Part 17 (1/2)
”Then don't say anything, you understand?” Bud Schwartz got out the money that Molly had given them to buy the admission tickets. He counted out thirty-six dollars and handed the cash to his partner.
”Just hold up one finger, that's all you gotta do,” said Bud Schwartz. ”One finger means one ticket. Don't say a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing.”
”All right,” Danny Pogue said. ”Man, I can't believe the whale croaked, can you?”
”Shut up,” said Bud Schwartz. ”I'm not kidding.”
Danny Pogue didn't seem the least bit nervous about returning to the scene of their crime. To him the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills was a terrific place, and he strutted around with a permanent grin. Bud Schwartz thought: He's worse than these d.a.m.n kids.
Outside the Magic Mansion, Danny Pogue stopped to shake hands with Petey Possum. A tourist lady from Atlanta took a photograph, and Danny Pogue begged her to send him a copy. At this point Bud Schwartz considered ditching the dumb s.h.i.+t altogether and pulling the job alone.
Golf duds and all, Bud Schwartz was antsy about being back on the premises so soon after” the rat-napping; it went against his long-standing aversion to dumb risk. He wanted to hurry up and get the h.e.l.l out.
It wasn't easy locating Francis X. Kingsbury's office because it didn't appear on any of the colorful maps or diagrams posted throughout the amus.e.m.e.nt park. Bud Schwartz and Danny Pogue checked closely; there was the Cimarron Trail Ride, Orky's Undersea Paradise, the Wet w.i.l.l.y, the Jungle Jerry Amazon Boat Cruise, Bigfoot Mountain, Excitement Boulevard, and so on, with no mention of the administration building. Bud Schwartz decided Kingsbury's headquarters must be somewhere in the geographic center of the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills, and for security reasons probably wasn't marked.
”Why don't we ask somebody?” Danny Pogue suggested.
”Very smart,” said Bud Schwartz. ”I got a better idea. Why don't we just paint the word 'thief' in big red letters on our G.o.dd.a.m.n foreheads?”
Danny Pogue wasn't sure why his partner was in such a lousy mood. The Kingdom was awesome, fantastic, sensational. Everywhere they went, elves and fairy princesses and happy animal characters waved or shook hands or gave a hug.
”I never seen so much friendliness,” he remarked.
”It's the crutch,” said Bud Schwartz.
”No way.”
”It's the d.a.m.n crutch, I'm tellin' you. They're only being nice because they got to, Danny. Anytime there's a customer on crutches, they make a special point. You know, in case he's dying a some fatal disease.”
Danny Pogue said, ”You go to h.e.l.l.”
”Ten bucks says it's right in the training manual.”
”Bud, I swear to G.o.d.”
”Gimme the crutch and I'll prove it.”
Danny Pogue said, ”You're the one's always on my a.s.s about att.i.tude. And now just listen to yourselfa”all because people're actin' nice to me and not to you.”
”That's not it,” said Bud Schwartz, but when he turned around his partner was gone. He found him on line at the Wild Bill Hiccup rodeo ride; Danny Pogue had stashed his crutch in the men's room and was determined to give Wild Bill Hiccup a go. Bud Schwartz was tired of bickering.
The ride was set up in an indoor corral that had been laboriously fabricated, from the brown-dyed dirt to the balsa fence posts to the polyethylene cows.h.i.+t that lay in neat regular mounds, free of flies. Twenty-five mechanical bulls (only the horns were real) jumped and bucked on hidden tracks while a phony rodeo announcer described the action through a realistically tinny megaphone.
During this particular session, the twenty-five bulls were mounted by twenty-three tourists and two professional crooks. Before the ride began, Bud Schwartz leaned over to Danny Pogue and told him to be sure and fall off.
”What?”
”You heard me. And make it look good.”
When the bell rang, Bud Schwartz hung on with his good hand and bounced back and forth for maybe a minute without feeling anything close to excitement. Danny Pogue, however, was launched almost instantly from the sponge hump of his motorized Brahmaa”a tumble so spectacular that it brought three Company Cowpokes out of the bronco chute at a dead run. They surrounded Danny Pogue, measured his blood pressure, palpated his ribs and abdomen, listened to his heart, s.h.i.+ned a light in his eyeb.a.l.l.s and finally shoved a piece of paper under his nose.
”Why don't you put your name on this, li'l pardner?” said one of the Cowpokes.
Danny Pogue examined the doc.u.ment, shook his head and handed it to Bud Schwartz for interpretation.
”Release of liability,” Bud Schwartz said. He looked up with a dry smile. ”This means we can't sue, right?”
”Naw,” said the solicitous Cowpoke. ”All it means is your buddy's not hurt.”
”Says who?” said Bud Schwartz. ”Bunch a dumb cowboy s.h.i.+t-kickers. Thanks, but I think we'll try our luck with an actual doctor.”
The Cowpokes didn't look so amiable anymore, or so Western. In fact, they were starting to look like p.i.s.sed-off Miami insurance men. Danny Pogue got to his feet, dusted off his b.u.t.t and said, ”h.e.l.l, Bud, it's my fault anyhowa””
”Not another word.” Bud Schwartz seized his partner by the elbow, as if to prop him up. Then he announced to the Cowpokes: ”We'd like to file a complaint about this ride. Where exactly is the administration office?”
The Cowpoke in charge of the blood-pressure cuff said, ”It's closed today.”
”Then we'll come back Monday,” said Bud Schwartz. ”Where is the office, please?”
”Over Sally's Saloon,” the Cowpoke answered. ”Upstairs, ask for Mr. Dexter in Risk Management.”
”And he'll be in Monday?”
”Nine sharp,” muttered the Cowpoke.
The other tourists watched curiously as Bud Schwartz led Danny Pogue haltingly out of the corral. By this time the Wild Bill Hiccup attraction had come to a complete and embarra.s.sing stop (a man with a sprocket wrench had beheaded Danny Pogue's bull), and Bud Schwartz wanted to depart the arena before his partner spoiled the plan by saying something irretrievably stupid.
Into Danny Pogue's ear he said, ”You're doing fine.”
”It wasn't on purpose.”
”Yeah, I had a feeling.”
As they watched Danny Pogue's genuine hobble, the three Cowpokes from Risk Management began to worry that they might have missed something during their quickie medical exam.
One of them called out: ”Hey, how about a wheelchair?”
Without turning around, Bud Schwartz declined the offer with the wave of an arm.
”No thanks, li'l pardner,” he called back.
The same tool that picked the lock on Francis X. Kingsbury's office did the job on the rosewood file cabinet.
”So now what?” Danny Pogue said.
”We read.” Bud Schwartz divided the files into two stacks. He showed his partner how to save time by checking the index labels.