The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(94)

Western sipped his beer.

Our friend is silent, Brat. What are your thoughts?

Brat shook his head. None. I enjoy these exchanges too much. Please proceed.

Sheddan took a draw on the cigar and studied the light gray and perfect ash. I’ll take that back if you like.

Western smiled. No no. Fair is fair.

You concur then.

No. Of course not.

No it is then. But in contemplating your situation I keep arriving at new puzzles.

Such as?

I dont know. Such as why is your best friend a moral imbecile. For instance.

Maybe he’s not my best friend.

No? What’s this, Squire? You surprise me.

I’m disencumbering myself, John. My plans are to travel light.

Where are you traveling to?

Dont know.

You’re scaring me. Are you leaving the country?

Probably.

Abandoning the deep?

Maybe.

You’re nothing if not circumspect. What do you propose to use for funds? If I might inquire.

I’m working on it.

I can only assume that fresh demons have materialized out of your troubled karma.

Western smiled. He drained the last of his beer.

Otra cerveza, Squire.

No thank you John. I have to go.

We’re dining at Arnaud’s. You should join us.

Another time.

You look a bit preoccupied, truth be told.

I’m all right.

You know you might consider a brief stint in the laughing academy yourself. In my own case I found it salutary. Take a break. It seems to be the case as well that if you check yourself in—as opposed to being committed—you enjoy certain privileges. Such as checking yourself out again.

I’ll keep that in mind.

It’s improved my outlook, Squire. No question. What I found that surprised me was that the unbalanced enjoy a certain largesse of personal freedom increasingly abridged in the workaday world.

Western rose. Thanks John. I’ll give it my deepest consideration. Brat. Good to see you.

And you, Bobby.

Sheddan watched him out of sight down Bourbon Street. He took a pull at his cigar. What do you think, Brat? Do you think he took me seriously?

No. Do you?

I dont know. But he should have.





He worked in a dive shop in Tucson that was run by a friend of Jimmy Anderson’s where they paid him off the books. He lived in a rented room and cooked over a hotplate and when he left he had a secondhand pickup truck and a few thousand dollars. In New Orleans he went to see Kline.

What if I did just disappear?

I thought we’d been over that.

How likely is it they would find me?

Kline tapped the eraser of his pencil against his teeth. He looked at Western. That would depend on who they is. We still dont know what this is about. Is your car still sitting in the locker?

No. When the rent came due they hauled it off.

If you had some serious scratch salted away you could just head out for the territories. You dont.

Even with a new identity I suppose you cant use credit cards. Or bank accounts.

It can be done.

You told me one time that it was almost impossible to fake a death.

That’s been my experience. Of course you only hear from the failures. And they’re usually defrauding insurance companies for fairly good sums of money so there’s a lot riding on it.

If I went to Mexico City could I fly out of the country?

Do you still have your passport?

Yes.

Is it current?

Yes. Just not with the State Department.

I think you’d be okay. But I’ll tell you right now. Being broke and friendless in a foreign country is no picnic. And that passport is going to expire eventually.

True.

Anyway, if you think this is just about some delinquent taxes then I would have to say that if they only wanted some money from you they’d probably just send out a couple of chaps to turn you upside down and shake you and see what falls out. It’s five oclock.

I know. I’ll let you go.

Why dont we go have a drink.

All right.

They sat at the bar at Tujague’s. Western turned his glass slowly on the antique wood. Kline watched him.

You’re just fucking around, Western. Probably not a good plan.

I know. I was just thinking that I dont even know what a country is.

Not an easy question.

It seems to be mostly an idea.

Kline shrugged.

You would really have to become someone else, wouldnt you?

Yes.

You just have to make up your mind.

Not so easily done.

No.

Some people cling to the wreckage forever.

I might surprise you.

You might. But I think the ability to evaluate danger in the face of it is largely genetic. If you have it it’s been a long time coming and if you dont have it it’s not likely to get here anytime soon. It’s fairly common among athletes. And psychopaths. Any number of wanted felons have been taken into custody at their mother’s funeral. What they all have in common is that they love their mother. What the other chaps have in common is that they dont want to go to jail.

You dont think I’d make a good fugitive.

No. But as you say, you might surprise me.

Western smiled. He picked up his glass. Salud.