The Trail to Buddha's Mirror Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Don Winslow
Mount Tarn he could see Sausalito, and scanning farther to the right he saw small sailboats dancing on the sapphire blue water around the plump, notorious little island of Alcatraz. To his right he could see the whole span of the Bay Bridge as it led to Oakland. A huge freighter was plying its way up the bay toward San Mateo.
He had about five seconds to enjoy all this splendor before he turned to see Benchpress shuffling to the base of the walkway. Neal saw a homicidal look in the security guard’s eye and wondered if he was about to get beaten to the proverbial pulp.
This is no big deal on television, where the private eye hero gets trashed by three guys twice his size, because when you see him after the commercial he has some beautiful woman tending his wounds and he’s up and about, so to speak, one roll-cut later. But real-life beatings hurt. Worse, they injure, and the injuries take a long time to heal, if they ever do. Neal just wanted to avoid the whole experience.
He put his back up against the railing and one of the binoculars on his left side as Benchpress reached the observation terrace and began to move toward him.
“Are you going to make me chase you down the hill now?” Bench-press asked as he edged along the railing toward Neal. He was breathing hard, stalling to catch his breath.
“I don’t know, would it work?”
“You’re an asshole. You know where I live? Chinatown. Sacramento Street? Clay Street? California Street? You know what they are?”
I’m an asshole all right, Neal thought.
“Hills,” Neal said. “They’re big hills.”
“I’ve been walking up and down those streets since I was a kid. You think you’re going to shake me on a hill? Get real.”
“You’re right. I apologize.”
“That’s okay. Now what’s your story? What did you steal?”
“Nothing.”
Benchpress was taking his air through his nose now, timing his breathing and slowing it down. He shifted his eyes around to see if they were alone. They were.
He pulled his security guard’s badge out and held it up for Neal to see.
“Let’s make this easy now,” he said.
“I was looking for something.”
“PI?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“ID?”
Neal couldn’t handle any more initials, so he held out the torn hundred-dollar bill.
“You can relax,” he said. “You did your job. I didn’t steal anything. You ran me down. Take the prize.”
He stuck the bill behind the coin slot of the binoculars and started to back away.
“You’re offering me a bribe?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have anything against the concept, I’m just checking it out.”
“Basically, I’m paying you not to beat me up to defend your honor.”
He smiled, accepting Neal’s craven surrender graciously.
“Where’s the other half?” he asked.
“It’s under a tree down there somewhere.”
He was one quick fat man. His right foot shot out and kicked the air twice, face-high, before Neal could even break into tears.
“I’m not playing hide-and-seek for half a bill that probably doesn’t exist.”
Neal edged farther along the railing away from Benchpress as he said, “Here’s how it’s going to work. You take the half-bill here and start walking down the path. I stay right here where you can see me. The tree is within sight. When you’re, oh, let’s say twenty steps away, I’ll start giving you directions—you know, ‘you’re getting warmer, you’re getting colder’—until you find the other half.”
Benchpress thought about it for a few seconds.
“There are only two paths down from here,” he warned Neal.
“I know.”
“If you try to screw me, I can catch you.”
“I know that, too.”
“If I have to do that, I’ll break your ribs.”
Enough is enough, thought Neal, even for a devoted coward like me. This gig might bring me back onto this guy’s turf again, and I’d need some status to make a deal. We have to get on a more equal footing here.
“Maybe,” Neal said. “I’m carrying,
He had about five seconds to enjoy all this splendor before he turned to see Benchpress shuffling to the base of the walkway. Neal saw a homicidal look in the security guard’s eye and wondered if he was about to get beaten to the proverbial pulp.
This is no big deal on television, where the private eye hero gets trashed by three guys twice his size, because when you see him after the commercial he has some beautiful woman tending his wounds and he’s up and about, so to speak, one roll-cut later. But real-life beatings hurt. Worse, they injure, and the injuries take a long time to heal, if they ever do. Neal just wanted to avoid the whole experience.
He put his back up against the railing and one of the binoculars on his left side as Benchpress reached the observation terrace and began to move toward him.
“Are you going to make me chase you down the hill now?” Bench-press asked as he edged along the railing toward Neal. He was breathing hard, stalling to catch his breath.
“I don’t know, would it work?”
“You’re an asshole. You know where I live? Chinatown. Sacramento Street? Clay Street? California Street? You know what they are?”
I’m an asshole all right, Neal thought.
“Hills,” Neal said. “They’re big hills.”
“I’ve been walking up and down those streets since I was a kid. You think you’re going to shake me on a hill? Get real.”
“You’re right. I apologize.”
“That’s okay. Now what’s your story? What did you steal?”
“Nothing.”
Benchpress was taking his air through his nose now, timing his breathing and slowing it down. He shifted his eyes around to see if they were alone. They were.
He pulled his security guard’s badge out and held it up for Neal to see.
“Let’s make this easy now,” he said.
“I was looking for something.”
“PI?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“ID?”
Neal couldn’t handle any more initials, so he held out the torn hundred-dollar bill.
“You can relax,” he said. “You did your job. I didn’t steal anything. You ran me down. Take the prize.”
He stuck the bill behind the coin slot of the binoculars and started to back away.
“You’re offering me a bribe?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have anything against the concept, I’m just checking it out.”
“Basically, I’m paying you not to beat me up to defend your honor.”
He smiled, accepting Neal’s craven surrender graciously.
“Where’s the other half?” he asked.
“It’s under a tree down there somewhere.”
He was one quick fat man. His right foot shot out and kicked the air twice, face-high, before Neal could even break into tears.
“I’m not playing hide-and-seek for half a bill that probably doesn’t exist.”
Neal edged farther along the railing away from Benchpress as he said, “Here’s how it’s going to work. You take the half-bill here and start walking down the path. I stay right here where you can see me. The tree is within sight. When you’re, oh, let’s say twenty steps away, I’ll start giving you directions—you know, ‘you’re getting warmer, you’re getting colder’—until you find the other half.”
Benchpress thought about it for a few seconds.
“There are only two paths down from here,” he warned Neal.
“I know.”
“If you try to screw me, I can catch you.”
“I know that, too.”
“If I have to do that, I’ll break your ribs.”
Enough is enough, thought Neal, even for a devoted coward like me. This gig might bring me back onto this guy’s turf again, and I’d need some status to make a deal. We have to get on a more equal footing here.
“Maybe,” Neal said. “I’m carrying,