Smoke was sitting cross-legged on his bed as he filled a hypodermic syringe with a poisonous mixture of solvents and rat poison that he had stolen from the hardware section of Wal-Mart when he had taken the road dogs out to find NASCAR colors.
"What the fuck do you want?" Smoke shouted at Possum. Smoke was high on beer, crack cocaine, and meanness after robbing another convenience store and discovering there was only eighty-two dollars in the cash drawer. "You seen Cat? Where the hell is Cat?" Smoke shouted again as he stuck the orange plastic cap back on the tip of the hypodermic needle.
Possum cracked open the door and peered through the space, his heart hammering.
"Smoke, I don't mean to bother you none, but there's something on the Trooper Truth web you got to see!" Possum said in a small, intimidated voice. "It's got to do with a whole lot of treasure and we can get it if we think quick. What you doing with that needle?"
Smoke jumped up from the bed, his bare chest covered with tattoos and beaded with sweat. His eyes were glassy, and the only thing worse than Smoke was Smoke when he was high and needed to sleep it off.
"Pop-eye, " Smoke said with a cruel laugh as he pretended to inject Popeye with the syringe.
"Forget the fucking dog for a minute, " Possum said, faking the bad act he had gotten fairly good at.
"Don't you fucking tell me to fucking forget anything, you little retard, " Smoke said, pointing the needle at Possum as if he might just inject him instead of Popeye. "See, this is how Smoke makes assholes pay for their sins. Right when that bitch Hammer and her fuckhead sidekick Brazil come rushing up to the pit to save the stupid dog, I whip out this syringe and inject Popeye with rat poison right in front of them. While they're busy trying to save the dog, which will instantly go into convulsions and be in terrible pain, we shoot them in the head and run for the helicopter. "
The scenario was unspeakably horrible, but Possum played up to his name and had no reaction. In fact, he looked half asleep and inattentive to everything except the opportunity to seize the Tory Treasure before anyone else got it first.
"Or if one of them fishermen gets the treasure 'fore we show up after the race, " Possum said, "then we just wait for them back on the island and blow their brains out and dump their bodies in the bay and take the prize for ourselves. And Cat will already be there with everything set up, which is why he ain't here now, and we even got our own trooper working for us, too. Man, everything's phat, Smoke, " Possum bragged.
Regina felt everything was fat, too, but not in a good way, as she made her way down to the breakfast table later that morning. She had suffered another terrible night of tire dreams and was at last facing the truth: Andy's interpretation was right. Life was passing her by. She was disgustingly fat and had a rotten personality. For the first time in her life, Regina's conscience stirred and she felt a twinge of shame and regret.
"Good morning, " Pony said as Regina sullenly pulled out a chair and plopped down in it.
"Are you telling me it is or wishing it or just saying words that are meaningless?" Regina muttered, eyeing the steaming food Pony was setting on the table.
"Seems like a good morning to me, " Pony replied cheerfully. "I'm on my way to being a free man, Miss Reginia! Only thing is"--he served scrambled eggs and link sausage on a plate shining with the gold Commonwealth of Virginia seal--"turns out I been in prison three years longer than I was s'posed to be 'cause of that Mr. Trader. Seems he did some messing with certain officials 'cause he didn't want me let out. "
Regina stared at her food and realized with surprise that she wasn't hungry. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't been hungry, unless it was when she had been sped to the hospital after eating Trader's poisoned Toll House cookies. But her loss of appetite then had been transient and medically based and couldn't be related to her present condition.
"You aren't eating, Miss Reginia, " Pony worried, standing across the table from her in his stiff white jacket, a linen napkin draped over an arm.
"You shouldn't have been in prison, anyway, " Regina surprised herself by kindly saying. "I've never seen you do anything wrong and have never been afraid of you. "
"Why, thank you, Miss Reginia. " Pony smiled but was puzzled. He was unaccustomed to Regina's having any opinion about his welfare or even noticing that he might have a life of his own. "I 'preciate that, and I think I can help you with Trip. What it's looking like is, he only respond to one- or two-word commands. If you start trying to conversate with him, he gets confused and don't listen. "
Regina perked up a bit.
"How 'bout I write up a list of commands and maybe you can help out with him at the race tonight?" Pony suggested. "I been reading some of the papers the trainer left, and that little fella is quite the traveler. All you gotta do is put a diaper on him and you can stick him right in the limo or helichopper. My wife's down in the laundry room this very minute fixing a fancy blanket with the Comm'wealth of Virginia seal on it that he can wear under his harness. "
Regina's mood continued to improve, as if anger and depression had been a stationary front all of her life and suddenly the oppressive, solid layer of unhappiness was moving away. She thought of Andy and his lecturing her about showing compassion, and she rehearsed an empathic line or two in her head as Pony continued to tell her about Trip's being housebroken and how to put on his tennis shoes and that he liked to snuggle when he wasn't working.
"I'm glad Papa's straightening out your prison mess, " Regina repeated what she had rehearsed several times in her mind. "But I hope you'll still work for us, Pony, even if you don't have to anymore. "
Pony was startled and wondered if Regina had a fever. She did look a little pale this morning and wasn't touching her food, and it sure wasn't like her to be nice.
"I would like it a lot if you wrote down that list of commands for me. " Regina continued to baffle Pony with kindness. "Papa will need some help with Trip at the race, and I want to make sure I know everything I should. I'm glad Papa has a Seeing Eye horse. Maybe he won't need all those magnifying glasses anymore. "
Regina got up from the table and neatly folded her napkin as Pony looked at her as if she had magically turned into someone else.
"Thank you, Miss Reginia, " Pony said. "I'll make you that list and maybe show you a few things, if you want. "
"Thank you, Pony, " Regina said as she headed upstairs to her parents' master suite.
The First Lady was seated at her ornate Chinese desk, scrolling through something on the Internet, her attention rapt.
"Where's Papa?" Regina asked, pulling up a chair to see what her mother was so engrossed in.
"I believe he's in the garden with the pony, " Mrs. Crimm said, tapping the down arrow.
"We shouldn't refer to Trip as a pony, " Regina replied in an unusually thoughtful tone. "He's a minihorse, not a pony, and when Papa starts calling out pony this and pony that, Pony thinks he's talking to him and gets confused and it probably hurts his feelings, too. "
The First Lady gave Regina a perplexed glance and said, "Well, I suppose you're right. You seem in a strangely pleasant mood this morning. I don't believe I've ever seen you like this. Are you sick?"
"I don't know what's wrong, " Regina said, staring over her mother's shoulder at what appeared to be a new essay by Trooper Truth. "But I dreamed about tires again, Mama, and it started me thinking about what Andy said to me on the way to the morgue. Then I started thinking about the morgue, too, and wondering if I would have ended up there if I'd eaten any more of those cookies Major Trader tried to hurt Papa with. And suddenly I started feeling a little bit of hope. You know, I've never thought there was any hope. "
"Of course there's hope, dear, " Mrs. Crimm absently said as she wondered if those Tangier watermen would indeed find the Tory Treasure, which most certainly would include trivets from raided plantations--not that she assumed pirates used trivets, but they might have. Certainly, they cooked on their ships, and it would make sense to set a hot pot on a tr
ivet to prevent wooden surfaces in the galley from getting burned.
"How long do you suppose a trivet could be on the bottom of the bay before it would rust away?" she questioned out loud as she peered through antique wire-rimmed glasses that were attached to a long, gold chain. "You should read this. It's quite interesting, about an old piece of iron that most likely will lead to the Tory Treasure, and I'm assuming if a piece of iron would still be intact after hundreds of years of being under water, then why wouldn't a trivet fare just as well? Many of them are iron.
"But I must say, your papa's not going to be pleased when I read this to him. I can't imagine he won't insist that the Commonwealth is the rightful owner of the treasure. It doesn't matter who Wheelin' Bone stole it from. What right does North Carolina have to anything found in the Chesapeake Bay? What matters is that the treasure is here in Virginia and therefore belongs to Virginia, and therefore any trivets found should be given to the mansion. "
Regina got up to take a closer look at what her mother was reading. Although Regina had always been a strong advocate for finders-keepers, she wasn't so sure what she thought in this case. If the Islanders found the treasure and did whatever they wanted to with it, then the rest of the world would never have the pleasure of viewing old cannons and coins and jewels in the Virginia Museum.
"Those old cannons and jewels should be shared, " Regina said as two sets of sneakers accompanied by slippered feet sounded behind them.
"What?" the governor posed his usual question as he caught the tail end of Regina and Mrs. Crimm's conversation. "Go ahead and keep walking, " he said to Trip, who was already going ahead and didn't need to be told.
"Papa, I think he does better if you use fewer words, " Regina tried to help.
"Okay, " the governor considered, and the word okay released Trip from any commands and he came to a standstill near the First Lady's black-lacquered, mother-of-pearl-inlaid desk. "I didn't tell you to stop, but that's what I wanted you to do, " the governor chatted on to his minihorse and fondly rubbed his soft nose. "I think he understands far more than you might imagine, Regina. "
"He might, " she replied, "but what he understands and what you want him to do may be two different things. "
"I see. What's this about cannons and jewels that should be shared?" the governor inquired as he dipped into a robe pocket for his magnifying glass, because no matter how much help the guide horse might prove to be, it could not assist Crimm with reading.
Regina paraphrased Trooper Truth's essay and again offered her opinion that the treasure should not be squandered by whoever finds it, but should be shared with the public.
"As long as certain pieces would come to the mansion, " the First Lady was quick to add.
"Maybe a cannon or two in the garden and out front, " the governor considered, and his spleen was acting up a bit at the thought of that damnable state of North Carolina. "As awful as that pirate Wheland was, he's part of Virginia history, and I'll be damned if those watermen are going to get the treasure first and sell it to some antique dealer or, worse, to North Carolina. "
"Oh, Bedford, " Mrs. Crimm pleaded, "you must do something right away, before it's too late! Can't you send in an aircraft carrier or something, so those Tangier people don't haul all of the treasure away? They have no right to it!"
"No, they don't, " Regina agreed, and it was the first time she had not been in concert with what Trooper Truth had to say. "How weird, " she added. "Whose side is Trooper Truth on, anyway? He's always made sense in the past and been on the side of truth and justice. "
"He could very well be in collusion with Tangier Island and is trying to influence me to let them have the treasure, " said the governor, who was seeing matters far more clearly since he had stopped listening to Trader and eating his sweets. "I'll issue a press release immediately that warns all treasure hunters to stay clear of that crab pot with the yellow buoy, " the governor declared. "Let those fishermen just try to go near that sunken ship and think they're going to"--he patted Trip's neck--"load up. Right, little fella?"
Trip pulled away from his owner and headed toward the elevator and then took a right.
"Right!" Regina said, proud of her father's power and decisiveness, while Trip made another right and stopped before his reflection in a gilt Chippendale mirror.
"How far down do you think it is?" the First Lady pondered as she imagined chests of gold, family silver, and jewelry fit for a queen.
"Down?" Regina puzzled. "How far down what is?" she asked as Trip lay down in front of the mirror and continued to stare at himself, a bit puzzled.
"Based on the location in this Trooper Truth propaganda, " the governor replied, "I'd say the treasure's down pretty deep, because it's in the crab sanctuary, which is in a trough of the bay, if I'm not mistaken. "
"Well, that's good, " the First Lady said with relief. "The deeper the better, because it will make it all that much more difficult to find. I doubt those Tangier people have the proper gear to dive down and bring a big cannon to the surface. Why, it would sink one of their little boats. "
Within the hour, news of the Tory Treasure screamed over the wire and blared over televisions and radios throughout Virginia, the U. S., and in particular, bombarded North Carolina. Commentators speculated that the people of Tangier would be excited into a furious frenzy because of the governor's order that any waterman seen within five miles of the crab pot with its yellow buoy would be arrested by the Coast Guard, which had rushed to patrol that area of the bay. Treasure hunters and their vessels were on notice that they would be seized, the airspace between the Virginia coast and Tangier was restricted to all except authorized aircraft, and Naval vessels were preparing to form a blockade around the island.
Fonny Boy and Dr. Faux heard the news over the car radio after posting bond and leaving Richmond as quickly as possible. They sped toward Reedville, where the dentist intended to hop on the mailboat and bribe the captain to help them find the crab pot Fonny Boy had dropped in the water.
"The Coast Guard won't be suspicious of the mailboat, " the dentist reasoned as Fonny Boy stared tensely out the window, watching telephone poles fly by.
"That's poor! It ain't fittin'! The treasure, it's mine!" Fonny Boy said every other minute.
"We'll split it fifty-fifty, " Dr. Faux reminded him. "You owe me for bond and whatever I end up paying the mail-boat captain. We'll need gear, too, which will be expensive. There's a bait and tackle shop near where the mailboat docks, but we've got to hurry, and for God's sake, don't do anything to cause trouble, Fonny Boy. If the police know we've left Richmond, we'll be arrested again for jumping bail, and then the judge is really going to throw the book at us. "
"They wouldn't do nothing to us!" Fonny Boy's backward talk meant that if they got caught while finding the treasure, they were really in trouble this time.
"And if the mailboat gets seized, who cares?" Dr. Faux replied. "It doesn't belong to us. If questioned, we'll just blame everything on the captain and say that we boarded the boat to mail a few letters and dental bills back to the island, and next thing we knew, the boat was speeding toward the treasure before we had a chance to get off. "
"No!" Fonny Boy excitedly meant the opposite.
Major Trader and his cellmates learned the news, too, because one of the guards had a habit of wearing a Walkman with the sound turned up so loud prisoners could hear every tune, advertisement, and news release that leaked from his headset.
"Now listen here, " Trader said. "Instead of wasting all your time trying to drown me in the toilet, let's band together. If we can figure a way out of here, we can find that treasure first. "
"You think so?" Slim Jim asked with nagging doubt. "I mean, even if we could get outta here, how we gonna find that crab pot and then haul all the treasure outta the bottom of the bay?"
"I can't swim, " Snitch added.
"Uh uh, I never could swim, " Stick confessed.
"You don't have to swim, you idiots!" Trader i
mpatiently replied.
He had traded beds with the Mexican boy because if there was one thing Trader understood, it was office psychology. His maxim was fairly simple. If you wanted to feign friendship and sympathy, you sat the person you wished to manipulate in a nice living area with nothing between the two of you but a coffee table. If the objective was to intimidate, you sat at your desk, which became an imposing barrier between you and the individual you intended to terrorize. If you wished to confuse and humiliate, which had always been his preferred tactic with the governor, you poisoned the person with Ex-Lax and then insisted on having important discussions while walking through buildings or driving.
The Mexican boy's steel bed, as it turned out in the light of morning, was in the center of the cell. By appropriating it while he was using the toilet, Trader had gained the leadership role he wanted, although the other cellmates weren't sure why they suddenly viewed him with a bit more respect. Realizing the power of violent gastric attacks, Trader directed that when the guard was strolling past, on cue Reverend Justice would double over in agony and make loud moans and shrieks while the other cellmates gathered around him in a panic and screamed for help and shouted for everyone to give him air.
Cornwell, Patricia - Andy Brazil 03 - Isle Of Dogs.txt Page 40