The Place of Dead Roads by William S. Burroughs

Author:William S. Burroughs
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

Graywood meets them at the station and they take a carriage to the Bunker, a former bank building at Spring and Bowery.… The walls are massive, the door of thick steel. It is an impregnable fortress. Kim’s quarters on the top floor consist of living room, dining room, kitchen, with a bedroom and bath.

Relaxing over a drink he is delighted to learn that his enemies are relying on Mafia talent.… “Means they’ve got no good shootist!”

“Let’s go out and see the town,” Graywood says.

Bill Anderson has provided a number of concealable weapons for city wear … short-barreled revolvers, vest-pocket derringers, the new 25 and 380 automatics. Kim’s 44 goes into his doctor’s satchel with his other instruments. Better take along the satchel. It may save a life. Councillor Graywood has one of the new broom-handle Mausers that fits neatly into a leather briefcase.

* * *

Dinner at Luchow’s.

“It’s heavy Jew food,” Boy complains.

“It isn’t Jew food. It’s German food,” Kim corrects him.

“What’s different? All Germans is knowned to be Jews because they is spiking with heavy Jew accints.”

Kim nods.… “Well that makes sense.”

“Only the Jews and the Chinese knows how to cook a carp,” Marbles says.

“It’s true,” Boy says. “I eated a pepper carp onct.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a special Jew carp.”

“You think maybe we getting some of this special carp tonight?”

“Not here,” Kim says, “they isn’t Jew enough to do it. Later maybe. They is selling it inna street from the carp wagons.”

(This is running code and Kim is saying, They won’t try a hit here. On the street, most likely from a car.)

“I hear all Yids is short-cocked.”

“It’s true. Short and thick.”

(They will be using sawed-off shotguns.)

* * *

The Johnsons go into action and the Families don’t know what is hitting them with such deadly precision, such ingenious weapons, and such skill in their use.

The Popcorn Kid

A paunchy but powerful Capo with cold, hooded gray eyes sits back from his clam spaghetti. He signs the check and tips the fawning waiter. As the Capo walks out with his two bodyguards the waiter looks after him, and his servile smile becomes a sneer in a flash of gold teeth.

The guards are a bit belchy and somnolent from the lunch and the wine and the grappa. A jalopy pulls into the curb at a corner ahead of them. A red-haired boy of about eighteen gets out, slamming the door with a violent back kick. The engine coughs and dies. The driver shouts after the boy, “You frigging little son of a bitch.”

“Gee thanks for the ride, Mister.”

The boy walks toward the Capo with a bag of popcorn. He is tossing the popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth. The driver is still cursing as he tries to start the car. The boy’s shirt is open to the belt. When the boy is within a few feet of the Capo the car backfires. The guards stiffen and then relax. The boy drops his popcorn and clutches his chest and staggers forward.

“They got me, Capo.

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