“Sedans and pickup trucks. Flatbeds and semis. Buses of all kinds.”
“What are they doing?” Del said.
“Coming right at us, hauling timber.”
“Doing what?” Ginny made a face. “Damn it all, Del, will you stop the car? I swear, you’re a driving fool.”
Del stopped. Ginny climbed up with Possum to watch. The caravan kept a straight line. Cars and trucks weren’t exactly hauling timber… but they were. Each carried a section of a wall. Split logs bound together, sharpened at the top. The lead car turned and the others followed. The lead car turned again. In a moment, there was a wooden stockade assembled on the flats, square as if you’d drawn it with a rule. A stockade and a gate. Over the gate a wooden sign:
“I don’t like it,” said Possum Dark.
“You don’t like anything’s still alive,” Ginny said.
“They’ve got small arms and they’re a nervous-looking bunch.”
“They’re just horny, Possum. That’s the same as nervous, or close enough.”
Possum pretended to understand.
“Looks like they’re pulled up for the night,” she called to Del. “Let’s do some business, friend. The overhead don’t ever stop.”
Five of them came out to the van. They all looked alike. Stringy, darkened by the sun. Bare to the waist except for collars and striped ties. Each carried an attache case thin as two slices of bread without butter. Two had pistols stuck in their belts. The leader carried a fine-looking sawed-off Remington 12. It hung by a camou guitar strap to his waist. Del didn’t like him at all. He had perfect white teeth and a bald head. Eyes the colour of jellyfish melting on the beach. He studied the sign on the van and looked at Del.
“You got a whore inside or not?”
Del looked him straight on. “I’m a little displeased at that. It’s not the way to talk.”
“Hey.” The man gave Del a wink. “You don’t have to give us the pitch. We’re show business folk ourselves.”
“Is that right?”
“Wheels of chance and honest cards. Odds I know you’ll like. I’m head actuary of this bunch. Name’s Fred. That animal up there has a piss-poor attitude, friend. No reason to poke that weapon down my throat. We’re friendly people here.”
“No reason I can see why Possum’d spray this place with lead and diarrhetics,” Del said. “Less you can think of something I can’t.”
Fred smiled at that. The sun made a big gold ball on his head. “I guess we’ll try your girl,” he told Del. “’Course we got to see her first. What do you take in trade?”
“Goods as fine as what you’re getting in return.”
“I’ve got just the thing.” The head actuary winked again. The gesture was starting to irritate Del. Fred nodded, and a friend drew clean white paper from his case. “This here is heavy bond,” he told Del, shuffling the edges with his thumb. “Fifty percent linen weave, and we got it by the ream. Won’t find anything like it. You can mark on it good or trade it off. Seventh Mercenary Writers came through a week ago. Whole brigade of mounted horse. Near cleaned us out, but we can spare a few reams. We got pencils too. Mirado twos and threes, unsharpened, with erasers on the end. When’s the last time you saw that? Why, this stuff’s good as gold. We got staples and legal pads. Claim forms, maim forms, forms of every sort. Deals on wheels is what we got. And you got gas under wraps in the wagon behind your van. I can smell it plain from here. Friend, we can sure talk some business with you there. I got seventeen rusty-ass guzzlers runnin’ dry.”
A gnat-whisker wire sparked hot in Dels head. He could see it in the underwriter’s eyes. Gasoline greed was what it was, and he knew these men were bent on more than fleshly pleasure. He knew with androidial dread that when they could, they’d make their play.
“Well now, the gas is not for trade,” he said as calmly as he could. “Sex and tacos and dangerous drugs is what we sell.”
“No problem,” the actuary said. “Why, no problem at all. Just an idea, is all it was. You get that little gal out here and I’ll bring in my crew. How’s half a ream a man sound to you?”
“Just as fair as it can be,” Del said, thinking that half of that would’ve been fine, knowing dead certain now that Fred intended to take back whatever he gave.
“That Moro fellow was right,” Del said. “These insurance boys are bad news. Best thing we can do is take off and let it go.”
“Pooh,” said Ginny, “that’s just the way men are. They come in mad as foamin’ dogs and go away like cats licking cream. That’s the nature of the fornicatin’ trade. You wait and see. Besides, they won’t get funny with Possum Dark.”
“You wouldn’t pray for rain if you were afire,” Del muttered. “Well, I’m not unhitching the gas. I’ll set you up a stage over the tarp. You can do your number there.”
“Suit yourself,” Ginny said, kissing a plastic cheek and scooting him out the door. “Now get on out of here and let me start getting cute.”
It seemed to be going well. Cheerleader Barbara Jean awoke forgotten wet dreams, left their mouths as dry as snakes. Set them up for Sally the Teach and Nora Nurse, secret violations of the soul. Maybe Ginny was right, Del decided. Faced with girlie delights, a man’s normally shitty outlook disappeared. When he was done, he didn’t want to wreck a thing for an hour or maybe two. Didn’t care about killing for half a day. Del could only guess at this magic and how it worked. Data was one thing, sweet encounters something else.
He caught Possum’s eye and felt secure. Forty-eight men waited their turns. Possum knew the calibre of their arms, the length of every blade. His black twin-fifties blessed them all.
Fred the actuary sidled up and grinned at Del. “We sure ought to talk about gas. That’s what we ought to do.”
“Look,” Del said, “gas isn’t for trade, I told you that. Go talk to those boys at the refinery, same as us.”
“Tried to. They got no use for office supplies.”
“That’s not my problem,” Del said.
“Maybe it is.”
Del didn’t miss the razor tones. “You got something to say, just say it.”
“Half of your gas. We pay our way with the girl and don’t give you any trouble.”
“You forget about him?”
Fred studied Possum Dark. “I can afford losses better than you. Listen, I know what you are, friend. I know you’re not a man. Had a CPA droid just like you Tore the War.”
“Maybe we can talk,” Del said, trying to figure what to do. “Say now, that’s what I like to hear.”
Ginny’s fourth customer staggered out, wild-eyed and white around the gills. “Goddamn, try the Nurse,” he bawled to the others. “Never had nothin’ like it in my life!”
“Next,” Del said, and started stacking bond paper. “Lust is the name of the game, gents, what did I tell you now?”
“The girl plastic, too?” Fred asked.
“Real as you,” Del said. “We make some kind of deal, how do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“Jesus,” Fred said, “what do you think I am? You got my Life Underwriter’s Oath!”
The next customer exploded through the curtain, tripped and fell on his face. Picked himself up and shook his head. He looked damaged, bleeding around the eyes.
“She’s a tiger,” Del announced, wondering what the hell was going on. “’Scuse me a minute,” he told Fred, and slipped inside the van. “Just what are you doing in here?” he asked Ginny. “Those boys look like they been through a thrasher.”
“Beats me,” Ginny said, halfway between Nora and Barbara Jean. “Last old boy jerked around like a snake
