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Richard Ford: The Ultimate Good Luck

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Richard Ford The Ultimate Good Luck

The Ultimate Good Luck: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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In this novel of menace and eroticism, Richard Ford updates the tradition of Conrad for the age of cocaine smuggling. The setting is Oaxaca, Mexico, where Harry Quinn has come to free his girlfriend's brother, Sonny, from Jail and, ideally, to get him away form the suavely sadistic drug dealer who suspects Sonny of having cheated him. "His prose has a taut, cinematic quality that bathes his story with the same hot, mercilessly white light that scorches Mexico."-

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Quinn sat back on his stool and looked at the whore behind Sonny. He could see the backs of her calves where she had the stool straddled like a seesaw. Her toes were holding the concrete to keep the kid in the T-shirt from prying her off onto the floor. The kid’s eyes were darting and his mouth had a frozen look of purpose. He was trying to reach something inside her that no one had ever reached before.

“They think what?” Quinn said.

“They think he makes the deal and lets himself be arrested,” Bernhardt said calmly. He was staring at Sonny bemused. He ran his thumb down his jawline, then leaned on it.

“That’s crazy, isn’t it? Isn’t that fucking crazy?” Quinn looked at Sonny hopefully. “You didn’t to that, did you?”

Sonny tried to look insulted. “No way,” he said. “I’m mules. That’s it.” He started to raise his hands off the tabletop, then set them down again.

“That’s crazy,” Quinn said to Bernhardt.

“It is not impossible,” Bernhardt said calmy and adjusted his glasses. Something in Sonny’s face seemed to interest him, as though all his features had become more complicated. “It’s happened before,” he said. “Though not to my client.”

“In here?” Quinn said. “To want to get in here?”

“One can arrange to get out,” Bernhardt said. He raised his eyebrows. The muscles of his jaw rose beneath his cheeks.

Sonny looked at Bernhardt and Quinn quickly as if things were going wacko now. He made his ponytail swing. “No way,” he said. “I don’t own insides.”

Quinn didn’t like the edge in Sonny’s voice. He couldn’t figure out what was causing it and he didn’t like that. “Are you fucking on me, Sonny?” he said.

Sonny’s face got pale. “Look man,” Sonny said, “don’t bullshit me now.”

He was pissed all at once, but under wraps. He didn’t want to go in next. “I’m not shitting you . Why should I shit you? I’m down here to get you fucking out of this shit hole, you douche bag, and all of a sudden you don’t sound right. You understand what I mean? You don’t sound right to me. And I don’t have a plan for that.” He wanted to hear something to make sense or he was going to pack everything in the minute Rae got off the plane.

“Who is the man?” Bernhardt said intently, leaning forward.

Sonny breathed deeply and closed his hands around the paper sack as if it contained all his hopes and he was having to give it up. “A spade,” he said and breathed again very deeply. “Deats. A guy named Deats.”

“Who does he work for?” Bernhardt said.

“L.A. people. I don’t know them. I’ve seen him before at the Lakers’ games, you know. He’s a big player.”

“So is he a pal of yours?” Quinn said.

“I don’t know him.” Sonny shook his head in a bewildered way. “He’s inside. I’m not inside.”

“What did he say to you?” Bernhardt asked. He was being methodical now.

Sonny gripped the neck of the sack and licked his lips. “That he wanted the stuff.”

“Why does he think you took it?” Quinn said.

“He said the police only took two pounds off me, and he paid for four.” Sonny looked across at Bernhardt.

“What did you pick up?” Bernhardt said deliberately. “How many kilograms?”

Sonny shook his head. “I just pick up packages. I don’t weigh it. Weighing’s their business. I left the money in my hotel room, took a walk on the zócalo, and when I came back there were two packages on the bed. That’s what the federates got.”

Quinn looked at Bernhardt. “They must’ve copped it on him, right? Say that’s right.”

Bernhardt pushed out his lower lip and studied Sonny. “If it goes, it goes high up,” he said. “For the police there is more money in doing things correctly.” He smacked his lips and looked at Sonny matter-of-factly. “Do you have it?” he said.

Whatever Sonny had popped on had burned off in sixty seconds. His face was gaunt and his eyes looked ruined. He looked to Quinn like somebody who’d run a long way without stopping, for the first time in his life. “No,” he said almost silently and shook his head.

“And you don’t know who anybody is?” Quinn said.

“L.A. people,” Sonny said softly. “I know a guy in L.A. He pays me. It comes through Mexico because it’s safer than straight up. But I don’t meet anybody down here. I just mule.” He looked up pitiably. “I’m not smart enough. You understand?”

“How much time did he give you?” Bernhardt said, interrupted by some low moaning coming from the whore on the stool. Bernhardt turned to look at her.

“He didn’t say.” Sonny stared at Bernhardt expressionless, waiting for his attention to come back. He was wanting a miracle. Quinn knew the look, though he didn’t care about it on Sonny. His face just wasn’t useful to what he felt.

“You fucking putz,” he said and sighed. He wanted to let Sonny take it all down. But there wasn’t even any way for that now. He was in too far.

Sonny looked like he might cry. “It’s a setup,” he said. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Who’s supposed to be set up?” Quinn said. “You? Are you worth setting up, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” Sonny said and shook his head pathetically.

Bernhardt stood up. The whore had finished making noise and was sitting straight on her stool, fanning her cheeks with her hand. The boy looked radiant. The room was quiet except for the fan at the end, and the sound of the guards’ feet scuffing. “Try to stay tranquilo,” Bernhardt said courteously.

Sonny opened his mouth to speak, but Bernhardt wasn’t listening. He had started toward the exit.

“What’s happening?” Sonny said. He seemed amazed.

“You fucked this up,” Quinn said. “This was slick, and now it’s fucked up.”

“What’re you going to do?” Sonny said.

“Guess,” Quinn said.

Sonny looked pathetic again. “When’s Rae coming?” he said.

Bernhardt was already out the door. “Don’t think about her,” Quinn said. “Just pretend she doesn’t exist.”

“This is dumb,” Sonny said. “Jesus this is so goddamned dumb.”

“Is that right?” Quinn said. “You’re a fucking genius, man. I don’t know how you ever got in here.” He walked down between the rows of tables toward the blank wall where the exit was.

4

THE HIGH MOUNTAIN on the west valleyside had lost the sun and blackened down to the color of green without light. In the winter, chaparral fires blossomed in the steep inclines and defiles, hanging a mask of haze to the terminus of the valley. The fire burned for weeks, and people stopped noticing it, and after a while the smoke just became part of the landscape. It was, Quinn thought, the way you got yourself used to everything. It was like imagination, and then it was the way things were. And then you couldn’t tell the difference.

“So how do we find this guy?” he said. Rae would be here too soon and things weren’t falling out just right.

“It won’t be difficult.” Bernhardt adjusted his glasses with his thumb and fingers, then squinted over the steering wheel toward Monte Albán, clear in the open distance west, where there were still morning light windows on the precipices. Bernhardt was driving fast, “What would your wife’s brother do for money?” he said calmly.

“Nothing that big,” Quinn said. “He couldn’t lay off that much.”

“He could mail it to an apartado in the States, a dummy.” Bernhardt seemed to enjoy the speculation.

“He’s too little.”

“A great deal of trouble can be caused by little liars. You understand?” Bernhardt looked at him appraisingly.

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