She held Danny Pogue’s crutch (mending quickly, he was down to one) while he slipped the camera bag over his right shoulder. “The tram’s coming,” she announced. “Better get moving.”
As the men hobbled away, Molly called out cheerfully and waved good-bye, as if she were their mother, or a loving old aunt.
With a trace of fondness, Danny Pogue said, “Look at her.”
“Look at us,” said Bud Schwartz. “Real fucking pros.”
“Well, at least it’s for a good cause. You know, saving them butterflies.”
Bud Schwartz eyed his partner in a clinical way. “Danny, you ever had a CAT scan?”
“A what?”
“Nothing.”
The burglars were huffing pretty heavily by the time they made it to the tram. They climbed on the last car, along with a family of nine from Minneapolis. Every one of them had sandy hair and Nordic-blue eyes and eyebrows so blond they looked white in the sunlight.
A little girl of about seven turned to Danny Pogue and asked what had happened to his foot.
“I got shot,” he said candidly.
The little girl flashed a glance at her mother, whose eyes widened.
“A tetanus shot,” said Bud Schwartz. “He stepped on a rusty nail.”
The mother’s eyes softened with relief. “Where are you from?” she asked the men.
“Portugal,” said Danny Pogue, trying to live up to the tourist act.
“Portugal, Ohio,” Bud Schwartz said, thinking: There is no hope for this guy; he simply can’t be allowed to speak.
The tiny blond girl piped up: “We heard on the radio that the whale died yesterday. Orky the whale.”
“Oh no,” said Danny Pogue. “You sure?”
The tram rolled to a stop in front of the main gate, where the burglars got off. Nodding good-bye to the blond Minneapolitans, Bud Schwartz and Danny Pogue slipped into the throng and located the shortest line at the ticket turnstiles.
In a gruff tone, Bud Schwartz said, “Portugal? What kind of fuckhead answer is that?”
“I don’t know, Bud. I don’t know a damn thing about tourists or where they come from.”
“Then don’t say anything, you understand?” Bud Schwartz got out the money that Molly had given them to buy the admission tickets. He counted out thirty-six dollars and handed the cash to his partner.
“Just hold up one finger, that’s all you gotta do,” said Bud Schwartz. “One finger means one ticket. Don’t say a goddamn thing.”
“All right,” Danny Pogue said. “Man, I can’t believe the whale croaked, can you?”
“Shut up,” said Bud Schwartz. “I’m not kidding.”
Danny Pogue didn’t seem the least bit nervous about returning to the scene of their crime. To him the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills was a terrific place, and he strutted around with a permanent grin. Bud Schwartz thought: He’s worse than these damn kids.
Outside the Magic Mansion, Danny Pogue stopped to shake hands with Petey Possum. A tourist lady from Atlanta took a photograph, and Danny Pogue begged her to send him a copy. At this point Bud Schwartz considered ditching the dumb shit altogether and pulling the job alone.
Golf duds and all, Bud Schwartz was antsy about being back on the premises so soon after” the rat-napping; it went against his long-standing aversion to dumb risk. He wanted to hurry up and get the hell out.
It wasn’t easy locating Francis X. Kingsbury’s office because it didn’t appear on any of the colorful maps or diagrams posted throughout the amusement park. Bud Schwartz and Danny Pogue checked closely; there was the Cimarron Trail Ride, Orky’s Undersea Paradise, the Wet Willy, the Jungle Jerry Amazon Boat Cruise, Bigfoot Mountain, Excitement Boulevard, and so on, with no mention of the administration building. Bud Schwartz decided Kingsbury’s headquarters must be somewhere in the geographic center of the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills, and for security reasons probably wasn’t marked.
“Why don’t we ask somebody?” Danny Pogue suggested.
“Very smart,” said Bud Schwartz. “I got a better idea. Why don’t we just paint the word ‘thief’ in big red letters on our goddamn foreheads?”
Danny Pogue wasn’t sure why his partner was in such a lousy mood. The Kingdom was awesome, fantastic, sensational. Everywhere they went, elves and fairy princesses and happy animal characters waved or shook hands or gave a hug.