No Country for Old Men-第13章

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they　parked　a　ways　from　mosss　truck　and　waited。　its　ten；　torbert　said。

what？

its　ten。　deceased。　we　forgot　about　old　wyrick。　its　ten。

bell　nodded。　that　we　know　about；　he　said。

yessir。　that　we　know　about。

the　helicopter　arrived　and　circled　and　set　down　in　a　whirl　of　dust　out　on　the　bajada。

nobody　got　out。　they　were　waiting　for　the　dust　to　blow　away。　bell　and　torbert　watched　　the　rotor　winding　down。

the　dea　agents　name　was　mcintyre。　bell　knew　him　slightly　and　liked　him　about　well　　enough　to　nod　to。　he　got　out　with　a　clipboard　in　his　hand　and　walked　toward　them。　he　　was　dressed　in　boots　and　hat　and　a　carhartt　canvas　jacket　and　he　looked　all　right　until　　he　opened　his　mouth。

sheriff　bell；　he　said。

agent　mcintyre。

what　vehicle　is　this？

its　a　72　ford　pickup。

mcintyre　stood　looking　out　down　the　bajada。　he　tapped　the　clipboard　against　his　leg。

he　looked　at　bell。　im　happy　to　know　that；　he　said。　white　in　color。

id　say　white。　yes。

could　use　a　set　of　tires。

he　went　over　and　walked　around　the　truck。　he　wrote　on　his　clipboard。　he　looked　inside。

he　folded　the　seat　forward　and　looked　in　the　back。

who　cut　the　tires？

bell　was　standing　with　his　hands　in　his　back　pockets。　he　leaned　and　spat。　deputy　hays　　here　believes　it　was　done　by　a　rival　party。

rival　party。

yessir。

i　thought　these　vehicles　were　all　shot　up。

they　are。

but　not　this　one。

not　this　one。

mcintyre　looked　toward　the　chopper　and　he　looked　down　the　bajada　toward　the　other　　vehicles。　can　i　get　a　ride　down　there　with　you？

sure　you　can。

they　walked　toward　torberts　truck。　the　agent　looked　at　bell　and　he　tapped　the　　clipboard　against　his　leg。　you　dont　intend　to　make　this　easy；　do　you？

hell；　mcintyre。　im　just　messin　with　you。

they　walked　around　in　the　bajada　looking　at　the　shot…up　trucks。　mcintyre　held　a　　kerchief　to　his　nose。　the　bodies　were　bloated　in　their　clothes。　this　is　about　the　　damnedest　thing　i　ever　saw；　he　said。

he　stood　making　notes　on　his　clipboard。　he　paced　distances　and　made　a　rough　sketch　of　　the　scene　and　he　copied　out　the　numbers　off　the　license　plates。

were　there　no　guns　here？　he　said。

not　as　many　as　there　should　of　been。　we　got　two　pieces　in　evidence。

how　long　you　think　theyve　been　dead？

four　or　five　days。

somebody　must　have　got　away。

bell　nodded。　theres　another　body　about　a　mile　north　of　here。

theres　heroin　spilled　in　the　back　of　that　bronco。

yep。

mexican　black　tar。

bell　looked　at　torbert。　torbert　leaned　and　spat。

if　the　heroin　is　missing　and　the　money　is　missing　then　my　guess　is　that　somebody　is　　missing。

id　say　thats　a　reasonable　guess。

mcintyre　continued　writing。　dont　worry；　he　said。　i　know　you　didnt　get　it。

i　aint　worried。

mcintyre　adjusted　his　hat　and　stood　looking　at　the　trucks。　are　the　rangers　ing　out　　here？

rangers　are　in。　or　one　is。　dps　drug　unit。

ive　got　。380s；　。45s；　nine　millimeter　parabellum；　twelve　gauge；　and　。38　special。　did　you　　all　find　anything　else？

i　think　that　was　it。

mcintyre　nodded。　i　guess　the　people　waiting　for　their　dope　have　probably　figured　out　by　　now　that　its　not　ing。　what　about　the　border　patrol？

everbodys　in　as　far　as　i　know。　we　expect　it　to　get　right　lively。　might　could　be　a　　bigger　draw　than　the　flood　back　in　65。

yeah。

what　we　need　is　to　get　these　bodies　out　of　here。

mcintyre　tapped　the　clipboard　against　his　leg。　aint　that　the　truth；　he　said。

nine　millimeter　parabellum；　said　torbert。

bell　nodded。　you　need　to　put　that　in　your　files。

chigurh　picked　up　the　signal　from　the　transponder　ing　across　the　high　span　of　the　　devils　river　bridge　just　west　of　del　rio。　it　was　near　midnight　and　no　cars　on　the　　highway。　he　reached　over　into　the　passenger　seat　and　turned　the　dial　slowly　forward　　and　then　back；　listening。

the　headlights　picked　up　some　kind　of　a　large　bird　sitting　on　the　aluminum　bridgerail　　up　ahead　and　chigurh　pushed　the　button　to　let　the　window　down。　cool　air　ing　in　off　　the　lake。　he　took　the　pistol　from　beside　the　box　and　cocked　and　leveled　it　out　the　　window；　resting　the　barrel　on　the　rearview　mirror。　the　pistol　had　been　fitted　with　a　　silencer　sweated　onto　the　end　of　the　barrel。　the　silencer　was　made　out　of　brass　mapp…　gas　burners　fitted　into　a　hairspray　can　and　the　whole　thing　stuffed　with　fiberglass　　roofing　insulation　and　painted　flat　black。　he　fired　just　as　the　bird　crouched　and　spread　　its　wings。

it　flared　wildly　in　the　lights；　very　white；　turning　and　lifting　away　into　the　darkness。　the　　shot　had　hit　the　rail　and　caromed　off　into　the　night　and　the　rail　hummed　dully　in　the　　slipstream　and　ceased。　chigurh　laid　the　pistol　in　the　seat　and　put　the　window　back　up　　again。

moss　paid　the　driver　and　stepped　out　into　the　lights　in　front　of　the　motel　office　and　　slung　the　bag　over　his　shoulder　and　shut　the　cab　door　and　turned　and　went　in。　the　　woman　was　already　behind　the　counter。　he　set　the　bag　in　the　floor　and　leaned　on　the　　counter。　she　looked　a　little　flustered。　hi；　she　said。　you　fixin　to　stay　a　while？

i　need　another　room。

you　want　to　change　rooms　or　you　want　another　one　besides　the　one　youve　got？

i　want　to　keep　the　one　i　got　and　get　another　one。

all　right。

have　you　got　a　map　of　the　motel？

she　looked　under　the　counter。　there　used　to　be　a　sort　of　a　one。　wait　a　minute。　i　think　　this　is　it。

she　laid　an　old　brochure　on　the　counter。　it　showed　a　car　from　the　fifties　parked　in　front。

he　unfolded　it　and　flattened　it　out　and　studied　it。

what　about　one　forty…two？

you　can　have　one　next　to　yours　if　you　want　it。　one…twenty　aint　took。

thats　all　right。　what　about　one　forty…two？

she　reached　and　got　the　key　off　the　board　behind　her。　youll　owe　for　two　nights；　she　　said。

he　paid　and　picked　up　the　bag　and　walked　out　and　turned　down　the　walkway　at　the　rear　　of　the　motel。　she　leaned　over　the　counter　watching　him　go。

in　the　room　he　sat　on　the　bed　with　the　map　spread　out。　he　got　up　and　went　into　the　　bathroom　and　stood　in　the　tub　with　his　ear　to　the　wall。　a　tv　was　playing　somewhere。

he　went　back　and　sat　and　unzipped　the　bag　and　took　out　the　shotgun　and　laid　it　to　one　　side　and　then　emptied　the　bag　out　onto　the　bed。

he　took　the　screwdriver　and　got　the　chair　from　the　desk　and　stood　on　it　and　unscrewed　　the　airduct　grille　and　stepped　down　and　laid　it　dustside　up　on　the　cheap　chenille　　bedspread。　then　he　climbed　up　and　put　his　ear　to　the　duct。　he　listened。　he　stood　down　　and　got　the　flashlight　and　climbed　back　up　again。

there　was　a　junction　in　the　ductwork　about　ten　feet　down　the　shaft　and　he　could　see　the　　end　of　the　bag　sticking　out。　he　turned　off　the　light　and　stood　listening。　he　tried　listening　　with　his　eyes　shut。

he　climbed　down　and　got　the　shotgun　and　went　to　the　door　and　turned　off　the　light　at　　the　switch　there　and　stood　in　the　dark　looking　out　through　the　curtain　at　the　courtyard。

then　he　went　back　and　laid　the　shotgun　on　the　bed　and　turned　on　the　flashlight。

he　untied　the　little　nylon　bag　and　slid　the　poles　out。　they　were　lightweight　aluminum　　tubes　three　feet　long　and　he　assembled　three　of　them　and　taped　the　joints　with　duct　tape　　so　that　they　wouldnt　pull　apart。　he　went　to　the　closet　and　came　back　with　three　wire　　hangers　and　sat　on　the　bed　and　cut　the　hooks　off　with　the　sidecutters　and　wrapped　them　　into　one　hook　with　the　tape。　then　he　taped　them　to　the　end　of　the　pole　and　stood　up　and　　slid　the　pole　down　the　ductwork。

he　turned　the　flashlight　off　and　pitched　it　onto　the　bed　and　went　back　to　the　window　　and　looked　out。　drone　of　a　truck　passing　out　on　the　highway。　he　waited　till　it　was　gone。

a　cat　that　was　crossing　the　courtyard　stopped。　then　it　went　on　again。

he　stood　on　the　chair　with　the　flashlight　in　his　hand。　he　turned　on　the　light　and　laid　the　　lens　up　close　against　the　galvanized　metal　wall　of　the　duct　so　as　to　mute　the　beam　and　　ran　the　hook　down　past　the　bag　and　turned　it　and　brought　it　back。　the　hook　caught　and　　turned　the　bag　slightly　and　then　slipped　free　again。　after　a　few　tries　he　managed　to　get　it　　caught　in　one　of　the　straps　and　he　towed　it　silently　up　the　duct　hand　over　hand　through　　the　dust　until　he　could　let　go　the　pole　and　reach　the　bag。

he　climbed　down　and　sat　on　the　bed　and　wiped　the　dust　from　the　case　and　unfastened　　the　latch　and　the　straps　and　opened　it　and　looked　at　the　packets　of　bills。　he　took　one　of　　them　from　the　case　and　riffled　it。　then　he　fitted　it　back　and　undid　the　length　of　cord　hed　　tied　to　the　strap　and　turned　off　the　flashlight　and　sat　listening。　he　stood　and　reached　up　　and　shoved　the　poles　down　the　duct　and　then　he　put　back　the　grid　and　gathered　up　his　　tools。　he　laid　the　key　on　the　desk　and　put　the　shotgun　and　the　tools　in　the　bag　and　took　　it　and　the　case　and　walked　out　the　door　leaving　everything　just　as　it　was。

chigurh　drove　slowly　along　the　row　of　motel　rooms　with　the　window　down　and　the　　receiver　in　his　lap。　he　turned　at　the　end　of　the　lot　and　came　back。　he　slowed　to　a　stop　　and　put　the　ramcharger　in　reverse　and　backed　slightly　down　the　blacktop　and　stopped　　again。　finally　he　drove　around　to　the　office　and　parked　and　went　in。

the　clock　on　the　motel　office　wall　said　twelve　forty…two。　the　television　set　was　on　and　　the　woman　looked　like　shed　been　asleep。　yessir；　she