The Abu Wahab Caper Page 8
Monroe D. Underwood
Brandy lit a pair of cigarettes and handed one to me.
She said Purdue we’re approaching the big showdown.
I said we just had the big showdown and I just got showed up.
Brandy pinched my cheek.
She said so who’s complaining?
I said I am.
Brandy said you were worn out by the trip and its related factors.
I said yeah particularly those related factors.
Brandy said well Purdue here’s where we stand.
She said Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar and his Desert Sands gang are camped along the backstretch.
She said on the signal of a pistol shot three thousand Arabs will attack.
I said attack who?
Brandy said why you and me of course.
I said what the hell do you mean you and me?
I said what do the Arabs have against me?
Brandy said well for one thing you’ve been complaining about the price of gasoline.
She said Ali-Ben Hazzar’s racehorses are merely a cover for what he really has in mind.
She said he’s committed to cutting off our flow of oil from Ishaq.
She said he works closely with the Soviet DADA group.
She said he’s one utterly ruthless sonofabitch and he dreams of eventually becoming the Soviet Union’s puppet-ruler of the entire Middle East.
She said he’s wealthy beyond reason.
She said he has a gorgeous Russian mistress named Gregoria Rippoff and a twenty-five-woman harem and a grudge against the United States because we wouldn’t sell him the Panama Canal.
I said well that is grossly unfair.
I said why should we sell it when we can give it away?
Brandy said Bet-A-Bunch Dugan carries the key to the whole nasty business and the fat will probably hit the fire sometime tomorrow afternoon.
I said well don’t worry about the sword of Abu Wahab.
I said it’s in the back of the van and Bet-A-Bunch is sleeping on it.
Brandy said to hell with the sword of Abu Wahab.
She said Purdue there’s considerably more at stake than a rusty old sword.
A silhouette stepped into the stall opening.
It wore a burnoose.
It carried a sword.
I said if that’s Betsy I got a problem.
The silhouette raised the sword high over its head.
In a booming voice it said with the sacred sword of Abu Wahab I do now slay thine naked infidel asses.
I said well thank God it isn’t Betsy.
Brandy grabbed the blanket.
She came off the floor of the stall like a tawny scalded cat.
Her blanket hit the silhouette in the face.
Her foot caught the silhouette in the groin.
Her fist nailed the silhouette in the throat.
Her knee busted the silhouette in the pit of the stomach.
The silhouette doubled up like a jackknife and reeled aimlessly from the stable.
I said I think they’re carrying this jury-duty thing a bit too goddam far.
Brandy picked up the sword and handed it to me.
She said Bet-A-Bunch Dugan sleeps very soundly.
I said most people do when they’re dead.
Brandy slipped into her burnoose.
She said Bet-A-Bunch is perfectly all right.
She said that blade is dry.
I shrugged.
It had been one hell of a big night for silhouettes.
44
…the yawn originated in Wrigley Field…late August or early September as I recall…
Monroe D. Underwood
The cold gray mists of dawn had melted from Waupuwukee Downs and the morning sun was warm.
Cotton clouds wallowed in blue sky like fat white kittens in catnip.
Bet-A-Bunch was leaning against the van.
He munched a Marsh-O-Puff candy bar and studied the lumpy right rear tire.
Now and then he glanced at Sahara Wind nipping stray bits of clover.
Bet-A-Bunch said I slept real good but you look all knocked out.
I shrugged.
Bet-A-Bunch said you shouldn’t let no little old two-bit fire keep you awake all night.
I didn’t say anything.
Bet-A-Bunch said what do you know about camels?
I said I know they used to have one in the Brookfield Zoo.
I said he farted like a firecracker.
Bet-A-Bunch said is that all?
I said what do you mean is that all?
I said I was tremendously impressed.
Bet-A-Bunch said well you sure don’t know much about camels.
I said maybe not but I never mistook one for a racehorse.
Bet-A-Bunch said this camel is always winking at me.
I said he probably got something in his eye.
Bet-A-Bunch said there’s nothing wrong with his eye.
He said he also smiles at me.
I said I’ve noticed that.
I said you better watch him.
I said there’s just no telling what he may be leading up to.
Bet-A-Bunch said you want a Marsh-O-Puff candy bar?
I said yeah in about fifty years.
Sahara Wind yawned his magnificent yawn.
He strode majestically to the Waupuwukee Downs sign.
He kicked the U and the G out of BUGLES.
He smiled at Bet-A-Bunch.
He winked.
He farted like a firecracker.
45
…a envelope is something what usually contains the news your mother-in-law is coming for the holidays…
Monroe D. Underwood
On the far side of the track Arab tents blossomed like the garden of an insane god.
A frantic multitude of colors.
Bet-A-Bunch said reminds me of a rainbow that crashed.
There was a busy orderliness about the camp.
We saw dozens of burnoose-clad figures moving quietly about.
Bet-A-Bunch said seems like all them Arabs is in the Ku Klux Klan.
I said those are burnooses.
Bet-A-Bunch said well I’ll be damned.
He said they look just like Arabs from here.
We soaked up sun for several minutes.
Bet-A-Bunch said maybe we better go see that racing secretary about getting Sahara Wind in some kind of race.
We headed into the dark tunnel under the grandstand.
The candles fluttered and sputtered and our voices boomed against the sweating walls.
Suddenly I heard the echo of rapid footsteps behind us.
I turned to see a big man in a burnoose racing in our direction.
He carried a large white envelope.
I said get out of the way Bet-A-Bunch.
I said here comes that maniac with those goddam jury papers again.
I brought one from the one yard line.
The big guy caved in with a soggy sound.
He didn’t twitch.
A white paper had spilled from his envelope.
Bet-A-Bunch picked it up and looked at it.
He said it don’t say a word about jury duty.
He said it just says that Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar is entering a horse in the Wisconsin Beanie this afternoon.
The big guy sat up.
Slowly.
He pushed back the hood of his burnoose.
He was a dark and evilly handsome man with straight long black hair.
He sported a short pointed beard and he wore golden earrings.
He sat there shaking his head.
He looked up at me.
He said Purdue?
I said yeah.
He snarled.
He said nikapauca.
46
…oncet I knowed a feller what got pursued down a expressway by a new Cadillac full of naked women…he was so terrified he went right out and bought a automobile…
Monroe D. Underwood
At one-thirty that afternoon Phineas T. Singletree arrived with Junior Jones in the Triple Octane tow truck.
They climbed out and Phineas said all right Junior clear the crowd away from that Ferris wheel and let’s find out what’s going on hereabouts.
Bet-A-Bunch said the reason I called you is this thing don’t only go round and round.
He said it also goes side-to-side.
The Ferris wheel operator was a short brawny guy who wore greasy green coveralls and a perpetual scowl.
Phineas cornered him.
He said I am given to understand that this here contraption travels at a right smart rate of speed.
The operator said naw.
He said we ain’t never run ’er wide open.
He said if we ever done that Christ knows what would happen.
Phineas said well young feller what would happen is exactly what I come clean over here to find out.
He said you just wind ’er up to the limit and we gonna run us a little old three-hour test.
The operator bristled.
He said just who the hell might you be?
Phineas sighed.
He turned to Junior Jones.
He said Junior I reckon maybe you better tell this gentleman just who the hell I might be.
Junior hit an empty popcorn box with a shot of tobacco juice.
He extended a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt.
He grabbed the front of the operator’s greasy green coveralls.
He lifted the operator two feet into the air.
Effortlessly.
He looked the operator in the eye.
He said well let’s see now.
He said to begin with Phineas might be the Sultan of Siam only he ain’t.
He said he might also be the local Fuller Brush man only he ain’t that neither.
He said Phineas is the Justice of the Peace and the Mayor and the Alderman and three different Precinct Captains and the Police Commissioner and any number of Chairmen.
He said he is also the Official Inspector of Ferris Wheels.
He lowered the operator gently to the ground.
He said now get at it.
The operator ran to the controls and threw several levers.
The gasoline engine roared into action.
The wheel emitted a great rasping sound and began to turn slowly.
Then faster.
And faster.
And even faster.
Anguished wails of protest emanated from its rusty core.
Within thirty seconds the little wire cages had dissolved into a solid black circle.
The wheel shot from side to side to strike its retaining fittings with colossal force.
Phineas hauled out a gold watch the size of a country biscuit.
He consulted it.
He said if this thing is still in one piece at four-thirty I’m gonna award it the seal of approval of the Safety Committee.
He glared at the operator.
He said I am the Safety Committee.
As we returned to the van we passed a great many people dressed in burnooses.
One turned to walk at my side.
The smell of lilac perfume drifted my way.
Brandy Alexander spoke softly.
She said Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar is threatening to bring suit against Waupuwukee Downs.
She said he says he was knocked senseless by a madman under the grandstand this morning.
I shrugged.
Brandy said he says a naked woman assaulted him in an abandoned stable last night.
I said what else does he say?
Brandy said well he has been using one word repetitiously.
She said he keeps muttering nikapauca nikapauca nikapauca.
47
…the average cornfield produces more babies than corn…
Monroe D. Underwood
The monstrous Ferris wheel’s speeding rim was a brilliant blur above the rotting grandstand of Waupuwukee Downs.
Its hair-raising screeches could have been heard for miles.
Trees swayed in its great golden wake.
Bet-A-Bunch and I watched from the bumper of the van.
Bet-A-Bunch’s voice was awed.
He said Chance if that goddam thing busts loose it will roll from here to Atlantic City.
A slight figure in a burnoose walked by and made an almost unnoticeable gesture.
I excused myself and caught up with Spice Dugan behind our stable.
She said how’s Dad doing?
I said just great.
Spice said is the sword of Abu Wahab still safe?
I said some screwball was waving the damn thing around last night but we got it back.
Spice said how did he get hold of it?
I said I don’t know.
I said he didn’t have it long enough for me to ask.
Spice said I see that Dad’s still carrying that damned old satchel.
I said all the time.
Spice said it has to go.
She said those old Racing Forms are useless here.
She said not one of these horses has ever competed at a legitimate racing installation.
I shrugged.
I said I’ve never seen him open the satchel.
Spice said if you can distract him in some way I’ll throw it into my car.
I said what do I do when he finds out it’s gone?
Spice said just explain that his daughter took it and that I’ll be back this evening to discuss it with him.
She said Dad will understand.
When I got back to the van Bet-A-Bunch said I never seen so many Burnooses in all my life.
He said there is more Burnooses than there is Americans.
He went into the stable and came out followed by Sahara Wind.
Sahara Wind stretched and yawned.
He walked to the Waupuwukee Downs sign.
He kicked the A and the N out of AND.
He smiled and winked at Bet-A-Bunch.
He moseyed back to his stall.
I lit a cigarette and sat staring at the sign.
Bet-A-Bunch said he sure got no use for that sign.
He said before he gets through there won’t be nothing left.
I didn’t answer.
A strange little chill was crawling up my spine.
I said Bet-A-Bunch look at that sign and tell me what you see.
Bet-A-Bunch said hell that’s easy.
He said I see a sign full of holes.
I said do you remember how it read when we got here?
Bet-A-Bunch said it read WAUPUWUKEE DOWNS WHERE THE BUGLES SUMMON TO THE POST THE FLEETEST AND GAMEST OF THOROUGHBREDS.
I said okay what does it say now?
Bet-A-Bunch frowned.
He said it says WAUPUWUK OWNS WHERE THE BLES SUMMON TO THE POST THE FLEETEST D GAMEST OF THOROUGHBREDS.
He said so?
I said so what letters are missing?
Bet-A-Bunch walked to the sign and stood rooted in front of it.
For a couple of minutes.
Suddenly he spun away.
He was goggle-eyed and pale.
He let out a war-whoop.
He jumped three feet off the ground.
He yelled E. E. Dugan is back just like he said!
He said my father has returned!
He ran in circles leaping and clicking his heels together.
Spice Dugan appeared and grabbed the satchel.
She said well done.
She said this is for Dad’s own good.
Her bronze Driefach-Shrecken was parked near the track entrance and she ran toward it.
From behind a clump of trees came a glistening black horse ridden by a dark and evilly handsome man with long black hair and a short pointed beard and golden earrings.
He was bearing down on Spice Dugan’s Driefach-Shrecken.
I yelled hey look out.
Spice opened her car do
or.
She placed the old brown satchel carefully on the seat.
She looked back.
She hollered hey look out my ass.
She shot her right fist into the air with the middle finger sticking straight up.
She laughed and got behind the wheel.
The long-haired rider dropped nimbly from his horse and piled into the Driefach-Shrecken with Spice Dugan.
The low-slung German car pulled away.
Brandy Alexander rolled up in her silver-gray Porsche.
Her burnoose hood was back and her liquid brown eyes were flaming.
She said Purdue where’s the satchel?
I said Spice Dugan took it.
Brandy said get in here quick.
She said that redheaded little fox is Gregoria Rippoff the Russian mistress of Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar.
She said if they get away with that satchel this country will be on its knees before you can say fill ’er up.
I said they can’t bring us to our knees with a satchel full of old Racing Forms.
The lumpy tire on the horse van blew out with a blast that tore two buttons off my shirt.
A great cry went up from the far side of the track.
I peered through the dust created by the blowout.
Three thousand Arabs were boiling across Waupuwukee Downs.
They were waving curved daggers and hollering Allah Akbar.
Brandy said they’ve mistaken the blowout for a pistol shot.
She said get in goddammit.
I got in and Brandy’s Porsche shot to the highway on smoking tires.
The Driefach-Shrecken was just a dot on the horizon.
I said don’t worry.
I said it’ll probably break down again.
Brandy said don’t you believe it.
She said those breakdowns were staged for your benefit.
She said the Driefach-Shrecken is one hell of an automobile.
From our left came an ear-piercing howl that could have hailed from the depths of Hades.
It was accompanied by a booming sound not unlike that of an eight-inch naval gun.
The great Ferris wheel had broken its bonds.
It bounded diagonally across the fields at unbelievable speed.
Arabs flew in every direction.
Mostly up.
The wheel turned onto the highway in front of us and it left the Porsche in its dust.
Brandy whistled.
She said Purdue we’re going one-twenty.
She said that damned wheel must be doing two-fifty.