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〃You think I'm a Polack？〃 he screamed。 〃You dirty gold bricker！ You're all shit！ You don't represent this country。〃
〃Christ； let's hope to hell you don't。〃 Bruce Mmuttered。 ____ was still raving as they muscled him out to the street。
T^he nest noght； in another restaurant； the Astronaut was scarfing his chow…stone soer…when a fourteen year old boy approached the table to ask for an autograph。 ____ acted coy moment； feigning embarrassment； then he scrawled his signature on the small piece of paper the boy handed him。 The boy looked at it for a moment； then tore it into small pieces and dropped it in …____'s lap。 〃Not everybody loves you； man。〃 he said。 Then he went back and sat down at his own table about six feet away。
The Astronaut's party was speechiess。 Eight or ten people…wives； managers and favored senior engineers； showing a good time in fabulous Aspen。 Now they looked like somebody had just sprayed their table with shit…mist。 Nobody a word。 They ate quickly； and left without tipping。
So much for Aspen and astronauts。 _____ would never have kind of trouble in LasVegas。
A little bit of this town goes a very long way。 After five in Vegas you feel like you've been here for five years。 Some people say they like it…but then some people like Nixon； too。 He would have made a perfect Mayor for this town； with John Mitchell as Sheriff and Agnew as Master of Sewers。
13。 End of the Road 。。。Death of the Whale。。。Soaking Sweats in the Airport。
When I tried to sit down at the baccarat table the bouncers the arm on me。 〃You don't belong here；〃 one of them said quietly。 〃Let's go outside。〃
〃Why not？〃 I said。
They took me out to the front entrance and signaled for the Whale to be brought up。
〃Where's your friend？〃 they asked； while we waited。
'What friend？〃 'The big spic。〃
〃Look；〃 I said。 〃I'm a Doctor of Journalism。 You'd never me hanging around this place with a goddamn spic。〃 They。 laughed。 〃Then what about this？〃 they said。 And they confronted me with a big photograph of me and my attorney at a table in the floating bar。
I srugged。 〃That's not me；〃 I said。 〃That's a guy named Thompson。 He works for Rolling Stone。。。a really vicious； crazy kind of person。 And that guy sitting next to him is a hit man for the Mafia in Hollywood。 Shit； have you studied this photograph？ What kind of a maniac would roam around wearing one black glove。〃
〃We noticed that。〃 They said。 〃Where is he now？〃 I shrugged。 〃He moves around pretty fast。 〃 I said。 His oerders e out of St。 Loius。〃 They stared at me。 〃How do you know all this stuff？〃 I showed them my gold PBA badge； flashing it quickly with my back to the crowd。 〃Act natural；〃 I whispered。 〃Don't put me on the spot。〃 They were still standing there when I drove off in the Whale。 The geek had brought it up at exactly the right moment。 I gave him a five…dollar bill and hit the street with a stylish screech of rubber。
It was all ovet now。 I drove across to the Flamingo and loaded all my luggage into the car。 I tried to put the top up； for privacy； but something was wrong with the motor。 The generator light had been on； fiery red； ever since I'd driven the thing into Lake Mead on a water test。 A quick run along the dashboard disclosed that every circuit in the car was to tally fucked。 Nothing worked。 Not even the headlights…and when I hit the air conditioner button I heard a nasty explosion under the hood。
The top was jammed about halfway up； but I decided to try for the airport。 If this goddamn junker wouldn't run right； I could always abandon it and call a cab。 To hell with this gar bage from Detroit。 They shouldn't be allowed to get away with it。
The sun was ing up when I got to the airport。 I left the Whale in the VIP parking lot。 A kid about fifteen years old checked it in； but I refused to answer his questions。 He was very excited about the overall condition of the vehicle。 〃Holy God！〃 he kept shouting。 〃How did this happen？〃 He kept moving around the car； pointing at various dents； rips and crushed places。
〃I know；〃 I said。 〃They beat the shit out of it。 This is a ter rible goddamn town for driving around in convertibles。 The worst time was right out on the Boulevard in front of the Sahara。 You know that corner where all the junkies hang out？ Jesus； I couldn't believe it when they all went crazy at once。〃 The kid was none too bright。 His face had gone blank early on； and now heseemed in a state of mute fear。
〃Don't worry；〃 I said。 〃I'm insured。〃 I showed him the contract； pointin to the small…print clause where it said I was insured against ALL damages； for only two dollars a day。
The kid was still nodding when I fled。 I felt a bit guilty about leaving him to deal with the car。 There was no way explain the massive damage。 It was finished； a wreck； totaled out。 Under normal circumstances I would have been seized and arrested when l tried to turn it in。。。but not at this of the morning； with only this kid to deal with。 I was； all； a 〃VIP。〃 Otherwise； they would never have chartered the car to me in the first place。。。。。
Let the chickens e home to roost； I thought as I hurried into the airport。 It was still too early to act normal； so I hunkered down in the coffee shop behind the LA。 Times。 Some where down the corridor a jukebox was playing 〃One Toke Over the Line。〃 I listened for a moment； but my nerve ends no longer receptive。 The only song I might have been to relate to； at that point； was 〃Mister Tambourine 。〃 Or maybe 〃Memphis Blues Again。。。〃Aww； mama。。 。 can this really。。。 be the end。。。？〃 My plane left at eight； which meant I had two hours to kill。 Feeling desperately visible。 There was no doubt in my mind they were looking for me； the net was closing down。。。only a matter of time before they ran me down like some kind of rabid animal。
I checked all my luggage through the chute。 All but the satchel； which was full of drugs。 And the 。357。 Did they have the goddamn metal detector system in this airport？ I strolled around to the boarding gate and tried to look casual while I cased the area for black boxes。 None were visible。 I to take the chance…just zip through the gate with a big smile on my face； mumbling distractedly about 〃a bad slump in the hardware market。 。。
Just another failed salesman checking out。 Blame it all on that bastard Nixon。 Indeed。 I decided it might look more natural if I found somebody to chat with…a routine line of small talk； between passengers： 〃Hy're yew； fella！ I huess you're probably wonderin' what make sme sweat like this？ Yeah！ Well； god damn； man！ Have you read the newspapers today？。。。You'd never believe what those dirty bastards have doen this time！〃 I figured that would cover it。。。But I could'nt find anybody who looked safe enough to talk to。 The whole airport was full of people who looked like they might go for my float ing rib if I made a false move。 I felt very paranoid。。。like some kind of criminal skullsucker on the lam from Scotland Yard。
Everywhere I looked I saw Pigs。。。because on that morn ing the Las Vegas airport was full of cops： the mass exodus after the climax of the District Attorneys' Conference。 When I finally put this together I felt much better about the health of my own brain
EVERYTHING seems to be ready。
Are you Ready？
Ready？
Well； why not？ This is a heavy day in Vegas。 A thousand cops are checking out of town； scurrying through the airport in groups of three and six。 They are heading back home。 The drug conference is finished。 The Airport Lounge is humming with mean talk and bodies。 Short beers and Bloody Marys； here and there a victim of chest rash rubbing Mexsana under the armpit straps of a thick shoulder holster。 No point hiding this business any longer。 Let it all hang out。。。or at least get some air to it。
Yes； thank you kindly。 。 I think I busted a button on my trousers。 I hope they don't fall down。 You don't want my trousers to fall down now； do you？
Fuck no。 Not today。 N ot right here in the middle of the Las Vegas airport； on this sweaty …hard morning at the tail end of this mass meeting on the Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs。
〃When the train。。e in the station。。。I looked her in the eye。。。 〃 Grim music in the airport。 〃Yes； it's hard to tell it''s hard to tell； when all your love's in Vain。。。〃
Every now and then you run up on one of those days when everythings in vain 。 。 。 a stone bummer from start to finish； if you know what's good for you； on days like these you sortof hunker down in a safe corner and watch。 Maybe think a bit。 Lay back on a cheap wooden chair； screened off from traffic； and shrewdly rip the poptops out of five or eight Budweisers。。。smoke off a pack of King Marlboros； eat a nut…butter sandwich； and finally toward evening gobble a wad of good mescaline 。 。。 then drive out； later on； to the beach。 Get out in the surf； in the fog； and slosh along on numb…frozen feet about ten yards out from the tideline。。。 stomping through tribes of wild sandpeckers。。。riderunners； whorehoppers； stupid little birds and crabs and saltsuckershere and there a big pervert or woolly reject gimp off in the distance； wandering alone by themselves behind dunes and driftwood。。。。
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