Read Online The Dead Have A Thousand Dreams by Richard Sanders - Free Book Online

one.”
    The next room was
basically a steam bath. We stood outside, watching through a glass
panel as swatches of material were washed in waves of humidity and
heat.
    “I call it Panama City at
3 p.m.,” said Wooly. “Plenty of product’s wilted and failed here
too. I’ve gotten sucked into many an ugly spat just over this test
alone.”
    “I guess,” said Nickie,
“it’s a contentious business.”
    “You have no idea,” he
said as we walked. “This business brings out the worst in human
nature, it really does. I know some people say it’s bars or hotels,
but it’s this line of business that shows people at their
worst.”
    There was also a window at
the next door. Inside, two workers dressed in hazmat gear were
exposing samples to clouds of brownish gas.
    “This one I call Mexico
City at 3 p.m. We pump in carbon monoxide, all your major
pollutants. It’s 15 times as toxic as what the federal regulators
call a bad-air day.”
    “Wooly .” Farooq was coming up the hall, three clipboards still
under his arm. “Jay Chan just called, said you stiffed him on
$3,000.”
    “Stiffed him? I never
stiffed him.”
    “The repairs he did, the
recalibrations? He said he billed you for $8,000, you only paid
five.”
    “Jay Chan?”
    “Right.”
    “It was only worth five.
One of those machines was almost new—you could still smell the
clean on it. Tell him he’s only getting five.”
    “Then why did you agree to
eight?”
    “Jay knew I was gonna fuck
him out of three. Tell him five is all he gets.”
    Farooq started to say
something, then his face collapsed in give-up pain and he turned
and walked away.
    “You put him through some
kind of shit,” I said.
    “Yeah, but Farooq’s better
off than when I first met him.”
    “When’s that?”
    “When he broke into my
house trying to rob me.”
    Nickie and I exchanged
boggled looks.
    “I hear a noise one
night,” said Wooly. “I get up, grab my Berretta. I see this guy
climbing into the living room window, so I shoot him. Once he got
out of the hospital, though, I felt sorry for him. Dropped the
charges, gave him a job. Was out of guilt, I guess, but he’s worked
out. Really does a fine job, though he’s still got a language
thing. Couple weeks ago I tell him I wanna try to start eating
lite. He looks at me, he’s not getting it. He says, what kind of
light?”
    We came to the last door
in the hallway. It led into a room that was much smaller than the
rest. One Xenon-arc light fixture stood in the middle, shining on a
mere three samples.
    “This is mostly for my own
amusement,” said Wooly. “Every once in a while we get product that
hardly shows any wear—they pass with flying colors, so to speak.
When the testing’s done, I bring ‘em here, study them myself, just
for the hell of it. I just want to see how long it’ll take for them
to go. Why? I don’t know, there’s just something fascinating about
disintegration, watching something falling apart with the passage
of time. In a way, it’s like looking into the future, predicting
what’s going to happen.”
    “Sort of liked being
psychic?” I said.
    Wooly wasn’t at all
pleased by the comparison. “Yeah,” he said, “except I get it done .”
     
    >>>>>>
     
    SATURDAY JUNE 16, 1:35
p.m.
    A NEAT FREAK
    At least I felt I had a
better understanding of testing now—I was in a better position to
talk to Monte Slater. In terms of somebody wanting to take Wooly’s
life, Monte was still at the top of my list.
    Downtown Hidden lake was
crowded today, tourists enjoying the weather, lot of traffic.
Including an ambulance, parked in front of the Executive Center.
And an emergency service truck from the HLFD. Plus two cop cars
pulled up and parked on the street.
    My lungs stopped working.
The air had been vacuumed out of my chest.
    Okay, it could be
anything. There are plenty of tenants in the building. But then I
got to the fifth floor and I thought I was dreaming. The yellow
tape down the end of the