If the man seated behind the cash register was “Al,” thought Elliot, then his father had been polite as an ambassador. He was not “somewhat overweight.” He was grossly fat, perhaps tipping the scale at three hundred pounds. His triple chin—
one had to presume—was well hidden beneath a thick, black beard, contrasted by his bald pate. He was chewing what Elliot first thought was gum but soon realized was tobacco and was reading Jean-Paul Sartre’s Nausea, which matched Elliot’s first reaction to the man.
Elliot approached him with caution. “I’d like a copy of Not Worth a Continental by Martin Vreeland,” he said, according to plan.
The man lowered his book, spat tobacco—into a cuspidor, Elliot was relieved to see—and inspected Elliot carefully. “You his kid?” he asked finally. Not according to plan. Elliot nodded hesitantly. “Are you Al?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifting himself off the stool with considerable difficulty. “C’mon, it’s in the back.”
Elliot’s face fell. “But don’t you need my countersign?” he blurted.
“Nah. You look just like your old man.”
Al led Elliot through a draped door to a corner of his back room and gestured toward a large carton on the floor filled with books. “Gimme a hand with this.” Elliot got a grip on one of the corners, then the two of them lifted it aside, revealing a Alongside Night
39
hole in the linoleum. Al lifted out a package sealed into a black Pliofilm bag, handing it to him. “The coins are in here,” he said. “Count ‘em if you want. I gotta get out front. Need me, just call.”
Elliot looked at Al curiously. “Uh—mind if I ask a personal question?”
“Don’t know till you ask the question.”
“Well … if you knew what’s in here, then why didn’t you just take it and run? Gold ownership is illegal. We couldn’t have reported you.”
Al laughed heartily. “I thought you were gonna ask how much I eat or somethin’. I didn’t steal the gold ‘cause it don’t belong to me.” He turned and went out front.
After placing the plastic on a nearby table, Elliot broke the sealed plastic, opening it. Inside was a specially designed leather belt—forty-odd inches long, two inches high—with no tongue or eyelets but a slide-buckle instead. At the bottom was a zipper concealed between two layers of leather. Elliot slid the buckle out of the way, unzipped the belt, and peeled apart the leather.
Inside were the twenty-five Mexican fifty-peso gold pieces, built into matching cutouts in the leather that extended most of the belt’s length. They were beautifully struck, in virtual mint condition, and even in the back room’s dim light reflected considerable luster.
Each coin was about one and a half inches in diameter. The traditional eagle with a serpent in its mouth embellished the obverse of each coin; on the reverse was a winged Nike—goddess of victory—bearing a wreath, to her right the 50 PESOS
mark, to her left the legend 37.5 grams ORO PURO. Elliot removed his own belt, replacing it with the new one, which he had to thread through several belt loops twice as it was too long for his thirty-four inch waist. Then he replaced his jacket and overcoat.
40
Alongside Night
Al was busy with a customer when Elliot came front; he stood away a polite distance, awaiting an opportunity to take his leave. Repressing a desire—more out of embarrassment than anything else—to spend his time examining Al’s erotica, he instead alternated between observing Al’s conversation—
impossible to eavesdrop on because of Al’s radio playing loudly—and watching the OPI News Summary streaming across the Oracle Tower.
ARMY GUARD IS WITHDRAWN FROM FORT KNOX, KY. ONE YEAR
AFTER ANNOUNCEMENT THAT U.S. GOLD RESERVES ARE
DEPLETED…
Elliot was suddenly struck by the strangest feeling of déjà
vu. He could see that Al was doing something with his hands, but could not have told exactly what.
PRESIDENT LAUNCHES PHASE 7 OF ECONOMIC POLICY EXPANDING WAGE-PRICE CONTROLS AND RATIONING…
Al’s customer purchased a book but Elliot could not shake the feeling that he had noticed something significant that he had failed to comprehend.
FBI CHIEF POWERS ATTRIBUTES LAST NIGHT’S FIREBOMBINGS
OF BUREAU OFFICES TO OUTLAW “REVOLUTIONARY AGORIST
CADRE”…
It was almost dusk when a moment later Al’s customer left; Elliot walked forward to the counter and thanked Al for his help. “Don’t mention it,” said Al. “The least I can do under the circumstances—your old man being dead and all.”
“How did you—?”