The Big Sleep

Chapter 27

27
“Give me the money.”	— Dajte mi novac.
The motor of the gray Plymouth throbbed under her voice and the rain pounded above it. The violet light at the top of Bullock’s green-tinged tower was far above us, serene and withdrawn from the dark, dripping city. Her black-gloved hand reached out and I put the bills in it. She bent over to count them under the dim light of the dash. A bag clicked open, clicked shut. She let a spent breath die on her lips. She leaned towards me.	Motor joj je sivog plvmoutha pulsirao ispod glasa, a kiša je mlatila iznad njega. Visoko iznad nas bilo je ljubičasto svjetlo na vrhu Bullockovog zeleno obojenog tornja, vedro i povučeno od mračnoga grada s kojeg se cijedila voda. Agnezina je ruka u crnim rukavicama izvirila napolje, i ja sam u nju stavio novčanice. Pognula se da ih izbroji pod sumračnim svjetlom komandne ploče. Torbica je škljocnula otvarajući se. Pustila je da joj izdah zamre na usnama. Nagnula se prema meni.
“I’m leaving, copper. I’m on my way. This is a getaway stake and God how I need it. What happened to Harry?”	— Odoh ja, čaj kane. Već putujem. To je lovanac za brisanac, i sam bog zna koliko mi je trebao. Što je bilo s Harrvjem?
“I told you he ran away. Canino got wise to him somehow. Forget Harry. I’ve paid and I want my information.”	— Rek'o sam vam da je pobjegao. Canino se zbog nečeg raspigao na nj. Zaboravite Harrvja. Platio sam i sad želim svoju informaciju.
“You’ll get it. Joe and I were out riding Foothill Boulevard Sunday before last. It was late and the lights coming up and the usual mess of cars. We passed a brown coupe and I saw the girl who was driving it. There was a man beside her, a dark short man. The girl was a blonde. I’d seen her before. She was Eddie Mars’ wife. The guy was Canino. You wouldn’t forget either of them, if you ever saw them. Joe tailed the coupe from in front. He was good at that.	— Dobit ćete je. Joe i ja bili smo vani vozeći se bulevarom Foothill pretprošle nedjelje. Bilo je kasno, svjetla su se palila, i uobičajena gužva automobila. Prošli smo pokraj smeđeg kupea, ugledala sam žensku koja ga je vozila. Neki je muškarac bio kraj nje, crni niski muškarac. Ženska je bila plava. Vidjela sam je ranije. Žena Eddija Marsa. Tip je bio Canino. Tko ih jednom vidi, ne može ih zaboraviti. Joe ih je pratio od naprijed. Bio je u tome dobar.
Canino, the watchdog, was taking her out for air. A mile or so east of Realito a road turns towards the foothills. That’s orange country to the south but to the north it’s as bare as hell’s back yard and smack up against the hills there’s a cyanide plant where they make the stuff for fumigation. Just off the highway there’s a small garage and paint shop run by a guy named Art Huck. Hot car drop, likely. There’s a frame house beyond this, and beyond the house nothing but the foothills and the bare stone outcrop and the cyanide plant a couple of miles on. That’s the place where she’s holed up. They turned off on this road and Joe swung around and went back and we saw the car turn off the road where the frame house was. We sat there half an hour looking through the cars going by. Nobody came back out. When it was quite dark Joe sneaked up there and took a look. He said there were lights in the house and a radio was going and just the one car out in front, the coupe. So we beat it.”	Canino, pas čuvar, izveo ju je na zrak. Milju ili tako nešto istočno od Realita, cesta je skrenula prema obroncima. Taj je kraj pun naranača prema jugu, no prema sjeveru je gol kao so-tonino stražnje dvorište, a dlaku uzbrdo ima tvornica ci- janida gdje prave tu stvar za raskuživanje. Tik pokraj auto--cestarje mala garaža i lakirnica koju vodi neki tip imenom Art Huck. Rupa za popaljena kolica, lako moguće. Iza toga je drvenjara, a iza kuće ništa osim obronaka i golog kamenjara i te tvornice cijanida nekoliko kilometara dalje. To je mjesto gdje su je zaključali. Skrenuli su na tu cestu, i Joe je zavio okolo i vratio se, i vidio auto kako skreće s ceste gdje je ta drvenjara. Stajali smo tamo pola sata i gledali kroz automobile što su prolazili. Nitko se nije vratio. Kad je bilo sasvim mračno, Joe se odšunjao i bacio pogled. Rekao je da je u kući bilo svjetlo, da je svirao radio, i da su samo jedna kola bila pred njom, taj kupe. Onda smo zbrisali.
She stopped talking and I listened to the swish of tires on Wilshire. I said: “They might have shifted quarters since then but that’s what you have to sell—that’s what you have to sell. Sure you knew her?”	Prestala je govoriti, a ja sam osluškivao vrebajući na fijuk guma sa Wilshirea. Rekoh: — Mogli su od tada promijeniti stanište, no to je ono što imate na prodaju ... što morate prodati. Sigurni ste da ste je prepoznali?
“If you ever see her, you won’t make a mistake the second time. Goodbye, copper, and wish me luck. I got a raw deal.”	— Da ste je ikada vidjeli, drugi put ne biste pogriješili. Zbogom, cajkane, i poželite mi sreću. Gadno su se poigrali sa mnom.
“Like hell you did,” I said, and walked away across the street to my own car.	— Bogami i jesu — rekao sam i odšetao preko ulice do svog automobila, /s
The gray Plymouth moved forward, gathered speed, and darted around the corner on to Sunset Place. The sound of its motor died, and with it blonde Agnes wiped herself off the slate for good, so far as I was concerned. Three men dead, Geiger, Brody and Harry Jones, and the woman went riding off in the rain with my two hundred in her bag and not a mark on her. I kicked my starter and drove on downtown to eat. I ate a good dinner. Forty miles in the rain is a hike, and I hoped to make it a round trip.	Sivi se plvmouth pokrenuo naprijed, prikupio brzinu i hitnuo se oko ugla Sunset Placea. Zvuk je motora zamro, a s tim se i plava Agnes obrisala s ploče navi jeke, bar što se mene tiče. Tri muškarca mrtva, Geiger, Brodv i Harry Jones, a ženska ode izvezavši se u kiši s moje dvije stotine u torbici, bez ogrebotine na sebi. Ritnuo sam se u starter i odvezao u grad pojesti nešto. Pojeo sam dobru večeru. Sedamdeset kilometara kroz kišu je dosta klipsanja, a nadao sam se da ću se morati i vratiti.
I drove north across the river, on into Pasadena, through Pasadena and almost at once I was in orange groves. The tumbling rain was solid white spray in the headlights. The windshield wiper could hardly keep the glass clear enough to see through. But not even the drenched darkness could hide the flawless lines of the orange trees wheeling away like endless spokes into the night.	Povezao sam sjeverno preko rijeke, pa dalje u Pasade-nu, pa kroz Pasadenu, i gotovo najednom stvorio se među gajevima narančinih stabala. Kiša se valjala, monolit kap ljica u svjetlu farova. Brisači su jedva uspijevali održati vjetrobran dovoljno bistrim da bih mogao gledati kroza nj. Ali čak ni promočena tmina nije mogla prikriti besprijekorne redove narančinih stabala što su se okretali poput žbica i nestajali u ijoć.
Cars passed with a tearing hiss and a wave of dirty spray. The highway jerked through a little town that was all packing houses and sheds, and railway sidings nuzzling them. The groves thinned out and dropped away to the south and the road climbed and it was cold and to the north the black foothills crouched closer and sent a bitter wind whipping down their flanks. Then faintly out of the dark two yellow vapor lights glowed high up in the air and a neon sign between them said: “Welcome to Realito.”	J' Automobili sii prolazili s prodornim piskom i valom prljavih kapljica. Auto-put se trznuo kroz neki gradić saz- dan od samih skladišta i hangara, kroz koje su rili željeznički odvojci. Gajevi su se prorijedili i otkinuli se prema jugu, cesta se počela uspinjati, zahladilo je, a prema sjeveru crni su se brežuljci skutrili bliže, šaljući oštar vjetar što im je šibao niz padine. I tada, slabašno iz mraka, dva su se žuta natrijska svjetla zakrijesila visoko u zraku, a neonski je natpis među njima rekao: »Dobro došli u Realito«.
Frame houses were spaced far back from a wide main street, then a sudden knot of stores, the lights of a drugstore behind fogged glass, the fly-cluster of cars in front of the movie theater, a dark bank on a corner with a clock sticking out over the sidewalk and a group of people standing in the rain looking at its windows, as if they were some kind of a show. I went on. Empty fields closed in again.	Drvene su kuće bile razmaknute daleko od široke glavne ulice, a iza njih je naglo uslijedio čvor dućana, pa svjetla dragstora iza zamagljenih stakala, mušji roj automobila ispred kinematografa, tanina banka na uglu sa satom koji viri iznad pločnika i skupinom ljudi što stoji na kiši i gleda joj u prozore, kao da je u njima nešto izloženo. Produžio sam. Prazna su se polja ponovno približila.
Fate stage-managed the whole thing. Beyond Realito, just about a mile beyond, the highway took a curve and the rain fooled me and I went too close to the shoulder. My right front tire let go with an angry hiss. Before I could stop the right rear went with it. I jammed the car to a stop, half on the pavement, half on the shoulder, got out and flashed a spotlight around. I had two flats and one spare. The flat butt of a heavy galvanized tack stared at me from the front tire.	Sudbina je izrežirala čitavu stvar. Iza Realita, samo oko kilometar i pol daleko, auto-cesta je zavila, a kiša me toliko smutila da sam došao preblizu laktu. Desna je prednja guma otišla s Ijutitim piskom. Prije no što sam mogao zaustaviti, za njom je otišla i stražnja desna. Nagnječio sam kola zaustavljajući ih dok nisu stala napola na kolniku, napola na laktu, pa izišao i zabljeskao svjetiljkom. Imao sam dvije ispuhane i jednu rezervnu. Ravna je glava debelo galvaniziranog čavlića zurila u mene iz prednje gume.
The edge of the pavement was littered with them. They had been swept off, but not far enough off.	Rub je kolnika bio zasijan njima. Bili su smeteni, ali ne dovoljno daleko.
I snapped the flash off and stood there breathing rain and looking up a side road at a yellow light. It seemed to come from a skylight. The skylight could belong to a garage, the garage could be run by a man named Art Huck, and there could be a frame house next door to it. I tucked my chin down in my collar and started towards it, then went back to unstrap the license holder from the steering post and put it in my pocket. I leaned lower under the wheel. Behind a weighted flap, directly under my right leg as I sat in the car, there was a hidden compartment. There were two guns in it. One belonged to Eddie Mars’ boy Lanny and one belonged to me. I took Lanny’s. It would have had more practice than mine. I stuck it nose down in an inside pocket and started up the side road.	Škljocnuo sam prekidačem svjetiljke ugasivši je i zastao udišući kišu i gledajući uz odvojak prema žutom svjetlu. Činilo se da dolazi iz prozora na stropu, Prozor je mogao pripadati garaži, garažu je mogao voditi čovjek imenom Art Huck, a mogla bi biti i drvenjara vrata do vrata s njom. Turio sam bradu u ovratnil$ i krenite? prema njemu, ali sam se vratio da razvežem koricevvozadlfte dozvole s osovine'volana i stavim ih u džep. Sagnuo sam se još niže pod volan. Ispod otežanog prostirača, direktno ispod desne noge dok bih sjedio u automobilu, nalazio se skriveni pretinac. U njemu su bila dva pištolja. Jedan je pripadao Lannvju, momku Eddija Marsa, drugi je pripadao meni. Uzeo sam Lanny-jev. Taj je imao više prakse od mojega Zatakao sam ga mušicom prema dolje u unutrašnji dŽ$p i pošao uz odvojak.
The garage was a hundred yards from the highway. It showed the highway a blank sidewall. I played the flash on it quickly. “Art Huck—Auto Repairs and Painting.” I chuckled, then Harry Jones’ face rose up in front of me, and I stopped chuckling. The garage doors were shut, but there was an edge of light under them and a thread of light where the halves met. I went on past. The frame house was there, light in two front windows, shades down. It was set well back from the road, behind a thin clump of trees. A car stood on the gravel drive in front. It was dark, indistinct, but it would be a brown coupe and it would belong to Mr. Canino. It squatted there peacefully in front of the narrow wooden porch.	Garaža je bila stotinu metara od auto-ceste. Njoj je pokazivala prazan bočni zid. Kratko sam bljesnuo baterijom. »Art Huck — Autoreparatura i lakirnica«. Zadovoljno sam se zasmijuckao, no onda mi se pred očima stvorilo lice Har-ryja Jonesa, pa sam prestao. Vrata su garaže bila zatvorena, no ispod njih je bila vrpca svjetla, kao što se vidjela i svjetlosna nit ondje gdje su se spajala krila. Produžio sam mimo. Drvena je kuća bila tamo, sa svjetlima u dva prednja prozora na kojima su bile spuštene rolete. Bila je postavljena dobrano dalje od ceste, iza skupine rijetkog drveća. Na pošljunčanom prilazu ispred kuće stajao je automoBil. Bio je taman, nerazaznatljiv, no mogao je biti smeđi kupe i mogao je pripadati misteru Canimi. Skutrio se tu mirno ispred uskog drvenog ulaza.
He would let her take it out for a spin once in a while, and sit beside her, probably with a gun handy. The girl Rusty Regan ought to have married, that Eddie Mars couldn’t keep, the girl that hadn’t run away with Regan. Nice Mr. Canino.	Dopustio bi joj da se tu i tamo ode njime prodirati, dok bi sjedio kraj nje, vjerojatno s pištoljem pri ruci. Curu kojom se Rustv Regan imao oženiti, koju Eddie Mars nije mogao zadržati, curu koja nije pobjegla s Reganom. Dragi mister Canino.
I trudged back to the garage and banged on the wooden door with the butt of my flash. There was a long instant of silence, as heavy as thunder. The light inside went out. I stood there grinning and licking the rain off my lip. I clicked the spot on the middle of the doors. I grinned at the circle of white. I was where I wanted to be.	Zaklipsao sam natrag do garaže i zalupao po drvenini vratima donjim krajem baterije. Uslijedio je neodlučni trenutak tišine, težak kao udarac groma. Svjetlo se unutra u-gasilo. Stajao sam ondje cereći se i ližući kišu s usnice. Šklj ocrnio sam svijetlu mrlju na sredinu vrata. Nacerio sam se krugu bijeloga. Bio sam gdje sam želio biti.
A voice spoke through the door, a surly voice: “What you want?”	Glas je progovorio kroz vrata, osoran glas: — Što hoćete?
“Open up. I’ve got two flats back on the highway and only one spare. I need help.”	— ptvprite. Dvije su mi se ispuhale na auto-cesti, a imam samo jednu rezervnu. Treba mi pomoć.
“Sorry, mister. We’re closed up. Realito’s a mile west. Better try there.”	— Žalim, mister. Zatvorili smo. Realito je kilometar i pol na zapad. Bolje da pokušate ondje.
I didn’t like that. I kicked the door hard. I kept on kicking it. Another voice made itself heard, a purring voice, like a small dynamo behind a wall. I liked this voice. It said: “A wise guy, huh? Open up, Art.”	To mi se nije dopajo. Opalio sam po vratima. Nastavio sam udarati. Tada se javio drugi glas, predući, nalik na mali dinamo iza zida. Taj 'mi se glas dopao. Rekao je: —Neki pametnjaković, ha? Otvori, Art.
A bolt squealed and half of the door bent inward. My flash burned briefly on a gaunt face. Then something that glittered swept down and knocked the flash out on my hand. A gun had peeked at me. I dropped low where the flash burned on the wet ground and picked it up.	Kračun je zacvilio i jedno se krilo zakrenulo unutra. Moja je svjetiljka kratko gorjela na ispijenom licu. Tada je nešto svjetlucavo zamahnulo prema dolje i izbilo mi bateriju iz ruke. Pištolj se ušiljio na mene. Sagnuo sam se nisko, gdje je svjetiljka gorjela na mokroj zemlji, i podigao je.
The surly voice said: “Kill that spot, bo. Folks get hurt that way.”	Osorni je glas rekao: — Gasi to, rista. Ljudi tako stradavaju.
I snapped the flash off and straightened. Light went on inside the garage, outlined a tall man in coveralls. He backed away from the open door and kept a gun leveled at me.	Škljocnuo sam sklopkom i uspravio se. Iz garaže je izlazilo svjetlo, ocrtavajući visokog muškarca u kombinezonu. Odstupio je od otvorenih vrata ostavljajući pištolj uperen u mene.
“Step inside and shut the door, stranger. We’ll see what we can do.”	— Ulazi i zatvaraj vrata, strance. Vidjet ćemo što možemo učiniti.
I stepped inside, and shut the door behind my back. I looked at the gaunt man, but not at the other man who was shadowy over by a workbench, silent. The breath of the garage was sweet and sinister with the smell of hot pyroxylin paint.	Ušao sam i zatvorio vrata za leđima. Pogledao sam suhonjavog čovjeka, ali ne i drugoga koji je bio sjena pokraj radne klupe. Dah je garaže bio slatkast i zloslutan svojim mirisom vruće piroksilinske boje.

“Ain’t you got no sense?” the gaunt man chided me. “A bank job was pulled at Realito this noon.”	— Zar nemate pameti? — zašpotao me je suhonjavi. — A u podne su napravili frku u banci u Realitu.
“Pardon,” I said, remembering the people staring at the bank in the rain. “I didn’t pull it. I’m a stranger here.”	— Oprostite — rekoh, prisjećajući se ljudi koji su po kiši buljili u banku. — Ja je nisam napravio. Ja sam ovdje samo prolaznik.
“Well, there was,” he said morosely. “Some say it was a couple of punk kids and they got ‘em cornered back here in the hills.”	— No dobro, dogodilo se — rekao je mrzovoljno. — Neki vele da je bio par odrpanih klinaca, i da su ih stjerali u ćošak tu gore u brdima.
“It’s a nice night for hiding,” I said. “I suppose they threw tacks out. I got some of them. I thought you just needed the business.”	— Ovo je krasna noć za skrivanje — rekoh. — Pretpostavljam da su oni izbacili čavliće. Pokupio sam neke od njih. Mislio sam da vam naprosto fali posla.
“You didn’t ever get socked in the kisser, did you?” the gaunt man asked me briefly.	— Nikad vas nitko nije žvajznuo po labrnji, zar ne? — kratko me je upitao suhi.
“Not by anybody your weight.”	— Nikad nitko tvoje težine.
The purring voice from over in the shadows said: “Cut out the heavy menace, Art. This guy’s in a jam. You run a garage, don’t you?”	Predući glas otprijeko iz sjene je rekao: —, Prekini s teškim prijetnjama, Art. Momak je u gužvi. Ti vodiš garažu, zar ne?
“Thanks,” I said, and didn’t look at him even then.	— Hvala — rekoh, no nisam ga čak ni tada pogledao.
“Okay, okay,” the man in the coveralls grumbled. He tucked his gun through a flap in his clothes and bit a knuckle, staring at me moodily over it. The smell of the pyroxylin paint was as sickening as ether. Over in the corner, under a drop light, there was a big new looking sedan with a paint gun lying on its fender.	— Okej, okej — progunđao je čovjek u kombinezonu. Turio je pištolj kroz otvor na odjeći i zagrizao u zglob prsta, gledajući me zlovoljno preko njega. Miris je piroksilinske boje bio mučan poput etera. Preko puta u kutu, pod lampom na spuštanje, bila je velika, na izgled nova limuzina, na čijem je blatobranu ležao pištolj za raspršivanje boje.
I looked at the man by the workbench now. He was short and thick-bodied with strong shoulders. He had a cool face and cool dark eyes. He wore a belted brown suede raincoat that was heavily spotted with rain. His brown hat was tilted rakishly. He leaned his back against the workbench and looked me over without haste, without interest, as if he was looking at a slab of cold meat. Perhaps he thought of people that way.	Sad sam pogledao čovjeka pokraj radne klupe. Bio je nizak i nabijen, jakih ramena. Imao je hladno lice i hladne tamne oči. Nosio je opasani smeđi kišni kaput od velura, kaput što je bio gusto istočkan kišom. Smeđi mu je šešir bio raspusno nakrivljen. Naslonio je leđa na radnu klupu i pogledao me preko prostorije bez žurbe, bez zanimanja, kao da gleda blok hladnog mesa. Možda je i mislio o ljudima na takav način.
He moved his dark eyes up and down slowly and then glanced at his fingernails one by one, holding them up against the light and studying them with care, as Hollywood has taught it should be done. He spoke around a cigarette.	Pomakao je svoje tamne oči polako gore i dolje, i tada pogledao nokte jedan po jedan, držeći ih prema svjetlu i pažljivo ih proučavajući, onako kako ga je Hollywood naučio da treba činiti. Govorio je kraj cigarete.
“Got two flats, huh? That’s tough. They swept them tacks, I thought.”	— Dvije ispuhale, ha? To je gadno. Omeli su te čavli-će, mislio sam.
“I skidded a little on the curve.”	— Kliznuo sam malo u okuci.
“Stranger in town you said?”	— Stranac u gradu, reče?
“Traveling through. On the way to L.A. How far is it?”	— Prolazim. Na putu za Angeles. Kako je daleko?
“Forty miles. Seems longer this weather. Where from, stranger?”	— Sedamdeset kilometara. Izgleda duže po ovakvom vremenu. Odakle, strance?
“Santa Rosa.”	— Santa Rosa.
“Come the long way, eh? Tahoe and Lone Pine?”	— Dug put, ha? Tahoe i Lone Pine?
“Not Tahoe. Reno and Carson City.”	— Ne Tahoe. Reno i Carson City.
“Still the long way.” A fleeting smile curved his lips.	— Još uvijek dug put. — Smiješak mu je preletio preko lica i zakrivio usne.
“Any law against it?” I asked him.	— To je protiv nekog zakona? — upitao sam ga.
“Huh? No, sure not. Guess you think we’re nosey. Just on account of that heist back there. Take a jack and get his flats, Art.”	— Ha? Ne, jasno, ne. Rek'o bi' da misliš da guramo nos. Samo zbog one popaljiške tamo dolje. Uzmi dizalicu i skini probušene, Art.
“I’m busy,” the gaunt man growled. “I’ve got work to do. I got this spray job. And it’s raining, you might have noticed.”	— Imam posla — progunđao je suhi. — Treba ovo zgotoviti. Imam to lakiranje. A pada kiša, kao što si mogao opaziti.
The man in brown said pleasantly: “Too damp for a good spray job, Art. Get moving.”	Čovjek u smeđem rekao je Ijubezno: — Prevlažno za dobro lakiranje, Art. Pokreni se.
I said: “They’re front and rear, on the right side. You could use the spare for one spot, if you’re busy.”	Rekoh: — To su prednja i stražnja, na desnoj strani. Možete upotrijebiti rezervnu na jednome mjestu, ako imate posla.
“Take two jacks, Art,” the brown man said.	— Uzmi dvije dizalice, Art — kazao je smeđi.
“Now, listen—” Art began to bluster.	— Ma, slušajte ... — počeo se Art pjeniti.
The brown man moved his eyes, looked at Art with a soft quiet-eyed stare, lowered them again almost shyly. He didn’t speak. Art rocked as if a gust of wind had hit him. He stamped over to the corner and put a rubber coat over his coveralls, a sou’wester on his head. He grabbed a socket wrench and a hand jack and wheeled a dolly jack over to the doors.	Smeđi je pomakao oči, pogledao Arta mekanim, mirnim pogledom i zatim ga spustio gotovo sramežljivo. Nije progovorio. Art sejzaljuljao kao da ga je pogodio žestoki udar vjetra. Žatabanao je prijeko do kuta, pa stavio gume-nPkaput preko kombinezona a nepromočivi šešir široka oboda na glavu. Dograbio je šuplji ključ i ručnu dizalicu, pa iskotrljao dizalicu na kotačima kroz vrata.
He went out silently, leaving the door yawning. The rain blustered in. The man in brown strolled over and shut it and strolled back to the workbench and put his hips exactly where they had been before. I could have taken him then. We were alone. He didn’t know who I was. He looked at me lightly and threw his cigarette on the cement floor and stamped on it without looking down.	Izišao je tiho, ostavivši vrata da zijaju. Kiša je ljutite udarila unutra. Čovjek u smeđem odšetao je reko prosto- rjje zatvorio ih, došetao natrag do radne klupe i stavio kukove upravo tamo gdje su i prije bili. Mogao sam ga tada srediti. Bili smo sami. Nije znao tko sam. Ovlaš me je pogledao, bacio cigaretu na cementni pod i zgazio je ne spu-stivši pogled.
“I bet you could use a drink,” he said. “Wet the inside and even up.” He reached a bottle from the workbench behind him and set it on the edge and set two glasses beside it. He poured a stiff jolt into each and held one out.	— Kladim se da znaš piti — rekao je. — Smoči se i iznutra, da izravnaš. — Dosegao je bocu s radne klupe iza sebe, postavio je na rub, i do nje metnuo dvije čaše. Natočio je žestoku mjeru u svaku pa ispružio jednu.

Walking like a dummy I went over and took it. The memory of the rain was still cold on my face. The smell of hot paint drugged the close air of the garage.	Hodajući kao marioneta došao sam do njega i uzeo je. Sjećanje mi je na kišu još bilo hladno na licu. Miris je vruće boje narkotizirao zatvoreni zrak garaže.
“That Art,” the brown man said. “He’s like all mechanics. Always got his face in a job he ought to have done last week. Business trip?”	— Taj Art — rekao je smeđi. — Taj je kao i svi mehaničari. Uvijek do nosa u poslu koji je trebalo napraviti još prošlog tjedna. Poslovni put?
I sniffed my drink delicately. It had the right smell. I watched him drink some of his before I swallowed mine. I rolled it around on my tongue. There was no cyanide in it. I emptied the little glass and put it down beside him and moved away.	Oprezno sam onjušio svoje piće. Imalo je pravi miris. Vidio sam ga kako je popio nešto od svojega prije no što sam progutao moje. Žavaljao sam ga po jeziku. U njemu nije bilo cijanida. Ispraznio sam čašicu, položio je kraj njega i odmaknuo se.
“Partly,” I said. I walked over to the half-painted sedan with the big metal paint gun lying along its fender. The rain hit the flat roof hard. Art was out in it, cursing.	— Djelomično — rekoh. Otišao sam do napola obojene limuzine s velikim metalnim raspršivačem na blatobranu. Kiša je ljuto udarala o ravni krov. Art je bio vani, u njoj, i psovao.
The brown man looked at the big car. “Just a panel job, to start with,” he said casually, his purring voice still softer from the drink. “But the guy had dough and his driver needed a few bucks. You know the racket.”	Smeđi je pogledao veliki automobil. — Promjena ličnog opisa, u prvom redu — rekao je kao usput, predućim glasom koji je bio još mekši od pića. — Ali tip ima love, a njegovu je vozaču trebalo nekoliko baksi. Znaš već zanat.
I said: “There’s only one that’s older.” My lips felt dry. I didn’t want to talk. I lit a cigarette. I wanted my tires fixed. The minutes passed on tiptoe. The brown man and I were two strangers chance-met, looking at each other across a little dead man named Harry Jones. Only the brown man didn’t know that yet.	Rekoh: — Postoji samo jedan koji je stariji. — Usne su mi se osušile. Nije mi se govorilo. Pripalio sam cigaretu. Htjelo mi se da mi sredi gume. Minute su prolazile na prstima. Smeđi i ja bili smo dva stranca koja su se slučajno našla, i sad su se gledala preko malog mrtvaca imenom Harry Jones. Samo što to smeđi još nije znao.
Feet crunched outside and the door was pushed open. The light hit pencils of rain and made silver wires of them. Art trundled two muddy flats in sullenly, kicked the door shut, let one of the flats fall over on its side. He looked at me savagely.	Vani su zaškripala stopala i vrata su se, gurnuta, otvorila. Svjetlo je udarilo u štapiće kiše i pretvorilo ih u srebrne žice. Art je smrknuto uvaljao dvije blatnjave probu-šene gume, udarcem zatvorio vrata i pustio jednu da padne na stranu. Pogledao me je divljački.
“You sure pick spots for a jack to stand on,” he snarled.	— Sigurno odabirete mjesto gdje je najzgodnije postaviti dizalicu — zarežao je.
The brown man laughed and took a rolled cylinder of nickels out of his pocket and tossed it up and down on the palm of his hand.	Smeđi se nasmijao, izvadio iz džepa uvezani valjak ni-klenih novčića i počeo ga na dlanu bacati gore-dolje.
“Don’t crab so much,” he said dryly. “Fix those flats.”	— Nemoj toliko jamrati — rekao je suho. — Sredi te gume.
“I’m fixin’ them, ain’t I?”	— Pa i sređujem ih, je F da?
“Well, don’t make a song about it.”	— Ne moraš iz toga napraviti roman.
“Yah!” Art peeled his rubber coat and sou’wester off and threw them away from him. He heaved one tire up on a spreader and tore the rim loose viciously. He had the tube out and cold-patched in nothing flat. Still scowling, he strode over to the wall beside me and grabbed an air hose, put enough air into the tube to give it body and let the nozzle of the air hose smack against the whitewashed wall.	— Jeee! — Art je svukao gumenu kabanicu i nepromočivi šešir pa ih bacio od sebe. Podigao je jednu gumu na stroj za razvlačenje i opako oslobodio obruč. Izvadio je zračnicu i zalijepio proboje. Još uvijek se mrgodeći, došao je do zida kraj mene, pograbio cijev za komprimirani zrak, napuhao zračnicu dovoljno da bi dobila oblik, i pustio sapnicu da pljesne o okrečeni zid.
I stood watching the roll of wrapped coins dance in Canino’s hand. The moment of crouched intensity had left me. I turned my head and watched the gaunt mechanic beside me toss the air-stiffened tube up and catch it with his hands wide, one on each side of the tube. He looked it over sourly, glanced at a big galvanized tub of dirty water in the corner and grunted.	Stajao sam i promatrao kako valjak umotanih novčića pleše u Caninovoj ruci. Prošao me trenutak prikrivene preosjetljivosti. Okrenuo sam glavu i stao promatrati kako suhi mehaničar kraj mene baca zrakom ukrućenu zračnicu i hvata je raširenim rukama, sa svake strane po jednom. Pregledao ju je zlovoljno, bacio pogled na veliku po-cinčanu kadu u uglu napunjenu prljavom vodom i zagun-đao.
The teamwork must have been very nice. I saw no signal, no glance of meaning, no gesture that might have a special import. The gaunt man had the stiffened tube high in the air, staring at it. He half turned his body, took one long quick step, and slammed it down over my head and shoulders, a perfect ringer.	Mora da im je timski rad bio prekrasan. Nisam vidio nikakva znaka, nikakvog značajnog pogleda, ni jedne geste koja bi mogla imati neki posebni smisao. Suhi je držao ukrućenu zračnicu visoko u zraku i zurio u nju. Napola je zakrenuo tijelo, napravio jedan dugački, brzi korak, i mlat-nuo me njome po glavi i plećima: pogodak u srijedu.
He jumped behind me and leaned hard on the rubber. His weight dragged on my chest, pinned my upper arms tight to my sides. I could move my hands, but I couldn’t reach the gun in my pocket.	Skočio mi je za leđa i čvrsto se naslonio na gumu. Njegova mi je težina pritisla na prsa, prikovala mi nadlaktice čvrsto uz bokove. Mogao sam micati rukama, ali nisam mogao dosegnuti pištolj u džepu.
The brown man came almost dancing towards me across the floor. His hand tightened over the roll of nickels. He came up to me without sound, without expression. I bent forward and tried to heave Art off his feet.	Smeđi mi je prišao gotovo plešući. Rj\|ka mu se stisnula oko valjčića niklenih novčića. Došao je do mene bez glasa, bez izraza. Izvio sam se naprijed i pokušao zbaciti Arta s nogu.
The fist with the weighted tube inside it went through my spread hands like a stone through a cloud of dust. I had the stunned moment of shock when the lights danced and the visible world went out of focus but was still there. He hit me again. There was no sensation in my head. The bright glare got brighter. There was nothing but hard aching white light. Then there was darkness in which something red wriggled like a germ under a microscope. Then there was nothing bright or wriggling, just darkness and emptiness and a rushing wind and a falling as of great trees.	Šaka s otežanim valjčićem prošla je kroz moje raširene ruke kao kamen kroz oblak prašine. Doživio sam trenutak ošamućenosti šokom u kojem su svjetla zaplesala a vidljivi je svijet ispao iz fokusa, no još je bio tu. Pogodio me ponovno. U glavi mi nije bilo nikakvog osjećaja. Sjajno je žarenje postalo sjajnije. Nije bilo ničega osim oštrog bol- nog bijelog svjetla. Zatim je bila tama u kojoj se koprcalo nešto crveno, nalik na klicu ispod mikroskopa. A zatim nije bilo ničeg ni sjajnog ni koprcavog, samo tama i praznina i zapuši vjetra i rušenje poput velikih stabala.

>> Chapter 28