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on the road for several days straight； apparently drinking the whole time。 The driver； a shaggy blond with greenish teeth； leered and yelled an obscenity up at Bonnie Lamb。 With one hand Augustine reached behind his seat and got the small rifle。 Bracing it against the doorpost； he fired a tranquilizer dart cleanly into the belly of the redneck driver； who yipped and pitched sideways into the lap of one of his pals。
〃Manners；〃 said Augustine。 He gunned the truck； nudging the stalled Ford off the pavement。
Bonnie Lamb thought： God； what am I doing？
They broke camp at midnight…Max Lamb； the rhesus monkey and the man who called himself Skink。 Max was grateful that the man had allowed him to put on his shoes； because they walked for hours in pitch darkness through deep swamp and spiny thickets。 Max's bare legs stung from the scratches and itched from the bug bites。 He was terribly hungry but didn't plain； knowing the man had saved him the rump of the dead raccoon that was boiled for dinner。 Max wanted no part of it。
They came to a canal。 Skink untied Max's hands； unbuckled the shock collar and ordered him to swim。 Max was halfway across when he saw the blue…black alligator slide out of the sawgrass。 Skink told him to quit whimpering and kick； he himself swam with the rejuvenated monkey perched on his head。 One huge hand held Max's precious Sony and the remote control for the dog collar high above the water。
After scrabbling ashore； Max said； 〃Captain； can we rest？〃
〃Ever seen a leech before？ 'Cause there's a good one on your cheek。〃
After Max Lamb finished flaying himself； Skink retied his wrists and refastened the dog collar。 Then he sprayed him down with insect repellent。 Max croaked out a thank…you。
〃Where are we？〃 he asked。
〃The Everglades；〃 Skink replied。 〃More or less。〃
〃You promised I could call my wife。〃
〃Soon。〃
They headed west； trudging through palmettos and pinelands shredded by the storm。 The monkey scampered ahead； foraging wild berries and fruit buds。
Max said： 〃Are you going to kill me？〃
Skink stopped walking。 〃Every time you ask that stupid question； you're going to get it。〃 He set the remote on the weakest setting。
〃Ready？〃
Max Lamb clenched his lips。 Skink stung him with a light jolt。 The tourist twitched stoically。 Soon they came to a Miccosukee village； which was not as badly damaged as Max Lamb would have imagined。 Since the Indians were awake； cooking food； Max assumed it would soon be dawn。 In open doorways the children gathered shyly to look at the two strange white men： Skink with his brambly hair； ill…fitting eye and mangy monkey； Max Lamb in his dirty underwear and dog collar。
Skink stopped at a wooden house and spoke quietly to a Miccosukee elder； who brought out a cellular phone。 As he untied Max's hands； Skink warned： 〃One call is all you get。 He says the battery's running low。〃
Max realized that he didn't know how to reach his wife。 He had no idea where she was。 So he called their apartment in New York and spoke to the answering machine： 〃Honey； I've been kidnapped…〃
〃Abducted！〃 Skink broke in。 〃Kidnapping implies ransom； Max。 Don't fucking flatter yourself。〃
〃OK； 'abducted。' Honey； I've been abducted。 I can't say very much except I'm fine； all things considered。 Please call my folks； and also call Pete up at Rodale about the Bronco billboard project。 Tell him the race car should be red； not blue。 The file's on my desk。。。。 Bonnie； I'm not sure who's got me； or why； but I guess I'll find out soon enough。 God； I hope you pick up this message…〃
Skink snatched the phone。 〃I love you； Bonnie；〃 he said。 〃Max forgot to tell you； so I will。 Bye now。〃
They ate with the Miccosukees； who declined Skink's offer of boiled coon but generously shared helpings of fried panfish； yams； cornmeal muffins and citrus juice。 Max Lamb ate heartily but； mindful of the electric dog collar； said little。 After breakfast； Skink tied him to a cypress post and disappeared with several men of the tribe。 When he returned； he declared it was time to leave。
Max said； 〃Where's my stuff？〃 He was worried about his billfold and clothes。
〃Right here。〃 Skink jerked a thumb toward his backpack。
〃And my Sony？〃
〃Gave it to the old man。 He's got seven grandchildren； so he'll have a ball。〃
〃What about my tapes？〃
Skink laughed。 〃He loved 'em。 That monkey attack was something special。 Max； lift your arms。〃 He spritzed the prisoner with more bug juice。
Max Lamb； somberly： 〃That Handycam retails for about nine hundred bucks。〃
〃It's not like I gave it away。 I traded。〃
〃For what？〃
Skink chucked him on the shoulder。 〃I'll bet you've never been on an airboat。〃
〃Oh no。 Please。〃
〃Hey； you wanted to see Florida。〃
It wasn't easy being a black Highway Patrol trooper in Florida。 It was even harder if you were involved intimately with a white trooper； the way Jim Tile was involved with Brenda Rourke。
They'd met at a training seminar about the newest gadgets for clocking speeders。 In the classroom they were seated next to each other。 Jim Tile liked Brenda Rourke right away。 She had a sane and healthy outlook on the job； and she made him laugh。 They traded stories about freaky traffic stops； lousy pay and the impossible FHP bureaucracy。 Because he was black； and few fellow officers were； Jim Tile rarely felt fortable in a roomful of state troopers。 But he felt fine next to Brenda Rourke； partly because she was a minority； too； the Highway Patrol employed even fewer women than blacks or Latins。
During one session； a buzz…cut redneck shot a rat…eyed look at Jim Tile to remind him that Trooper Rourke was a white girl； and that still counted for plenty in parts of Florida。 Jim Tile didn't get up and move； he kept his seat beside Brenda。 It took the cracker trooper only about two hours to quit glaring。
At the lunch break； Jim Tile and Brenda Rourke went to an Arby's。 She was worried about her uping transfer to South Florida； Jim Tile couldn't say much to allay her fears。 She said she was studying Spanish； in preparation for road duty in Miami。 The first phrase she'd learned was： Sale del carro con las manos arriba。 Out of the car with your hands up！
At the time； Jim Tile held no romantic intentions。 Brenda Rourke was a nice person； that was all。 He never even asked if she had a boyfriend。 A few months later； when he was down in Dade County for a trial； he ran into her at FHP headquarters。 Later they went to dinner and then to Brenda's apartment； where they were up until three in the morning； chatting； of all things… initially out of nervousness； and later out of an easy intimacy。 The trial lasted six days； and every night Jim Tile found himself back at Brenda's place。 Every morning they awakened exactly as they'd fallen asleep… her head in the crook of his right shoulder； his feet hanging off the short bed。 He'd never felt so peaceful。 After the trial ended and Jim Tile returned to North Florida； he and Brenda took turns muting for long weekends。
He wasn't much of a talker； but Brenda could drag