璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第150部分

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ross　Archie‘s　face；　and　Kelly　could　see　the　pusher‘s　eyes　open　wide　in　horror　and　surprise；　like　little　lights　in　the　darkness。　Archie　had　not　expected　that。　Jughead　hadn‘t　seemed　much　of　a　conversationalist　anyway；　and　the　operation‘s　clock　was　ticking。　
‘I　said　please；　didn‘t　I？‘
‘Sweet　Jesus；　man！‘　the　voice　rasped；　knowing　that　to　make　any　more　noise　would　be　death。
‘Billy。　Red　Plymouth　Roadrunner；　loves　to　show　it　off。　He‘s　a　distributor。　I　want　to　know　where　he　hangs　out；‘　Kelly　said　quietly。　
‘If　I　tell　you　that　…‘
‘You　get　a　new　supplier。　Me；‘　Kelly　said。　‘And　if　you　tell　Billy　that　I‘m　out　here；　you‘ll　get　to　see　your　friend　again；‘　he　added；　gesturing　to　the　body　whose　warm　bulk　pressed　limply　against　Archie‘s　side。　He　had　to　offer　the　man　hope；　after　all。　Maybe　even　a　little　left…handed　truth；　Kelly　thought：　‘Do　you　understand？　Billy　and　his　friends　have　been　screwing　around　with　the　wrong　people；　and　it‘s　my　job　to　straighten　things　out。　Sorry　about　your　friend；　but　I　had　to　show　you　that　I‘m　serious；　like。‘
Archie‘s　voice　tried　to　calm　itself；　but　didn‘t　quite　make　it；　though　he　reached　for　the　hope　he‘d　been　offered。　‘Look；　man；　I　can‘t　…‘
‘I　can　always　ask　somebody　else。‘　Kelly　paused　significantly。　‘Do　you　understand　what　I　just　said？‘
Archie　did；　or　thought　he　did；　and　he　talked　freely　until　the　time　came　for　him　to　rejoin　Jughead。
A　quick　search　of　Archie‘s　pockets　turned　up　a　nice　wad　of　cash　and　a　collection　of　small　drug　envelopes　which　also　found　their　way　into　his　jacket　pockets。　Kelly　stepped　carefully　over　both　bodies　and　made　his　way　to　the　alley；　looking　back　to　make　sure　that　he　hadn‘t　stepped　in　any　blood。　He‘d　discard　the　shoes　in　any　case。　Kelly　untied　the　string　from　the　cans　and　replaced　them　where　he‘d　found　them；　before　renewing　his　drunken　gait；　taking　a　roundabout　path　back　to　his　car；　repeating　his　carefully　considered　routine　every　step　of　the　way。　Thank　God；　he　thought；　driving　north　again；　he‘d　be　able　to　shower　and　shave　tonight。　But　what　the　hell　would　he　do　with　the　drugs？　That　was　a　question　that　fate　would　answer。
*　*　*
The　cars　started　arriving　just　after　six；　not　so　incongruous　an　hour　for　activity　on　a　military　base。　Fifteen　of　them；　clunkers；　none　less　than　three　years　old；　and　all　of　them　had　been　totaled　in　auto　accidents　and　sold　for　scrap。　The　only　thing　unusual　about　them　was　that　though　they　were　no　longer　drivable；　they　almost　looked　as　though　they　were。　The　work　detail　was　posed　of　Marines；　supervised　by　a　gunnery　sergeant　who　had　no　idea　what　this　was　all　about。　But　he　didn‘t　have　to。　The　cars　were　worked　into　place；　haphazardly；　not　in　neat　military　rows；　but　more　the　way　real　people　parked。　The　job　took　niy　minutes；　and　the　work　detail　left。　At　eight　in　the　morning　another　such　detail　arrived；　this　one　with　mannequins。　They　came　in　several　sizes；　and　they　were　dressed　in　old　clothes。　The　child…size　ones　went　on　the　swings　and　in　the　sandbox。　The　adult　ones　were　stood　up；　using　the　metal　stands　that　came　with　them。　And　the　second　work　party　left；　to　return　twice　a　day　for　the　indefinite　future　and　move　the　mannequins　around　in　a　random　way　prescribed　by　a　set　of　instructions　thought　up　and　written　down　by　some　damned　fool　of　an　officer　who　didn‘t　have　anything　better　to　do。
Kelly‘s　notes　had　mented　on　the　fact　that　one　of　the　most　debilitating　and　time…consuming　aspects　of　Operation　KINGPIN　had　been　the　daily　necessity　of　setting　up　and　striking　down　the　mockup　of　their　objective。　He　hadn‘t　been　the　first　to　note　it。　If　any　Soviet　reconnaissance　satellites　took　note　of　this　place；　they　would　see　an　odd　collection　of　buildings　serving　no　readily　identifiable　purpose。　They　would　also　see　a　child‘s　playground；　plete　with　children；　parents；　and　parked　cars；　all　of　which　elements　would　move　every　day。　That　bit　of　information　would　counter　the　more　obvious　observation　…　that　this　recreational　facility　was　half　a　mile　off　any　paved　road　and　invisible　to　the　rest　of　the　installation。