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"Sure is." Funny accent, Frank thought. European of some kind. The man was
pointing up the street with his cane. "Just keep on the way you're headed.
The road will curve to the right, then fork. Take the left-hand fork. That'll
put you right back on the main road." Now he turned his attention to the motor
home.
"Interesting contraption you got there. Internal combustion, is it?"
Frank could take a joke as well as any man. "Naw. Nuclear-powered."
The riposte didn't faze the nightwalker. He sniffed. "Don't smell nuclear.
Can't tell much anymore." He touched the side of his nose. "Sinuses.
You know what desert pollen can do to you when it's in season."
"Tell me about it," Frank replied. "We've been to Vegas every year about this
time for the past five years."
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The oldster's eyebrows drew together and the mustache twitched.
"Vegas?"
"Las Vegas," said Alicia encouragingly.
Suddenly Frank saw the light. No wonder the old guy was out walking by himself
in the middle of the night. He was slightly off.
"We had to take a detour," his wife was saying.
"Must've been some detour." The oldster scratched at his nose, sniffed again.
"Never heard of this 'Las Vegas.'" He gestured with his cane once more.
"This is Pass Regulus."
"Maybe in your language," Frank told him, positive now of the man's foreign
origins, "but it'll always be Vegas to us."
The old man thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Like you say, it's
that kind of town. Guess there are lots of names for it, depending on where
you hail from."
"Exactly," said Frank with satisfaction. "Depending on where you're from. That
was straight on, curve right, take the left-hand fork?"
Their guide nodded. "You got it."
"Can we give you a lift?" asked Alicia. Frank growled and she pretended not to
hear him. It didn't matter.
"No, thanks. I'm on duty."
That at least explained what he was doing out here all by himself in the
middle of the night. "What kind of duty?" Frank inquired.
"Night watchman. You folks have a nice time, now. Try not to lose too much
money."
"We'll do our best. We're not big gamblers anyway. I'd rather sit by the pool
and people-watch."
"That's the way to do it." The old man nodded approvingly. "Take care now, and
remember: left-hand fork."
"Thank you." Alicia sent the window up as Frank pulled back out into the
middle of the street. "Didn't you think he was kind of old to be working as a
night watchman, dear?"
"Naw. Some of those old guys might not be able to run down purse snatchers,
but that doesn't mean they still can't shoot straight."
She nodded, then said thoughtfully, "I wonder what language Pass
Regulus means Las Vegas in?"
"Beats me, sweets. Hungarian or something." He glanced at the rearview.
"Mouse?"
"The name is unfamiliar to me, Mr. Sonderberg."
"What about Italian, Pops?" Wendy suggested.
He shook his head. "I don't think so."
"How would you know?" His daughter's voice had regained its normal, healthy
smart-ass tone.
"Because your mother and I have eaten at Mama Genovese's over in Long
Beach ever since we were dating, and this guy didn't sound anything like Mama
Genovese."
The argument over accents continued as Frank followed the curving road until
they came to the fork, just as the old man had predicted. The city lights were
brighter than ever. Frank turned left. A few minutes later they found
themselves out of the industrial area and cruising down a main street.
Alicia stared in puzzlement at the casinos and hotel towers. "I don't
recognize any of this."
Frank didn't reply immediately. They were surrounded by slowly moving traffic
and he was trying to concentrate on his driving. "I don't, either, but
remember we usually come straight from the airport to the hotel. We've never
been in this end of town."
"Maybe that's why everything looks so different. But you'd think we'd have
seen at least one familiar place by now. The Golden Nugget or Silver
Dollar or someplace."
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"Any minute, now. You'll see. Maybe there's been a lot of redevelopment in the
past year."
Alicia looked dubious. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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