（外文电子版资料）Robert Reed - Winemaster.pdf

ROBERT REED WINEMASTER THE STRANGER PULLED INTO the Quik Shop outside St. Joe. Nothing was remarkable about him, which was why he caught Blaines eye. Taller than average, but not much, he was thin in an unfit way, with black hair and a handsome, almost pretty face, fine bones floating beneath skin that didnt often get into the sun. Which meant nothing, of course. A lot of people were staying indoors lately. Blaine watched him climb out of an enormous Buick -- a satin black 17 Gibraltar that had seen better days -- and after a lazy long stretch, he passed his e-card through the proper slot and inserted the nozzle, filling the Buicks cavernous tank with ten cold gallons of gasoline and corn alcohol. By then, Blaine had run his plates. The Buick was registered to a Julian Winemaster from Wichita, Kansas; twenty-nine accompanying photographs showed pretty much the same fellow who stood sixty feet away. His entire bio was artfully bland, rigorously seamless. Winemaster was an accountant, divorced and forty-four years old, with O negative blood and five neo-enamel fillings imbedded in otherwise perfect teeth, plus a small pink birthmark somewhere on his right buttock. Useless details, Blaine reminded himself, and with that he lifted his gaze, watching the traveler remove the dripping nozzle, then cradling it on the pump with the overdone delicacy of a man ill-at-ease with machinery. Behind thick fingers, Blaine was smiling. Winemaster moved with a stiff, road-weary gait, walking into the convenience store and asking, Maam.? Wheres your rest room, please? The clerk ignored him. It was the mens room that called out, Over here, sir. Sitting in one of the hard plastic booths, Blaine had a good view of everything. A pair of militia boys in their brown uniforms were the only others in the store. Theyd been gawking at dirty comic books, minding their own business until they heard Winemasters voice. Politeness had lately become a suspicious behavio