d the more personal touch afforded by crowbars； aluminum softball bats； nunchaku sticks； piano wire； cutlery； or gym socks filled with lead fishing sinkers。 Any would have done the job nicely on Tony Torres； but Ira Jackson had brought nothing but his bare fists to the salesman's house。
〃What is it you want？〃 Tony Torres demanded。
〃An explanation。〃
〃Which I just gave you。〃 Tony's eyes watered from peering into the sun's glare； and he was growing worried。 Edie the Ice Maiden had disappeared with Ira Jackson's dogs…what the hell was that all about？ Were they in on something？ And where was the freak in the bad suit； his so…called bodyguard？
Tony said to Ira Jackson： 〃I think it's time for you to go。〃 He motioned with the shotgun toward the street。
〃This is how you treat dissatisfied customers？〃
A jittery laugh burst from the salesman。 〃Sport； you ain't here for no refund。〃
〃You're right。〃 Ira Jackson was pleased by the din of the neighborhood…hammers； drills； saws； electric generators。 All the folks preoccupied with putting their homes back together。 The noise would make it easier to cover the ruckus； if the mobile…home salesman tried to put up a struggle。
Tony Torres said； 〃You think I don't know to use this twelve…gauge； you're makin' a big mistake。 Check out the hole in that garage door。〃
Ira Jackson whistled。 〃I'm impressed； Mister Torres。 You shot a house。〃
Tony's expression hardened。 〃I'm counting to three。〃
〃My mother was hit by a damn barbecue。〃
〃One！〃 the salesman said。 〃Every second you look more like a looter； mister。〃
〃You promised her the place was safe。 All those poor people…how the hell do you sleep nights？〃
〃Two！〃
〃Relax； you fat fuck。 I'm on my way。〃 Ira Jackson turned and walked slowly toward the street。
Tony Torres took a deep breath； his tongue felt like sandpaper。 He lowered the Remington until it rested on one of his kneecaps。 He watched Beatrice Jackson's son pause in the driveway and kneel as if tying a shoe。
Craning to see； Tony shouted： 〃Move it； sport！〃
The cinder block caught him by surprise…first； the sheer weight of it； thirty…odd pounds of solid concrete； second； the fact that Ira Jackson was able to throw such a hefty object； shot…putter style； with such distressing accuracy。
When it struck the salesman's chest； the cinder block knocked the shotgun from his hands； the beer from his bladder and the breath from his lungs。 He made a sibilant exclamation； like a water bed rupturing。
So forceful was the cinder block's impact that it doubled Tony Torres at the waist； causing the chaise longue to spring on him like an oversized mousetrap。 The moans he let out as Ira Jackson dragged him to the car were practically inaudible over the chorus of his neighbors' chain saws。
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Dade County Medical Examiner's Office was quiet； neat and modern…nothing like Bonnie Lamb's notion of a big…city morgue。 She admired the architect's thinking； the design of the building successfully avoided the theme of violent homicide。 With its brisk and clerical…looking layout； it could have passed for the regional headquarters of an insurance pany or a mortgage firm； except for the dead bodies in the north wing。
A friendly secretary brought coffee to Bonnie Lamb while Augustine spoke privately to an assistant medical examiner。 The young doctor remembered Augustine from a week earlier； when he had e to claim his uncle's snakebitten remains。 The medical examiner was intrigued to learn from Augustine that the tropical viper that had killed Felix Mojack now roamed free。 He E…mailed a memorandum to Jackson Memorial； alerting the emergency room to requisition more antivenin； just in case。 Then he took a Xeroxed copy of Bonnie Lamb's police report down the hall。
When he returned； the medical examiner said the morgue had two unidentified corpses that loosely matched the physical description of Max Lamb。 Augustine relayed the news to Bonnie。
〃You up for this？〃 he asked。
〃If you go with me。〃
It was a long walk to the autopsy room； where the temperature seemed to drop fifteen degrees。 Bonnie Lamb took Augustine's hand as they moved among the self…draining steel tables； where a half…dozen bodies were laid out in varying stages of dissection。 The room gave off a cloying odor； the sickly…sweet mingling of chemicals and dead flesh。 Augustine felt Bonnie's palm go cold。 He asked her if she was going to faint。
〃No；〃 she said。 〃It's just 。。。 God； I thought they'd all be covered with sheets。〃
〃Only in the movies。〃
The first John Doe had lank hair and sparse； uneven sideburns。 He was the same race and age； but otherwise bore no resemblance to Max Lamb。 The dead man's eyes were greenish blue； Max's were brown。 Still； Bonnie stared。
〃How did he die？〃
Augustine asked： 〃Is it Max？〃
She shook her head sharply。 〃But tell me how he died。〃
With a Bic pen； the young medical examiner pointed to a dime…sized hole beneath the dead man's left armpit。 〃Gunshot wound；〃 he said。
Augustine and Bonnie Lamb followed the doctor to another table。 Here the cause of death was no mystery。 The second John Doe had been in a terrible accident。 He was scalped and his face pulverized beyond recognition。 A black track of autopsy stitches ran from his breast to his pelvis。
Bonnie stammered； 〃I don't know； I can't tell…〃
〃Look at his hands；〃 the medical examiner said。
〃No wedding ring；〃 Augustine observed。
〃Please。 I want her to look；〃 the medical examiner said。 〃We remove the jewelry for safekeeping。〃
Bonnie dazedly circled the table。 The bluish pallor of the dead man's skin made it difficult to determine his natural plexion。 He was built like Max…narrow shoulders； bony chest； with a veined roll of baby fat at the midsection。 The arms and legs were lean and finely haired； like Max's。。。。
〃Ma'am； what about the hands？〃
Bonnie Lamb forced herself to look； and was glad she did。 The hands were not her husband's； the fingernails were grubby and gnawed。 Max believed religiously in manicures and buffing。
〃No； it's not him。〃 She spoke very softly； as if trying not to awaken the man with no face。
The doctor wanted to know if her husband had any birthmarks。 Bonnie said she hadn't noticed； and felt guilty…as if she hadn't spent enough time examining the details of Max's trunk and extremities。 Couldn't most lovers map their partner's most intimate blemishes？
〃I remember a mole；〃 she said in a helpful tone； 〃on one of his elbows。〃
〃Which elbow？〃 asked the medical examiner。
〃I don't recall。〃
〃Like it matters；〃 said Augustine； restlessly。 〃Check both his arms； OK？〃
The doctor checked。 The dead man's elbows had no moles。 Bonnie turned away from the body and laid her head against Augustine's chest。
〃He was driving a stolen motorcycle；〃 the doctor explained； 〃with a stolen microwave strapped to the back。〃
Augustine sighed irritably。 〃A hurricane looter。〃
〃Right。 Smacked a lumber truck doing eighty。〃
〃Now he tells us；〃 said Bonnie Lamb。
The wash of relief didn't hit her until she was back in Augustine's pickup truck。 It wasn't Max at the morgue； because Max is still alive。 This is good。 This is cause to be thankful。 Then Bonnie began to tremble； imagining her husband gutted like a fish on a shiny steel tray。
When they returned to the neighborhood where Max Lamb had vanished； they found the rental car on its rims。 The hood stood open and the radiator was gone。 Augustine's note on the windshield wiper was untouched…a testament； he remarked； to the low literacy rate among car burglars。 He offered to call a wrecker。
〃Later；〃 Bonnie said； tersely。
〃That's what I meant。 Later。〃 He locked the truck and set the alarm。
They walked the streets for nearly two hours； Augustine with the 。38 Special wedged in his belt。 He thought Max Lamb's abductor might have holed up； so they checked every abandoned house in the subdivision。 Walking from one block to the next； Bonnie struck up conversations with people who were patching their battered homes。 She hoped one of them would remember seeing Max on the morning after the hurricane。 Several residents offered colorful accounts of monkey sightings； but Bonnie spoke with no one who recalled the kidnapping of a tourist。
Augustine drove her to the Metro police checkpoint； where she contacted a towing service and the rental…car agency in Orlando。 Then she made a call to the apartment in New York to get her messages。 After listening for a minute； she pressed the pound button on the telephone and handed the receiver to Augustine。
〃Unbelievable；〃 she said。
It was Max Lamb's voice on the line。 The static was so heavy he could have been calling from Tibet： 〃Bonnie； darling； everything's OK。 I don't believe my life's in danger； but I can't say when I'll be free。 It's too hairy to explain over the phone…uh； hang on； he wants me to read something。 Ready？ Here goes： 〃'I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity…I belong to the earth！ I say