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Hastily he began trying to dig himself out from beneath the track of the bulldozer。 The task was arduous。 Being pinned on his tummy； Mr。 Gash was forced to reach behind himself and work his arms like turtle flippers。 After twenty grueling minutes Mr。 Gash quit in exhaustion。 He fell asleep with a centipede skittling across his shoulder blade。 He was too weary to slap it away。
Hours later a helicopter awakened him。 It was daylight； a high rose…tinged sky。 Mr。 Gash couldn't see the chopper but he could hear the eggbeater percussion of the rotors as it landed nearby。 He lifted his head and gave an unholy wail； pain had found him。 Horrible； nerve…shearing； bone…snapping pain。 He observed； despairingly； that all his frantic digging had acplished little。 A pitiable few handfuls of dirt had been scalloped around each leg； upon which the Caterpillar D6 remained steadfastly parked。 Mr。 Gash could not drag himself a single millimeter out from under it。 After a third attempt； he gave up。
Instead of escape； he now focused on survival。 The helicopter； of course。 It would be lifting off soon…Mr。 Gash could tell by the accelerating whine of the engines。 Anxiously he scanned the ground within his reach； searching for something； anything； to draw the pilot's attention。 His eyes fixed upon a silky…looking wad in the muck。 It was the crazy bum's skirt…the checkered racing flag； now lavishly spotted with Mr。 Gash's dried blood。 He snatched it up and shook off the loose dirt。
With a head…splitting roar； a black…and…gray jet helicopter appeared over the spires of the pines。 With both hands Mr。 Gash raised the checkered flag。 He began a wildly exaggerated wave； flopping his upper body back and forth like a rubber windshield wiper。 It was a pletely new experience for Mr。 Gash： desperation。 He swung the flag with the fervor of a drunken soccer hooligan； for he feared the pilot couldn't see him； grime…smeared and half…interred beneath a bulldozer。
He was right。 The chopper circled the clearing once but didn't hover。 It banked sharply to the north and hummed off。
The flag dropped from Mr。 Gash's hands。 He was in the purest mortal agony。 From the waist down： dead。 From the waist up： every cell a burning cinder。 His head thundered。 His arms were cement。 His throat was broken glass on the scabby nub of his tongue。 Sickening trickles ran down the fuzz of both jaw…lines； all the way to Mr。 Gash's chin…warm blood from his ears。
That fucking troublemaker of a bum had been right。 It was over。
Or maybe not。
Mr。 Gash noticed a small object on the ground； something he couldn't have spotted in the dark。 It lay a few precious feet out of reach； partially hidden by a palmetto frond。
It was black and rectangular and plastic…looking； like the remote control of a VCR； or the clip to a Glock。
Or a cellular telephone。
Mr。 Gash used a broken branch to retrieve it。 Woozily； he mashed at the power button with his forefinger。 The phone emitted a perky bleep and lit up with a peachy glow。 Mr。 Gash stared at the numbers on the keypad。 A desolate smirk came to his whitening lips。
Palmer Stoat said； 〃Good news； Bob。〃
〃Better be。〃
They met at noon in Pube's； this time in a champagne booth reserved for private friction dancing。
Stoat said； 〃Remember the other night we were here？ Well； I got a date afterward with one of the Pamela Anderson Lees。〃
〃You're a pig；〃 Robert Clapley remarked mirthlessly。
〃Back to the bachelor life for me。 I'm moving on！〃
〃That's your news？〃
〃No；〃 said Palmer Stoat。 〃The news is big。〃
Clapley looked as if he hadn't slept in a year。 Sullenly he fingered the gold link chain on his neck。 A dancer approached the table and introduced herself as Cindi with an i。 Clapley gave her a ten and sent her away。
Stoat said； 〃I take it you haven't found your Barbies。〃
〃They called me。〃
〃Hey！ It's a start。〃
〃From the residence of Mr。 Avalon Brown。〃 Robert Clapley took a slug of bourbon。 〃Mr。 Brown is recruiting investors for his newest feature…film project。 Katya and Tish thought it would be nice of me to help out。 They； of course； would get starring roles in the movie。〃
〃Which is titled 。。。 〃
〃Double Your Pleasure。〃
〃Ah。 An art film。〃 Palmer Stoat smiled miseratingly。 〃And how much have you agreed to invest？〃
〃For a hundred thousand dollars； Mr。 Avalon Brown promises to make me a full partner；〃 Clapley said。 〃For a tenth of that； I could have him killed。〃
Inwardly； Stoat shuddered。 A messy homicide scandal could wreck everything： the Shearwater deal； Dick Artemus's reelection chances and （last but not least） Stoat's own career。
He lay a consoling hand on Clapley's shoulder。 〃Bob； for the last time； forget about those two tramps。 You've got to move on； the way I'm moving on。〃
〃I can't。〃
〃Sure you can。 Join me on the Palmer pussy patrol。〃
Clapley said； 〃Know what I've got in my pants？〃
〃Dolls？〃
〃Righto。〃
〃How many？〃 Stoat asked dispiritedly。
〃Two in each pocket。〃
〃These would be the Vibrator Barbies？〃
〃Screw you。 Palmer。 I miss the twins。 I want them back；〃 Robert Clapley said； waving off another dancer。 〃They say I don't help with the movie； they're cutting off all their hair and moving to Kingston。〃
〃Sunny Jamaica。〃
〃World headquarters of Avalon Brown Productions。〃
〃Let 'em go；〃 Stoat said。 〃I'm begging you。〃
〃Are you deaf？ It's not going to happen。〃 Clapley gave a brittle laugh。 〃That's why men like Mr。 Gash exist…and prosper。 Because of situations like this。〃
Stoat said； 〃Speaking of which； here's some of that good news I promised。 That pesky problem we've been having up at Toad Island is all taken care of。 The kid who grabbed my dog is in the hospital with a forty…five…caliber hole in his chest。〃
〃Fantastic！ That means Mr。 Gash is available for a new job。〃
〃I don't know about Mr。 Gash。 My information es directly from the governor；〃 Stoat said； 〃and he wasn't too clear on the details。 The important thing is； that nutty kid is finally out of the picture。 And； oh yeah； Desie and Boodle are OK； too。 Not that I give a shit。〃
Robert Clapley found himself gazing past Stoat； at a dancer performing in a nearby booth。 She had long golden hair； high conical breasts and pouty lacquered lips。
〃Close。〃 Clapley was talking strictly to himself。 〃If only she was taller。〃
〃Jesus Hubbard Christ。 You want to hear the rest； or you want to go diddle with your dollies？〃 Palmer Stoat unsheathed a Cohiba and fired it up with a flourish。 He took his sweet time。
Without looking away from the woman； Clapley said； 〃Tell me about the bridge money。 Tell me it's all set。〃
〃We're almost there； Bob。 It's ninety…nine percent a done deal。〃
〃Who's the one percent？〃
〃Willie Vasquez…Washington。〃
〃Again！〃
〃Don't worry。 He's almost there。〃
Robert Clapley sneered。 〃I've heard that one before。 How tall you think that girl is？ The blonde。〃
〃Gee； Bob； it's awful hard to tell while she's got her feet hooked behind her ears。〃
〃I assume you've got another plan。〃
〃Oh； a good one。〃
〃Do tell。〃
〃We're taking Rainbow Willie on a hunting trip。 You； me； and Governor Dick。 At that private game reserve I told you about up in Marion County；〃 St