Thompson, Hunter S. - The Rum Diary by Thompson Hunter S

Author:Thompson, Hunter S. [Thompson, Hunter S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Ten

Sanderson's office was on the top floor of the tallest building in the Old City. I sat in a leather lounge chair, and below me I could see the entire waterfront, the Caribe Hilton and most of Condado. There was a definite feeling of being in a control tower.

Sanderson had his feet on the window sill. "Two things," he was saying. "This business with the Times won't amount to much -- a few articles a year -- but Zimburger's project is a big one."

"Zimburger?" I said.

He nodded. "I didn't want to mention it yesterday because he might have dropped in."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Are we talking about the same Zimburger -- the General?"

He looked annoyed. "That's right, he's one of our clients."

"Damn," I said. "Business must be falling off. The man's a jackass."

He rolled a pencil in his fingers. "Kemp," he said slowly, "Mister Zimburger is building a marina -- a damn big one." He paused. "He's also going to build one of the finest hotels on the island."

I laughed and fell back in the chair.

"Look," he said sharply, "you've been here long enough to begin learning a few things, and one of the first things you should learn is that money comes in odd packages." He tapped his pencil on the desk. "Zimburger -- known to you as 'the jackass' -- could buy and sell you thirty times. If you insist on going by appearances you'd be better off in some place like Texas."

I laughed again. "You may be right. Now why don't you tell me what you have in mind. I'm in a hurry."

"One of these days," he said, "this silly arrogance of yours is going to cost you a lot of money."

"Goddamnit," I replied, "I didn't come here to be analyzed."

He smiled stiffly. "All right. The Times wants a general article for their spring travel section. Mrs. Ludwig will get some material together for you -- I'll tell her what you need."

"What do they want?" I said. "A thousand happy words?"

"More or less," he replied. "We'll handle the photos."

"Okay," I said. "That's a back-breaker -- now what about Zimburger?"

"Well," he said. "Mister Zimburger wants a brochure. He's building a marina on Vieques island, between here and St. Thomas. We'll get the photos and do the layout -- you write the text, about fifteen hundred words."

"What will he pay?" I asked.

"He won't," Sanderson replied. "He'll pay us a flat fee -- we'll pay you twenty-five dollars a 53

day, plus expenses. You'll have to make a trip to Vieques, probably with Zimburger."

"Jesus," I said.

He smiled. "No real hurry. Let's say next Friday."

"The brochure will be aimed at investors," he added. "This is one hell of a big marina --

two hotels, a hundred cottages, the whole works."

"Where did Zimburger get his money?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It's not just Zimburger. He has several people with him on this -- as a matter of fact, he asked me in on it."

"What stopped you?"

He swung around to face the window again.

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