The Stingray Shuffle полностью

When the porter was out of sight, Serge reached in his overnight bag and removed an egglike metal object wrapped in orange silk. “My ace in the hole.” He stuffed the grenade in another cool storage nook.

More people headed for Track 12W. Tanner Lebos smiled and spread his arms wide when he spotted his old friend coming down the escalators.

“If it isn’t that good-for-nothing Ralph Krunkleton!”

“Tan!” yelled Ralph. “There you are!”

They met in the middle of the platform and hugged and headed for The Silver Stingray.

“How you been?” asked Tanner.

“Never better.”

“How’d the book signing go in Miami?”

“Raided by police.”

“That’s just Florida,” said Tanner. “Some people exchanged fire at a Tom Clancy deal last month.”

Out on Thirty-fourth, more cabs arrived. A woman in a floral dress got out, followed by a bunch of guys in blue velvet tuxedos. They stopped and looked up at the train station in befuddlement. The Pickpocket Comedian scratched his head. “But I thought you said we were going to play—”

“I know what I said!” snapped Spider. “There’s been a big fuck-up, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it! C’mon!”

The BBB finished squirreling away possessions in their sleepers and headed out. They moved single file up the narrow aisle, hitting the automatic button that opened the door at the front of the car, passing through the connecting chamber, hitting another button, into the dining car. They grabbed a table and called the waiter. “What do you drink on a train?” asked Teresa.

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “A blue caboose?”

“What’s that?”

“Whiskey and Irish Cream and something else, I think.”

“Amaretto,” said the waiter.

“Five blue cabooses,” said Teresa.

“Don’t look now,” Rebecca whispered, “but I think that’s Ralph Krunkleton.”

“That’s him, all right,” said Maria.

“Doesn’t look like the book photo,” said Teresa.

“That was eleven years ago.”

“He’s shorter than I thought.”

“I’m going to get his autograph,” said Maria.

“It’s too soon,” said Sam. “Let him settle in. Don’t embarrass us.”

Ralph was joking around with his agent when a bunch of people climbed aboard. Tanner made the introductions. “Ralph, this is Preston Lancaster, also known as the Great Mez-mo, and Andy Francesco — you might have seen his stuff on Showtime — and Xorack the Mentalist…”

“Xolack.”

“Sorry, Xolack the Mentalist, I can never keep that straight, and Spider — he juggles, quite good, too — and Dee Dee Lowenstein as Carmen Miranda.” Tanner pointed at Bob Kowolski. “Of course you know Steppenwolf.”

Ralph shook hands and smiled, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Tanner had told him he’d branched into live entertainment, but it didn’t quite prepare him.

A new person with stringy long brown hair walked up. Tanner put his arm around the man’s shoulders. “I have a surprise for you. Meet the newest member of your troupe, the drummer for ——.”

Spider pointed at Steppenwolf. “We already got a musical act.”

“I’ve decided to have them perform together as a super group.”

Tanner turned to Ralph. “You’re gonna get a chuckle out of this.” He began pulling books from an overnight bag. “I found these when I went digging for bio material. They’re your old novels. The jacket photos are a scream! Here’s B Is for Bongo. Note the goatee and the fashionable suicidal look. And here’s Bad Trip. What’s with the flowers on that shirt? You look like you played tambourine in Herman’s Hermits…. And here’s Murder at the Watergate. Ralph, is that genuine polyester?”

The laughter finally subsided, and Spider stepped forward. “Mr. Lebos, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but in your phone call, I thought you said we were going to play Carnegie…”

“Almost right,” said Tanner. “The Carnegie car.” He pointed up at a fancy brass sign on the bulkhead.

Preston turned to Spider. “That’s even better! Who wants to play Carnegie when you can play the Carnegie car?”

“Shut up!”

“There’s no slowing this career juggernaut now…”

“I said, shut up!”

“…Next stop, the Hollywood Bowl… public bus!”

Spider grabbed Preston’s collar, and there was a quick, wordless struggle in the aisle. A sleeve ripped.

“Break it up!” said Tanner. “We’ve got rehearsing to do.”

Bruno Litsky cleared his throat. “Uh, Mr. Lebos. I’m still not clear on precisely what it is we’re supposed to be doing.”

“I’m not an actor,” said Andy.

“I’m not even sure what a mystery train is,” said Dee Dee.

“What’s my motivation?” asked Frankie.

“All of you — relax or you’ll give yourselves heart attacks,” said Tanner. “Look at me. Who takes care of you? Huh?”

They stared at the floor and spoke in unison: “You do, Mr. Lebos.”

“That’s right!” said Tanner, holding up his briefcase. “Got your scripts right here. And the props.”

“Scripts?”

“Props?”