He's there an hour ahead of schedule, He was shooting for half an hour early, but once he gets a load of Compton -- he's heard stories about the place, of course, but my God -- he starts driving like a maniac1. Cheap, nasty franchises3 all tend to adopt logos with a lot of bright, hideous4 yellow in them, and so Alameda Street is clearly marked out before him, a gout of radioactive urine ejected south from the dead center of L.A. Jason aims himself right down the middle, ignoring lane markings and red lights, and puts the hammer down. Most of the franchises are yellow-logoed, wrong-side-of-the-tracks operations like Uptown, Narcolombia, Caymans Plus, Metazania, and The Clink. But standing5 out like rocky islands in this swamp are the Nova Sicilia franchulates -- beachheads for the Mafia's effort to outduel the overwhelmingly strong Narcolombia.
Shitty lots that even The Clink wouldn't buy always tend to get picked up by economy-minded three-ringers who have just shelled out a million yen6 for a Narcolombia license7 and who need some real estate, any real estate, that they can throw a fence around and extraterritorialize. These local franchulates send most of their gross to Medellin in franchising8 fees and keep barely enough to pay overhead.
Some of them try to scam, to sneak9 a few bills into their pocket when they think the security camera isn't watching, and run down the street to the nearest Caymans Plus or The Alps franchulate, which hover10 in these areas like flies on road kill. But these people rapidly find out that in Narcolombia, just about everything is a capital offense11, and there is no judicial12 system to speak of, just flying justice squads13 that have the right to blow into your franchulate any time of day or night and fax your records back to the notoriously picky computer in Medellin. Nothing sucks more than being hauled in front of a firing squad14 against the back wall of the business that you built with your own two hands.
Uncle Enzo reckons that with the Mafia's emphasis on loyalty15 and traditional family values, they can sign up a lot of these entrepreneurs before they become Narcolombian citizens.
And that explains the billboards16 that Jason sees with growing frequency as he drives into Compton. The smiling face of Uncle Enzo seems to beam down from every corner. Typically, he's got his arm around the shoulders of a young wholesome-looking black kid, and there's a catch phrase above: THE MAFIA -- YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND IN THE FAMILY! and RELAX -- YOU ARE ENTERING A MAFIA WATCH NEIGHBORHOOD! and UNCLE ENZO FORGIVES AND FORGETS.
This last one usually accompanies a picture of Uncle Enzo with his arm around some teenager's shoulders, giving him a stern avuncular17 talking-to. It is an allusion18 to the fact that the Colombians and Jamaicans kill just about everyone.
NO WAY, JOSE! Uncle Enzo holding up one hand to stop an Uzi-toting Hispanic scumbag; behind him stands a pan-ethnic phalanx of kids and grannies, resolutely19 gripping baseball bats and frying pans.
Oh, sure, the Narcolombians still have a lock on coca leaves, but now that Nippon Pharmaceuticals20 has its big cocaine-synthesis facility in Mexicali nearly complete, that will cease to be a factor. The Mafia is betting that any smart youngster going into the business these days will take note of these billboards and think twice. Why end up suffocating21 on your own entrails out in back of some Buy 'n' Fly when you can put on a crisp terracotta blazer instead and become part of a jovial22 familia? Especially now that they have black, Hispanic, and Asian capos who will respect your cultural identity? In the long term, Jason is bullish on the Mob.
His black Oldsmobile is a fucking bullseye in a place like this. It's the worst thing he has ever seen, Compton. Lepers roasting dogs on spits over tubs of flaming kerosene23. Street people pushing wheelbarrows piled high with dripping clots24 of million- and billion-dollar bills that they have raked up out of storm sewers26. Road kills -- enormous road kills -- road kills so big that they could only be human beings, smeared27 out into chunky swaths a block long. Burning roadblocks across major avenues. No franchises anywhere. The Oldsmobile keeps popping. Jason can't think of what it is until he realizes that people are shooting at him. Good thing he let his uncle talk him into springing for full armor! When he figures that one out, he actually gets psyched. This is the real thing, man! He's driving around in his Olds and the bastards28 are shooting at him, and it just don't matter!
Every street for three blocks around the franchise2 is blocked off by Mafia war wagons29. Men lurk31 on top of burned tenements32 carrying six-foot-long rifles and wearing black windbreakers with MAFIA across the back in five-inch fluorescent33 letters,
This is it, man, this is the real shit.
Pulling up to the checkpoint, he notes that his Olds is now straddling a portable claymore mine. If he's the wrong guy, it'll turn the car into a steel doughnut. But he's not the wrong guy. He's the right guy. He's got a priority job, a heap of documents on the seat next to him, wrapped up tight and pretty.
He rolls the window down and a top-echelon Mafia guardsman nails him with the retinal scanner. None of this ID card nonsense. They know who he is in a microsecond. He sits back against his whiplash arrestor, turns the rearview mirror to face himself, checks his hairstyle. It's not half bad.
"Bud," the guard says, "you ain't on the list."
"Yes, I am," Jason says. "This is a priority delivery. Got the papers right here."
He hands a hard copy of the Turfnet job order to the guard, who looks at it, grunts34, and goes into his war wagon30, which is richly festooned with antennas35. There is a very, very long wait.
A man is approaching on foot, walking across the emptiness between the Mafia franchise and the perimeter36. The vacant lot is a wilderness37 of charred38 bricks and twisted electrical conduit, but this gentleman is walking across it like Christ on the Sea of Galilee. His suit is perfectly39 black. So is his hair. He doesn't have any guards with him. The perimeter security is that good.
Jason notices that all the guards at this checkpoint are standing a little straighter, adjusting their ties, shooting their cuffs40. Jason wants to climb out of his bullet-pocked Oldsmobile to show proper respect to whoever this guy is, but he can't get the door open because a big guard is standing right there, using the roof as a mirror.
All too quickly, he's there.
"Is this him?" he says to a guard.
The guard looks at Jason for a couple of seconds, as though he can't quite believe it, then looks at the important man in the black suit and nods.
The man in the black suit nods back, tugs41 on his cuffs a little bit, squints42 around him for a few moments, looking at the snipers up on the roofs, looking everywhere but at Jason. Then he steps forward one pace. One of his eyes is made of glass and doesn't point in the same direction as the other one. Jason thinks he's looking elsewhere. But he's looking at Jason with his good eye. Or maybe he isn't. Jason can't tell which eye is the real one. He shudders43 and stiffens44 like a puppy in a deep freeze.
"Jason Breckinridge," the man says.
"The Iron Pumper," Jason reminds him.
"Shut up. For the rest of this conversation, you don't say anything. When I tell you what you did wrong, you don't say you're sorry, because I already know you're sorry. And when you drive outta here alive, you don't thank me for being alive. And you don't even say good-bye to me."
Jason nods.
"I don't even want you to nod, that's how much you annoy me, Just freeze and shut up. Okay, here we go. We gave you a priority job this morning. It was real easy. All you had to do was read the fucking job sheet. But you didn't read it. You just took it upon yourself to make the fuckin' delivery on your own. Which the job sheet explicitly45 tells you not to do."
Jason's eyes flick46 in the direction of the bundle of documents on the seat.
"That's crap," the man says. "We don't want your fucking documents. We don't care about you and your fucking franchise out in the middle a nowhere. All we wanted was the Kourier. The job sheet said that this delivery was supposed to be made by one particular Kourier who works your area, name of Y.T. Uncle Enzo happens to like Y.T. He wants to meet her. Now, because you screwed up, Uncle Enzo don't get his wish. Oh, what a terrible outcome. What an embarrassment47. What an incredible fuckup, is what it is. It's too late to save your franchise, Jason The Iron Pumper, but it might not be too late to keep the sewer25 rats from eating your nipples for dinner."
收听单词发音 |
1
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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franchise
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| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
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franchises
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| n.（尤指选举议员的）选举权( franchise的名词复数 )；参政权；获特许权的商业机构（或服务）；（公司授予的）特许经销权v.给…以特许权，出售特许权( franchise的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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franchising
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| v.给…以特许权，出售特许权( franchise的现在分词 ) | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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billboards
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| n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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avuncular
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| adj.叔伯般的，慈祥的 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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pharmaceuticals
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| n.医药品；药物( pharmaceutical的名词复数 ) | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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clots
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| n.凝块( clot的名词复数 )；血块；蠢人；傻瓜v.凝固( clot的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sewer
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| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
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sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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fluorescent
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| adj.荧光的，发出荧光的 | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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antennas
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| [生] 触角，触须（antenna的复数形式） | |
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perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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squints
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| 斜视症( squint的名词复数 )； 瞥 | |
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shudders
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| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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stiffens
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| （使）变硬，（使）强硬( stiffen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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explicitly
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| ad.明确地，显然地 | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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