Frogmouth Read Free

Whoomph! Whoomph!, the Assistant Feng Shui Man didn't even stop to say good-bye.
    "Are you out of your mind?" In Old Himalaya Street, Detective Inspector Auden, his mouth hanging open, said in a strangled gasp, "Are you crazy? You said it was a slight rise, you didn't say it was a ladder street, you didn't say it was a fucking mountain! You didn't say it was Sagarmatha Hill! "
    He got a reassuring pat on the shoulder. What he should have gotten was a wheelchair. Detective Inspector Spencer, smiling (it was obviously one of Auden's little jokes), said with a careless toss of his head, "I know you can do it."
    King Charles I once tried a little careless toss of his head too. Auden, looking around for an axe and a black mask, said in horror, "That's Sagarmatha Hill! You said P.C. Wang took a little turn—if he pounded up Sagarmatha Hill after the bloody Tibetan Tornado he didn't take a little turn, he probably dropped dead from fucking altitude sickness! " He looked down the end of the still wet road to where what had once been a natural hill had been turned by dint of over ninety years of hard work, excavations, town planning and redevelopment into what looked like a mountain. Auden said, "It's a ladder street! It's so fucking steep that they had to put stairs on it so a bloody human being could even get up the first twenty feet to take a breather!" He counted the stone landings. Auden said, 'There is a landing every eight steps!" Auden said, "Look, at the top"—at least he thought it was the top—"there's a bloody mist up there it's so high!" Auden said, "Let me get this straight: you want me to chase after someone all the way down Himalaya Street after he's swiped a handful of money from a customer working an autobank and—and if I don't catch him on the flat—you want me to chase after him up those stairs!" It was obviously a joke. Auden said, "Where's P.C. Wang now?"
    Spencer said, "Anyone could catch him on the flat. The real challenge is to catch him on the stairs." Spencer said, "He runs barefoot for God's sake!"
    "He runs barefoot so that when the paramedics come they won't have to waste time cutting his shoes off before they amputate both his legs!" Auden, his eyes narrowing, asked, "Where's P.C. Wang now?"
    "P.C. Wang was weedy."
    "P.C. Wang was the Police Weightlifting Champion for three years in a row!" Auden said, "Where is he, Bill?"
    Spencer said, "Mmmpzxzzp tripmphhgern."
    "What was that?"
    Spencer said, "The St. Paul de Chartres gerzuffgarn . . ."
    Auden said, "Oh."
    ". . . hospital, ghizzm ward."
    Auden said, "Uh huh."
    "Intensive care!" Spencer said, "Look, you can do it, Phil. You're fit. He's just a weedy little Tibetan who steals money from an autobank and runs away like a thief in the night up a little hill and then—"
    "Why can't you do it?"
    "It's a challenge I can't meet." Spencer said, "I haven't trained my body the way you have. When you go to the gym in your lunch hour, I read." Spencer said, " Chariots of Fire, Rocky —all that." Spencer said, "Don't you feel the need to strive, to fight, not to yield?" Obviously, from the look on his face, he didn't. Spencer said desperately, "The New Conservatism needs heroes'."
    Auden said, "Wang had a coronary, didn't he?"
    "A mild one." Spencer said quickly, "But he's all right. From what I could make out when I spoke to him, he's even happy. He said that at his time of life it was a good thing to test himself physically and realize that his best days were over. He said now he's found inner peace."
    "How old was he?"
    Spencer said, "Twenty-three." Spencer said, "You can do it, Phil. Are you going to let a Tibetan thief in the night lay you low?" Spencer said in his best Churchillian, "Phil, never surrender, never, never, never!" Spencer said, "You'll do it, right?"
    Auden said, "How long does he take to do the hundred yards down Himalaya Street, grab the money, catch his stride and then get up the hill?"
    "He's slow."
    "How slow?"
    Spencer said, 'Twelve