When Sam got back to the hotel room, the others were mixing something in the blender, all wearing T-shirts from Captain Tony’s. Paige’s face had been painted by a street artist.
“Where the hell’d you go?” asked Maria.
“We thought you were taking a big dump or something,” said Rebecca. “But we couldn’t find you in the rest room.”
“I went for a walk.”
Teresa threw some more ice in the blender. “You missed all the fun.”
13
The pink Cadillac raced east out of Orlando on the Bee Line Highway.
Unfortunately it was in the westbound lanes.
Serge and Lenny screamed their lungs out as honking, swerving dump trucks and tractor-trailers passed by on both sides. All four of their hands tightly gripped the steering wheel, Serge pulling one way, Lenny the other.
Serge: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Lenny: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The stretch of highway was currently undergoing roadwork, and cement retaining walls on both sides of the highway prevented the Cadillac from escaping down the grassy shoulders. Pickup trucks and Harleys split and passed around them.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The Cadillac began weaving back and forth across all three lanes of highway, dodging head-on collisions. A minivan came straight at them; the Caddy veered left. Then a PT Cruiser; they swung right.
The construction zone ended and Serge pulled hard on the steering wheel, taking the Eldorado down into the median strip, bounding back up the far side and into the correct lanes. He gave the wheel back to Lenny, who put on his right blinker, slowed and pulled over in the breakdown lane. He and Serge stared at each other, both sheet-white, feeling their hearts pound through their chests like the coyote after the roadrunner almost runs him off a cliff.
“What happened?” said Lenny, taking shallow breaths.
“How much of it do you remember?”
Lenny shook his head.
“You don’t remember anything?”
He shook his head again.
“It all happened pretty fast…”
Ten minutes earlier.
Lenny stubbed out a joint in the Cadillac’s ashtray. “Are we there yet… hic…?”
“A half hour to the Atlantic Ocean, then we swoop down on the money,” said Serge, holding the global tracker in both hands like he was flying a model airplane. “We have a solid transponder lock now, which means we should be able to pinpoint the briefcase’s signal within a half meter. We’re ‘go’ all the way!”
“What do you plan to do with the money?… hic… Crap. These hiccups won’t go away… hic… Maybe if I smoke another joint and calm down… hic…” Lenny stuck a twistie in his mouth and fired up.
“You know, I actually thought of taking up drugs once,” said Serge.
“I thought you were against getting high… hic…”
“I wouldn’t do it to get high,” said Serge. “I just like the sneaking-around part. You have to gain the confidence of your connection, set up the meeting, make the buy, hide your shit, make preparations whom you’re going to do it with, where, how, all without detection. Sort of like being a secret agent.”
Lenny beamed proudly. “You mean like me?… hic…”
“Afraid not, Condor. It’s just a matter of time before you gift-wrap yourself for the police. You’re the guy who gets caught after triggering a twenty-car pileup on the freeway by simultaneously trying to shotgun a beer and fire up a six-foot Cambodian bamboo peace pipe.”
Serge opened a book.
“What are you reading?… hic…”
Serge showed him the cover of the book. Hypnosis Made Easy. “I got the idea from reading The Stingray Shuffle.”
“The what?”
“This novel by my favorite author. I first picked it up because it had a lot of stuff about Florida. And trains. Lots of trains. But it also had a bunch of hypnosis stuff, so I decided to research further.”
“What kind of a name is Stingray Shuffle, anyway?”
“You’ve never done the stingray shuffle?” asked Serge.
Lenny shook his head.
“When it’s stingray season in Florida during the summer, stingrays lie on the bottom of the water near the shore, under a thin blanket of sand, and you can’t see them. The stingrays would much rather flee than fight, but if you walk normally in the water and step on one, you pretty much pin it to the bottom and leave it no choice but to hit you in the leg with its poisonous tail barb.”
“That’ll wreck a buzz.”
“So instead of walking normally when you’re in shallow water, you shuffle your feet along. That way, if you accidentally come across a ray, you just bump it on the edge, and it spooks and swims away. It’s also a perfect metaphor for the on-your-toes, aware-of-your-surroundings, ready-to-jump-any-second dance you have to do every day in Florida to stay alive and ahead of the dangerous humans.”
Serge opened his hypnosis book again. Lenny leaned across the front seat and looked over his shoulder, trying to read along.
“Why are you reading about hypnosis?”
“Because I’m into it now. I’ve decided to completely dedicate my life to the study of hypnosis.”
“I thought you’d dedicated your life to trains.”
“Trains and hypnosis.”
“That’s an odd combination.”
“I’ve learned not to question my muse…” Serge pointed forward at the road. “Will you please?”
“What’s the book about?… hic…”
“I told you. Hypnosis.”
“…Hic… I know that from the cover.”
“That’s what it’s about. I can’t change it.”
“I mean, what specifically about it?… hic…”
“Well, there’s a story here about a hypnotist in Europe who killed a woman onstage in 1894 by commanding her soul to leave her body. She had a heart attack.”
“Oh… hic… right!”
“I wasn’t there, but that’s what it says…. Lenny, you can’t read over my shoulder and drive at the same time. Pick one.”
Lenny reluctantly returned to his side of the car and the approved ten-o’clock, two-o’clock steering-wheel grip.
“Okay, Mr. Skeptic,” said Serge. “Want to get rid of those hiccups?”
Lenny nodded. “Hic.”
Serge turned sideways in his seat and spoke in a monotone. “Concentrate on my voice.”
“What are you going to do?… hic…”
“Make your hiccups leave your body.”
“Not with my soul!… hic…”
“Good point. I’ll try to make sure I get the pronouns right in the incantation.”
“Don’t you need to swing a pocket watch… hic… or have me look at a pinwheel or something?”
“That’s bullshit. Besides, you’re challenged enough with just the road.”
“Hurry up,” said Lenny. “I hate hiccups… hic…”
“Focus on my voice. Relax. Take deeper and slower breaths. Hiccups cannot survive at low rates of respiration….”
“…Hic… I still have the hiccups.”
“Shhhh! Don’t listen to the hiccups…. Only my voice…. You will continue to relax, the interval between hiccups growing longer each time…. Each hiccup is one less until they’re gone for good…. Okay, I’m not talking to Lenny anymore. Hiccups, do you hear me? I’m talking to you now. I command you — in the name of Christ, leave Lenny’s body!”