Norman clocked them doing 85 going north on the 405, a late model ivory Caddy, he switched on the red, they saw him and slowed. He waved them to the turn-off. They took it and he followed them down. It was 11:55 p.m. on a Wednesday night. But instead of stopping on the main boulevard the Caddy took a quick left and stopped at a residential street, flicked the lights off and sat there. Norman parked behind them, called in a check on the license. Then he got off the cycle and walked toward the driver's side with his ticket book.

The driver was a woman, about 32
with dyed red hair. She was smoking a
cigarillo. Her only attire were a pair of
brown, scratched boots and dirty pink
panties. Her breasts were immense. On
one of them were tattooed the words
LOVE IS SHIT. That must have hurt.
Two fat men in their mid-forties
were in the back seat. The back seat
also contained a bar, a TV and a
telephone. The fat men looked very
prosperous and relaxed.
"Your license, please, mam..."
"My license is up my ass," said the
woman.
"That's Blanche, officer," said one of
the men. "Now, Blanche, show the
officer your license."
"It's up my ass," said Blanche.
"I'm going to have to cite you, mam,
for indecent exposure, speeding and, if
you persist in your actions, resisting
arrest...'
Blanche turned her face full toward
Norman. She spit out the cigarrillo.
Her large lipstick mouth snarled,
showing broken yellow teeth.
"Shit, man, whatya mean? Under
arrest? For fuckin' WHAT?"
"Your license, please."
"My license? Here's my fuckin'
license! Take a good look at it!"
Blanche took two hands and lifted
her huge left breast which she plopped
out over the edge of the window.
"Blanche," said the same fat man
who had spoken before, "show the
officer your license.'
"Officer," said the other fat man,
"we're sorry for all this. Blanche is
very upset. Her sister died in Cleveland
last night."
"Your licence, please, mam..."
"Ah, kiss my pussy!"
Norman stepped back.
"All right, everybody out of the car!"
"Ah shit," said one of the fat men.
The other was on the telephone:
"Hey, Bernie, we're being busted. Any
instructions? Yeah? Really? O.K."
"Everybody out," Norman repeated,
"NOW!"
He walked back to his cycle to radio
in for a squad car.
"HEY!"
It was one of the fat men, the
heaviest one. He ran up as well as he
could. He was dressed in an expensive
green suit. The suit was neatly fitted to
mold about each of his curves of fat.
"Officer! Look! You dropped some-
thing! Lucky I saw it! Here!"
He placed six crisp new one hundred
dollar bills into Norman's hand.
Norman looked at the bills, hesitated a
moment, then handed them back.
"For your sake, I'll pretend you never
attempted to bribe me."
The fat man rolled up the bills,
jammed them into his pocket. He took
out a cigar, lit it with a diamond-
studded lighter. His eyes-what there
were of them-narrowed.
"You know, you guys who always
follow the book, you never get any-
where, it's all dead-end. And I mean,
dead-end."
Meanwhile, back at the ivory Caddy,
Blanche sat on the hood. She had lit a
new cigarillo and was looking into the
sky trying to locate the Milky Way.
The other fat man left the car and
walked back toward the cycle. He was
wearing an orange jumpsuit with
kangaroo skin shoes. Around his neck
was a huge silver cross, it was hollow
inside but full, full of cocaine. An ugly
film almost covered his entire left eye.
But the right eye peered out, a specious
but doom-filled green.
"Whatsa matter, Eddie, don't he
take?"
"We got a cub Scout here, Marvin."
"That's sad."
"It's worse than sad. And it's too
damned bad."
Norman picked up the mike to make
his call.
Eddie pulled out the snub-nose.
"Put down the mike, officer. Please."
Norman did.
Marvin moved around behind him.
Undid his holster. Took his gun. Then
lifted his club.
Eddie motioned with the snub-nose.
"All right, officer, take the stroll
back to the Caddy."
Norman walked back toward the car
thinking, doesn't anybody see this?
Where the hell is the citizenry when
a cop really needs them?
For some reason he remembered the
argument he had had with his wife
before leaving for work. It had gotten
pretty ugly. And had been over
nothing. About where they would go
on his vacation. She had wanted
Hawaii. He had wanted Vegas.
"Hold it Boy Scout."
They stopped while Marvin opened
the rear trunk.
Are they going to put me in there?
thought Norman.
But Marvin just tossed in Norman's
gun and club, locked the trunk.
They moved on toward the Caddy.
Blanche saw them and leaped off the
hood. Her breasts almost pulled her to
the asphalt as they landed.
She laughed.
"Hey, shit, what we got there? Can
we wind up?"
"We can do anything we want to
with it," said Eddie.
He pulled the rear door open, kneed
Norman in the ass, shoved him in.
Eddie got in on one side, Marvin the
other. Blanche was at the wheel. The
Caddy moved off.
Marvin whistled the opening bars of
"God Bless America" and prepared
himself a rum and soda from the bar.
"Care for a drink, officer?"
Norman didn't answer.
"What'll you have, Eddie?"
Whiskey with just a splash of port."
"Blanche?"
"I'll have a sake. Hot."
"We make great hot sake, officer,"
said Marvin. "Sure you don't want
one?"
Norman didn't answer.
"Hey, Eddie, ever noticed some-
thing?"
"Like what?"
"All traffic cops have asses shaped
like Valentines.'
"Yeah. Yeah. I think that's true.
Wonder why that is?"
"God's ways are mysterious."
"Sure are."
Marvin passed the hot sake up to
Blanche who swirled it off in one suck.
She flipped the glass out the window.
"You people had better release me,"
Norman spoke.
"Oh boy," said Eddie, "listen to
that."
"It's sad," said Marvin.
"It's worse than sad," said Eddie.
"And too damned bad," said Blan-
che.
"Release me and you still have a
chance," said Norman.
"You're the one whose chance is
limited," said Marvin. "Officer, let me
tell you something: you go by the book,
you live poor and you die poor. And
often, early."
Blanche turned her head.
"Ah, stop buggin' the poor creep!
Guy like that, first time he jacked-off
he ran to the confession box.
"Ah," said Marvin, "this guy's too
dumb to even jack-off."
"Shit, that's dumb..." said Blanche.
"Things get dumber and dumber in
this Nuke age. It's sad," said Marvin.
"Worse than sad," said Eddie.
Then the ivory Caddy was back on
the 405, winging through the night...
They pulled into a long circling
drive, loomed in the silent darkness by
trees with long branch arms like
octipii; a bit of moon dripped through,
but not much, and there were cages,
some filled with birds, others with
strange animals. All those-the birds,
the animals were silent; they seemed
contented in a kind of eternal waiting.
Then, there was a gate. Blanche
touched a button in the car. The gate
opened. It had long teeth, top and
bottom. And as the car passed through
there was a giant flash of light. The car
and all its occupants were transfered
to a Space Age security screen.
The flash made Norman sit upright
suddenly.
"Relax, copper," said Eddie, "you
are about to become part of the history
of this place. Some dump. It's had
many strange owners and visitors."
"Yeah," said Marvin, "like Winston
Churshill paid a secret visit here, long
ago, of course."
"And like," said Eddie, "they found.
out when Winston drank he never
went to the bathroom. He just sat there
and gulped down quarts of booze and
just pissed and shit in his pants."
"Some stinkling drunk," said Mar-
vin.
"This fucking joint is many decades
old," said Eddie, "Babe Ruth, one
night he went on a binge and ripped
out every toilet in the place, then gave
one of the maids a thousand dollars
just to suck the hair under his armpits.
Some drinker, that Babe."
The car pulled up and stopped.
"Bogart once knocked out a butler
who said he thought Casablanca was
an ineffective film," said Marvin.
"They say Hitler came here after
World War II," Eddie said, "and
demanded rattlesnake meat for break-
fast.
"Hitler died in the Bunker," said
Norman.
"That was a rigged scene," stated
Eddie, "Hitler died in Argentina, April
3rd, 1972. Now, get out of the car!"
They all climbed out.
It was a warm night, a perfect night.
As they moved toward the front door of
the huge mansion, Marvin said, "You
know, officer, it's too late now to take
that 600. But I've got an idea that you
damned well wish you had...right?"
"Right," said Norman, surprised
that the words had come out of his
mouth...
After they passed through a line of
security guards, there he was: in front
of the fireplace. With just a gentle
burning of the logs. The fattest man of
them all. Big Bernie. Bernie was on the
couch. Bernie almost never left the
couch. He did all his business there, he
fucked there, he got sucked there, he
ate there, the dealt there (right off the
phone) and he even slept there
sometimes. There were 32 other rooms,
27 of which he hardly ever saw or
wanted to see, many of them just
stations of the security guards.
Big Bernie was 322, he had no
children, no friends. He was on the
meth and only interested in his work
and income, of which most of said
income was largely against the intent
of the law. These resources were
diverted and hidden in branches of
legal business, covered and guided by
some of the best lawyers and account-
ants in the world.
There was something almost Bud-
dha-like about Big Bernie. And he was
almost likeable. As great power
sometimes makes men likeable. Be-
cause they tend to be so decently
relaxed about matters major and
minor.
Big Bernie watched from the couch
as the group moved toward him, then
stopped.
"Ah hah, what have we got here?"
"We got a cop, boss. The one we
phoned in about."
Big Bernie sighed, "Damn, I hate
this sort of thing! Well, I'm a fair man.
Might as we'll send him to his grave
happy. Never let it be said I had no
compassion!"
Big Bernie looked over at Blanche.
"You give him a blow job now,
Blanche."
"What? He's a COP! A cop killed my
sister last night in that shootout in
Cleveland!"
"My child, that saddened me just as
much as it did you. But we must carry
on. Now, unzip him and get to it!"
"Ah shit! Do I have ta?"
"You do as I tell you, Blanche!"
Blanche got down on her knees and
unzipped Norman.
"Shit, I hate this!"
"Half the world is run on hatred, the
other half on fear. Proceed."
Blanche got going. She was a hard
worker.
"Where were you born?" Big Bernie
asked Norman.
Norman didn't answer.
"Answer me or you're dead with a
stiff dick!"
"Pasadena, California."
"Well, you won't die there. You got
any children?"
"No."
"That's good. That's real good."
Blanche kept working.
"Whatever made you want to be-
come a cop?"
"The salary's good."
"Yeah?" Compared to what? Being a
dog catcher?"
"Oh," said Norman, "oh, oh, OH!..."
Blanche began bobbing wildly.
Norman ejaculated. Blanche zipped
him up, spat on the rug, walked over to
the bar and mixed herself a whiskey
sour.
Big Bernie rose from the couch and
walked over to Norman. If Buddha
ever walked then Big Bernie was
Buddha. He looked at Marvin, shook
his head sadly.
"Two things now. We've got to
destroy the Caddy, even though the
plates are fake. We don't take chances
here. And we've got to destroy you. It's
the only way. You have to realize that."
"We gotta do it," said Eddie.
"We gotta," said Marvin.
I'm sorry," said Big Bernie.
"Fuck him!" said Blanche, gulping
her drink, "he's just a cop."
"Now Blanche," said Big Bernie,
"cops have feelings, fears, desires just
like the rest of us."
"Fuck him!"
"Listen," said Norman, "let me go. I
won't talk. I'll cover the whole thing."
"I'd like to, boy, but I can't chance it.
You can ruin a 20 million a year
business. I have 232 people working for
me. You can destroy all their lives.
They have families, sons and daugh-
ters in college, at Harvard, at Yale, at
Stanford. I even have a man in the
Senate and four in Congress. I control
the mayor and the city council. I just
can't chance your WORD, you under-
stand that, don't you?"
"All right," said Norman, "but one
thing I want to know. You're so smart,
you're so in control of things, you know
so much about what the hell you're
doing, then how come you keep a dumb
CUNT like Blanche around? I've met
some bimboes but she's tops! Running
around in public with bare breasts and
dirty panties! And she can't even give
decent head!"
"Blanche," said Big Bernie, "is my
daughter."
"WHAT? And you had her give me
head?"
"I know she gives lousy head, that's
why I keep her practicing, so maybe
one day she can give me better head."
"I can't believe you."
"It's straight."
"You're crazy!"
"You mean because I want better
head?"
"You're some mad freak! What are
you on anyhow?"
"Life," said Big Bernie
Then he nodded toward Eddie and
Marvin.
"All right, take care of him."
They grabbed Norman and pulled
him through a doorway.
Big Bernie moved back to the couch,
sat down. He turned his head a bit
toward Blanche.
"Listen, baby, fix me a double
whiskey."
"Whiskey and water, Dad?"
"Straight."
Big Bernie sat looking at the last
burning of the logs in the fireplace. He
was going to miss the ivory Caddy. But
then he had four Rolls. Or was it five?
It was just that the ivory Caddy made
him feel like some kind of hot shot
pimp. He felt a bit tired. Running an
empire was rewarding yet wearing.
Each day for each man was filled with
little problems that needed settling.
Fail to attend to those and the walls
came down. A monotonous attention
to trivial detail was the secret of the
grandest victories. Fail at smal.
things, when the larger ones arrived
you'd lose your ass.
Blanche brought him his drink. He
smiled, said, "Thank you."
A double whiskey was good for the
soul.
He slammed it down and Winter
came to an end.

© Frank Silvanski