Yessir. I understand that.
You understand that.
Yessir.
That's good. I'm glad I've got your attention.
Yessir. You have my attention.
The man unlocked a drawer in the desk and took out a steel box and unlocked that and took out a card and closed the box and locked it and put it away again. He held up the card between two fingers and looked at Wells and Wells stepped forward and took it.
You pay your own expenses if I remember correctly.
Yessir.
This account will only give up twelve hundred dollars in any twenty-four hour period. That's up from a thousand.
Yessir.
How well do you know Chigurh.
Well enough.
That's not an answer.
What do you want to know?
The man tapped his knuckles on the desk. He looked up. I'd just like to know your opinion of him. In general. The invincible Mr Chigurh.
Nobody's invincible.
Somebody is.
Why do you say that?
Somewhere in the world is the most invincible man. Just as somewhere is the most vulnerable.
That's a belief that you have?
No. It's called statistics. Just how dangerous is he?
Wells shrugged. Compared to what? The bubonic plague? He's bad enough that you called me. He's a psychopathic killer but so what? There's plenty of them around.
He was in a shoot-out at Eagle Pass yesterday.
A shoot-out?
A shoot-out. People dead in the streets. You dont read the papers.
No sir, I dont.
He studied Wells. You've led something of a charmed life, havent you Mr Wells?
In all honesty I cant say that charm has had a whole lot to do with it.
Yes, the man said. What else.
I guess that's it. Were these Pablo's men?
Yes.
You're sure.
Not in the sense that you mean. But reasonably sure. They werent ours. He killed two other men a couple of days before and those two did happen to be ours. Along with the three at that colossal goatfuck a few days before that. All right?
All right. I guess that will do it.
Good hunting, as we used to say. Once upon a time. In the long ago.
Thank you sir. Can I ask you something?
Sure.
I couldnt come back up in that elevator, could I?
Not to this floor. Why?
I was just interested. Security. Always interesting.
It recodes itself after every trip. A randomly generated five digit number. It doesnt print out anywhere. I dial a number and it reads the code back over the phone. I give it to you and you punch it in. Does that answer your question?
Nice.
Yes.
I counted the floors from the street.
And?
There's a floor missing.
I'll have to look into it.
Wells smiled.
You can see yourself out? the man said.
Yes.
All right.
One other thing.
What is that.
I wondered if I could get my parking ticket validated.
The man cocked his head slightly. This is an attempt at humor I suppose.
Sorry.
Good day, Mr Wells.
Right.
When Wells got to the hotel the plastic ribbons were gone and the glass and wood had been swept up out of the lobby and the place was open for business. There was plywood nailed over the doors and two of the windows and there was a new clerk standing at the desk where the old clerk had been. Yessir, he said.
I need a room, Wells said.
Yessir. Is it just yourself?
Yes.
And for how many nights would that be.
Probably just the one.
The clerk pushed the pad toward Wells and turned to study the keys hanging on the board. Wells filled out the form. I know you're tired of people asking, he said, but what happened to your hotel?
I'm not supposed to discuss it.
That's all right.
The clerk laid the key on the desk. Will that be cash or credit card?
Cash. How much is it?
Fourteen plus tax.
How much is it. Altogether.
Sir?
I said how much is it altogether. You need to tell me how much it is. Give me a figure. All in.
Yessir. That would be fourteen-seventy.
Were you here when all this took place?
No sir. I only started here yesterday. This is just my second shift.
Then what is it you're not supposed to discuss?
Sir?
What time do you get off?
Sir?
Let me rephrase that. What time is your shift over.
The clerk was tall and thin, maybe Mexican and maybe not. His eyes darted briefly over the lobby of the hotel. As if there might be something out there to help him. I just came on at six, he said. The shift is over at two.
And who comes on at two.
I dont know his name. He was the dayclerk.
He wasnt here the night before last.
No sir. He was the dayclerk.
The man who was on duty the night before last. Where is he?
He's not with us anymore.
Have you got yesterday's paper here?
He backed away and looked under the desk. No sir, he said. I think they threw it out.
All right. Send me up a couple of whores and a fifth of whiskey with some ice.
Sir?
I'm just pulling your leg. You need to relax. They're not coming back. I can pretty near guarantee it.
Yessir. I hope to hell not. I didnt even want to take this job.
Wells smiled and tapped the fiberboard keyfob twice on the marble desktop and went up the stairs.
He was surprised to find the police tape still across both of the rooms. He went on to his own room and set his bag in the chair and got out his shavingkit and went in the bathroom and turned on the light. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and went back into the room and stretched out on the bed. After a while he got up and went to the chair and turned the bag sideways and unzipped a compartment in the bottom and took out a suede leather pistolcase. He unzipped the case and took out a stainless steel .357 revolver and went back to the bed and took off his boots and stretched out again with the pistol beside him.
When he woke it was almost dark. He rose and went to the window and pushed back the old lace curtain. Lights in the street. Long reefs of dull red cloud racked over the darkening western horizon. Roofs in a low and squalid skyline. He put the pistol in his belt and pulled his shirt outside of his trousers to cover it and went out and down the hallway in his sockfeet.
It took him about fifteen seconds to get into Moss's room and he shut the door behind him without disturbing the tape. He leaned against the door and smelled the room. Then he stood there just looking things over.
The first thing he did was to walk carefully over the carpet. When he came across the depression where the bed had been moved he swung the bed out into the room. He knelt and blew at the dust and he studied the nap of the carpet. He rose and picked up the pillows and smelled them and put them back. He left the bed standing quarterwise in the room and walked over to the wardrobe and opened the doors and looked in and closed them again.
He went into the bathroom. He ran his forefinger around the sink. A washcloth and handtowel had been used but not the soap. He ran his finger down the side of the tub and then wiped it along the seam of his trousers. He sat on the edge of the tub and tapped his foot on the tiles.
The other room was number 227. He went in and closed the door and turned and stood. The bed had not been slept in. The bathroom door was open. A bloody towel lay in the floor.
He walked over and pushed the door all the way back. There was a bloodstained washcloth in the sink. The other towel was missing. Bloody ha
ndprints. A bloody handprint on the edge of the showercurtain. I hope you havent crawled off in a hole somewhere, he said. I sure would like to get paid.
He was abroad in the morning at first light walking the streets and making notes in his head. The pavement had been hosed off but you could still see bloodstains in the concrete of the walkway where Moss had been shot. He went back to Main Street and started again. Bits of glass in the gutters and along the sidewalks. Some of it windowglass and some of it from curbside automobiles. The windows that had been shot out were boarded up with plywood but you could see the pocks in the brickwork or the teardrop smears of lead that had come down from the hotel. He walked back to the hotel and sat on the steps and looked at the street. The sun was coming up over the Aztec Theatre. Something caught his eye at the second floor level. He got up and walked down and crossed the street and climbed the stairs. Two bulletholes in the windowglass. He tapped at the door and waited. Then he opened the door and went in.
A darkened room. Faint smell of rot. He stood until his eyes were accustomed to the dimness. A parlor. A pianola or small organ against the far wall. A chifforobe. A rockingchair by the window where an old woman sat slumped.
Wells stood over the woman studying her. She'd been shot through the forehead and had tilted forward leaving part of the back of her skull and a good bit of dried brainmatter stuck to the slat of the rocker behind her. She had a newspaper in her lap and she was wearing a cotton robe that was black with dried blood. It was cold in the room. Wells looked around. A second shot had marked a date on a calendar on the wall behind her that was three days hence. You could not help but notice. He looked around the rest of the room. He took a small camera from his jacket pocket and took a couple of pictures of the dead woman and put the camera back in his pocket again. Not what you had in mind at all, was it darling? he told her.
Moss woke in a ward with sheeting hung between him and the bed to his left. A shadowshow of figures there. Voices in spanish. Dim noises from the street. A motorcycle. A dog. He turned his face on the pillow and looked into the eyes of a man sitting on a metal chair against the wall holding a bouquet of flowers. How are you feeling? the man said.
I've felt better. Who are you?
My name is Carson Wells.
Who are you?
I think you know who I am. I brought you some flowers.
Moss turned his head and lay staring at the ceiling. How many of you people are there?
Well, I'd say there's only one you've got to worry about right now.
You.
Yes.
What about that guy that come to the hotel.
We can talk about him.
Talk then.
I can make him go away.
I can do that myself.
I dont think so.
You're entitled to your opinions.
If Acosta's people hadnt shown up when they did I dont think you would have made out so good.
I didnt make out so good.
Yes you did. You made out extremely well.
Moss turned his head and looked at the man again. How long have you been here?
About an hour.
Just settin there.
Yes.
You dont have much to do, do you?
I like to do one thing at a time, if that's what you mean.
You look dumbern hell settin there.
Wells smiled.
Why dont you put them damn flowers down.
All right.
He rose and laid the bouquet on the bedside table and sat back in the chair again.
Do you know what two centimeters is?
Yeah. It's a measurement.
It's about three quarters of an inch.
All right.
That's the distance that round missed your liver by.
Is that what the doctor told you?
Yes. You know what the liver does?
No.
It keeps you alive. Do you know who the man is who shot you?
Maybe he didnt shoot me. Maybe it was one of the Mexicans.
Do you know who the man is?
No. Am I supposed to?
Because he's not somebody you really want to know. The people he meets tend to have very short futures. Nonexistent, in fact.
Well good for him.
You're not listening. You need to pay attention. This man wont stop looking for you. Even if he gets the money back. It wont make any difference to him. Even if you went to him and gave him the money he would still kill you. Just for having inconvenienced him.
I think I done a little more than inconvenience him.
How do you mean.
I think I hit him.
Why do you think that?
I sprayed double ought buckshot all over him. I cant believe it done him a whole lot of good.
Wells sat back in the chair. He studied Moss. You think you killed him?
I dont know.
Because you didnt. He came out into the street and killed every one of the Mexicans and then went back into the hotel. Like you might go out and get a paper or something.
He didnt kill ever one of them.
He killed the ones that were left.
You tellin me he wasnt hit?
I dont know.
You mean why would you tell me.
If you like.
Is he a buddy of yours?
No.
I thought maybe he was a buddy of yours.
No you didnt. How do you know he's not on his way to Odessa?
Why would he go to Odessa?
To kill your wife.
Moss didnt answer. He lay on the rough linen looking at the ceiling. He was in pain and it was getting worse. You dont know what the hell you're talkin about, he said.
I brought you a couple of photographs.
He rose and laid two photos on the bed and sat back down again. Moss glanced at them. What am I supposed to make of that? he said.
I took those pictures this morning. The woman lived in an apartment on the second floor of one of the buildings you shot up. The body's still there.
You're full of shit.
Wells studied him. He turned and looked out the window. You dont have anything to do with any of this, do you?
No.
You just happened to find the vehicles out there.
I dont know what you're talkin about.
You didnt take the product, did you?
What product.
The heroin. You dont have it.
No. I dont have it.
Wells nodded. He looked thoughtful. Maybe I should ask you what you intend to do.
Maybe I should ask you.
I dont intend to do anything. I dont have to. You'll come to me. Sooner or later. You dont have a choice. I'm going to give you my mobile phone number.
What makes you think I wont just disappear?
Do you know how long it took me to find you?
No.
About three hours.
You might not get so lucky again.
No, I might not. But that wouldnt be good news for you.
I take it you used to work with him.
Who.
This guy.
Yes. I did. At one time.
What's his name.
Chigurh.
Sugar?
Chigurh. Anton Chigurh.
How do you know I wont cut a deal with him?
Wells sat bent forward in the chair with his forearms across his knees, his fingers laced together. He shook his head. You're not paying attention, he said.
Maybe I just dont believe what you say.
Yes you do.
Or I might take him out.
Are you in a lot of pain?
Some. Yeah.
You're in a lot of pain. It makes it hard to think. Let me get the nurse.
I dont need you to do me no favors.
All right.
What is he supposed to be, the ultimate bad-ass?
I dont think that's
how I would describe him.
How would you describe him.
Wells thought about it. I guess I'd say that he doesnt have a sense of humor.
That aint a crime.
That's not the point. I'm trying to tell you something.
Tell me.
You cant make a deal with him. Let me say it again. Even if you gave him the money he'd still kill you. There's no one alive on this planet that's ever had even a cross word with him. They're all dead. These are not good odds. He's a peculiar man. You could even say that he has principles. Principles that transcend money or drugs or anything like that.
So why would you tell me about him.
You asked about him.
Why would you tell me.
I guess because I think if I could get you to understand the position you're in it would make my job easier. I dont know anything about you. But I know you're not cut out for this. You think you are. But you're not.
We'll see, wont we?
Some of us will. What did you do with the money?
I spent about two million dollars on whores and whiskey and the rest of it I just sort of blew it in.
Wells smiled. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. He wore an expensive pair of Lucchese crocodile boots. How do you think he found you?
Moss didnt answer.
Have you thought about that?
I know how he found me. He wont do it again.
Wells smiled. Well good on you, he said.
Yeah. Good on me.
There was a pitcher of water on a plastic tray on the bedside table. Moss no more than glanced at it.
Do you want some water? Wells said.
If I want somethin from you you'll be the first son of a bitch to know about it.
It's called a transponder, Wells said.
I know what it's called.
It's not the only way he has of finding you.
Yeah.
I could tell you some things that would be useful for you to know.
Well, I go back to what I just said. I dont need no favors.
You're not curious to know why I'd tell you?
I know why you'd tell me.
Which is?
You'd rather deal with me than with this sugar guy.
Yes. Let me get you some water.
You go to hell.
Wells sat quietly with his legs crossed. Moss looked at him. You think you can scare me with this guy. You dont know what you're talkin about. I'll take you out with him if that's what you want.
Wells smiled. He gave a little shrug. He looked down at the toe of his boot and uncrossed his legs and passed the toe under his jeans to dust it and recrossed his legs again. What do you do? he said.
What?
What do you do.
I'm retired.
What did you do before you retired?
I'm a welder.
Acetylene? Mig? Tig?
Any of it. If it can be welded I can weld it.
Cast iron?
Yes.
I dont mean braze.
I didnt say braze.