The janitor smiled, then went back to work, pushing his mop
against the marble floor, doing all one man could to wipe out the
slow, recurrent stain.
“Peace be upon you,” the janitor said to himself, “and on every
goddamn body.”
2. Checkmate
Roy lay all alone in his small room that now correctly delimited the
boundaries of his pathetic life. A half hour earlier he had entertained
yet another former associate. Only this one called in from far away.
“Crash?” Roy said into the phone.
“Roy! I read about your arrest. What a calamity. How did this
happen to you?”
“I found the fruit from the tree of life. After five thousand years
it seems it’s still a controlled substance.”
“Well you must get out of there, and when you do, find me. I’ve
made a fortune from selling that golden goblet. I’ve bought a little
piece of paradise with the windfall.”
“Crash, I’m not getting out of here. They’re going to lock me up
forever.”
“Well, if you escape, my friend, come to my island in the sun.
Your African Eve will be waiting. And Calypso too! Good luck getting
ou—”
The prison censor broke in, “This call is over. There will be no
escapes from this prison.”
Crash hollered, “Smart aleck!” and the line went dead.
Now what had he meant by all that?
Crash could not say where he was. It was a code.
The guard took the phone from him. “You’ve got more visitors,
Makonnen. You’re a popular little crook, aren’t you?”
Roy prayed for good news. He was led again into the room with
the transparent walls to find a set of dour compatriots. And they
seemed to be wearing disguises. Colin was wearing a wig and Bennie
was dressed like a minister. A stranger was with them as well.
“I’ve got some bad news,” Colin said.
“Bad olds,” Roy said.
“Things didn’t go exactly as planned. Seems that when it comes
to catastrophe, we’re better than we thought.”
ABYSSINIA
370
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