious but still intimate enough to hold and nurture a tense atmosphere, it was a heavenly sea of green and blue baize, with a sensibly sized card table, a pool table, a neat little bar and a wonderfully preserved fifties jukebox in the corner. Pictures of Herron's favourite sportsmen adorned three walls, the fourth wall hosting an enormous plasma TV screen so that Phil could watch his favourite football games in style.

Beau popped the tops off some beers and played some pool as Herron and Lee sat down at the poker table. \"You know, I actually collect cards,\" Herron confessed. \"I collect dice, slot machines, even craps tables. I'm surrounded by that shit twenty four hours a day and I still like to be around it when I get home. Jennifer, my wife, she's convinced I lost my sanity years ago. I just love picking up a deck of cards and feeling them. You understand that, Ray?\"

Lee nodded. \"One hundred per cent.\"

\"And you're absolutely sure about going the whole way? I mean, all the damn way. I don't mean to sound patronising, but money's no longer a worry for me.\"

\"Then I'll have to divest you of some of it, Phil.\"

It was the kind of spunky response Herron admired and he laughed heartily and slammed a meaty hand into Lee's shoulder. \"You know, kid, it's a pity you're a lone ranger. It sounds like an old cliché to say that I could use a man like you, but I could. Men like us don't come down the pike too often, Ray. Men with courage who aren't scared of throwing the dice or seeing the other guy's hole card. We want to know what's on the other side and we're not afraid of going there. Beau's told you a bit about me, no doubt.\"

\"He generalised,\" Lee said. \"He was very diplomatic.\"

\"Yeah, Beau's a good sort. One of the few men I trust. He's got that certain something too, you see. Saved my life once. Threw himself at some fucking maniac who wanted to shoot me. How many guys would have done that? Didn't even think about taking a bullet himself. I've had guys like that taking runs at me all my life, Ray. And I'm still here. You'd think I'd be tired of it but I love beating off those bastards. Men like you and me, we don't retire. What are we going to do? Play golf? We'd still bet on the fucking outcome.\"

\"I do that already,\" Lee chuckled.

\"But you got fed up with things in England and decided to try your luck in the biggest jungle of them all.\"

\"That's about it, yeah.\"

There was something odd about Herron's remark, something a little too forced about it, which signalled to Lee to keep his guard up. Herron didn't leave it there. With what appeared to be genuine concern, he lowered his voice a little and said, \"Listen, Ray, if you're taking some heat right now, I can see that it goes away. I'm not going to push you on this, because I know the kind of man you are. I just want you to know you haven't wandered into an enemy camp here. Hey, this isn't down to me being a great mind reader. Beau's taken a liking to you and he's a little worried. He's still a street guy. He can sense these things better than I can. I'm not going to take offence here if you tell me to fuck off.\"

\"Everything's okay, Phil. But I understand what you're saying and I'm not offended by it.\"

\"Good. We want you in the best shape for Saturday night, right?\"

\"I've been waiting for it all my life.\"

Beau whooped with delight as he potted his last ball and said, \"Keep workin' on that boy, Phil. I still reckon we can get him on our team.\"

Lee was tired when he got back to town, mentally more than physically, and declined Beau's invitation to take a late lunch. He needed a shower and a rest and some time to think. Herron melted back into his natural surroundings at the Queen Of The West, while Lee and Beau took the Chevy Tahoe over to Champions. It was viciously hot downtown and Lee's sugar level was dropping dangerously low, blurring his vision and affecting his mental sharpness. He was good at hiding his diabetic discomfort from others but needed privacy to treat it properly. He had promised to accompany Beau to his favourite UFO site later in the afternoon and had to be at full strength. His gut feeling told him that Beau and Phil Herron were on his side, but he couldn't afford to take anything for granted. Maybe Beau didn't have a home out there in the shimmering heat. Maybe there were no UFOs. Just a well dug hole.

Lee was also feeling the first twinges of sexual unrest. Deep within him, Barbara was beginning to pine for her freedom, stirred by the smell and the electricity of so many glamorous women in this glamorous town. They were in the casinos and out on the sidewalks, fragrant and achingly gorgeous. Showgirls and Keno girls, waitresses, businesswomen, teenagers and hitch-hikers. Lee wanted to rip his clothes off and unashamedly screw every one he saw. Barbara admired and desired them for other reasons.

Lee agreed to meet up with Beau again at around four and spent his free time cooling off and drinking sweet orange juice. He had to hold on now, think clearly and keep his self discipline. He had to be ready for any twist in the tale and be alert enough to react to it. Barbara had none of her clothes at hand, so there was no sense in playing with the devil and challenging her to a fight.

Lee had secured his dream match with Phil Herron. He had a gun, a friend in Mr Lomax and his own formidable fighting ability. If it all went bad, he would still come out on top. He was sure of that. He was in the prime of his life. A killer for all seasons.

Beau was all fidgety and excited again when Lee met him outside the casino. Lee threw him the keys to the Chevy and said, \"I can tell you like it. I'll sit back and watch the scenery.\"

\"I love the desert at this time of the day,\" Beau said gleefully. \"Hell, I love the desert any time of the day. It's awesome, man. Dangerous. Like a big old lady spider waitin' for you to fall into her web if you don't show her the proper respect. You know why I keep doin' this, Ray? Because one of these days, one of those spaceships is gonna land in my back garden and all the crew are gonna be six foot blondes.\"

\"And I must be as mad as you are for coming with you,\" Lee said. \"Come on, drive the damn car.\"

Beau was right about the desert, though. It was indeed awesome. Lee could see it from his hotel room as he listened to the doleful bell-clanging that heralded the mighty trains thundering into town out of the vast wilderness. The sound and the sight were so perfectly matched. Haunting and eerie, yet thrillingly so. There was no great roar to the desert, save for the occasional thunderstorms that boomed in the sky like mighty engines. It silence and its stillness were perhaps the most chilling features of its formidable armoury, as it roasted contentedly in its own furnace. The desert played the same waiting game as the vulture. It knew it would get you if you missed your chance to get out. It shimmered and danced, never tiring of trying to tire you.

Along the way, Beau jumped out at his apartment to fetch some cold beers, and invited Lee to take a look. It was a cosy, two bedroomed number and appropriately zany. Posters of Beau's rock heroes were everywhere, fighting for wall space with Star Trek and other sci-fi memorabilia. \"There's a Wal-Mart just up the road and some other shops,\" he said cheerfully. \"I got everythin' I need in this little area of mine. If those guys downtown keep pissin' ya off with their hotel rates, you wanna come move in here. You're welcome, you know.\"

\"I might just do that,\" Lee said.

Beau got a six-pack out of the fridge, then put some binoculars and a camera into an old army bag. \"No shit, we could see somethin' today,\" he insisted. \"This kinda thing ain't so rare, Ray, I'm tellin' ya.\"

\"If these glamour girls carry us off to their planet, I'm not going to get my game with Herron,\" Lee said.

Beau laughed. \"Yeah, fuck you, smart ass.\"

They drove a good way out, with Beau giving an excited commentary as he gestured at scrubby vegetation, hard sand, soft sand, rocks and general nothingness, and praised it all with his full lexicon of superlatives. \"I love the desert, man\" - he kept saying it.

Deep into the great oven, where the quietness makes a person's ears ring, Beau stopped the Chevy and said, \"This is the place. This is where I saw that cylinder shaped baby.\"

\"The zig-zagger,\" Lee said.

\"Yeah, right. Man, listen to that.\"

\"Listen to what?\"

\"Nothin', Ray. That's the point. It's like somethin' big is gonna happen at any second out here. And it did that day I took my pictures. I thought they were fancy kinda planes at first, ya know? All that futuristic shit our people try out in secret. But what I saw.... they weren't planes, brother.\"

Then Beau got a little down and said, \"I wish I'd never told anyone else, though. They all laugh at ya, Ray. Even those fuckin' hypocrites at the TV station. I mean, they're happy to take what you got and stir it up for the authorities. But they're still laughin' at ya behind your back, like the government and the air force and all those other bastards. They all think you're a fuckin' nutbar.\"

\"Let 'em think it,\" Lee said. \"I believe you.\"

\"You do? Seriously, brother?\"

\"Seriously.\"

Lee looked back down the road and a big white camper was slowing and pulling over just behind the Chevy. He looked at Beau and asked, \"You haven't started a club for this kind of thing, have you?\"

Beau gave a sombre shake of the head, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses, the sides of his mouth turned down. Suddenly, Lee didn't feel at all comfortable with the way things were going. He wanted Beau to say something, but Beau was craning his head at the camper like a scout confirming that the cavalry had arrived. Lee could feel the desert contracting, this one little acre becoming a ship in a bottle, as a jovial little trip took on a much darker complexion.

Two men got out of the camper, one fat the other thin, looking like archetypes of lost tourists in Hawaiian shirts, baggy shorts and floppy sun hats. Their faces and arms were red and blotchy from the sun, their legs milk white. The fat man was wrestling with a street map and the thin man was scratching his backside as if trying to re-establish contact with his briefs. \"Hello,\" the fat man shouted in a London accent. He was looking at Lee very nervously, like a man who'd read too many stories about nasty things happening to out-of-towners who stopped in strange places. \"I'm sorry to trouble you guys, but my friend and I are trying to get to Mount Charleston. Are we going the right way?\"

Neither man would venture any closer. Nothing was right about the way they looked or the way the fat man spoke. Lee didn't answer. He wanted to gauge the guy's reaction and started to edge away from Beau so that he could have all three men in his sights. The fat man couldn't maintain his act and his partner had assumed a new and far more confident bearing. The fat man looked out across the desert as he spoke to Lee. \"You can come back and take your medicine in London, Connor, or we can bury you here. We're very versatile, but make your choice because this heat is pissing me off.\"

\"This is very serious,\" Beau said to Lee. \"Better make that choice, man.\"

The fat man was reaching inside his shirt, but as Lee was out-drawing him, his hearing was shattered by two mighty explosions. Beau had felled both men and they were writhing and moaning in the road as he fired two more shots and rendered them quiet.

Lee was stunned by the turn of events. He was holding his ears, waiting for Beau's next move, still not sure that the killing was over. Then Beau replaced his gun and said, \"Shit, man, we need this like a hole in the head.\" There was an incredibly casual air about the remark, as if he'd just swatted a couple of flies, but then his tone changed. \"You wanna start talkin' to me, Ray? You wanna start tellin' me a few things now? Like who the fuck you really are?\"

\"You knew I was hot.\" Lee said. \"Something happened back in London. I didn't want it to complicate things out here. I honestly thought I'd cut myself off from all this crap. But I swear to you, Beau, I've never seen these two guys before.\"

Beau took his glasses off and didn't look too convinced. He gestured at the fat man and asked, \"What about lard ass, there? Was that an authentic accent?\"

\"Yeah, it seemed like it.\"

\"And you're Connor?\"

\"Yeah. Lee Connor.\"

\"Fuckin' great, man. I don't have enough trouble with names already. Now I gotta get used to callin' ya Lee. Who's after ya?\"

Lee wouldn't answer and Beau shook his head in frustration. \"Terrific. You still think I'm the boogie man. Okay, we'll thrash this out later. I gotta clean this shit up before any more day trippers come passin' through. Take the Chevy and head on back to Champions. I'll call ya\"

\"How are you going to get rid of these two?\" Lee asked.

\"Well it ain't gonna be a stroll in the park, man. Contrary to the image you have of me, I don't happen to carry a fuckin' shovel around in the back of my car.\"

As Lee got into the Chevy, Beau called out, \"Why Ray Robinson?\"

\"The middleweight champ,\" Lee said.

Beau grinned. \"Yeah, well, that makes two rip-off merchants. His real name was Walker Smith.\"

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