the white tablets and lined them up on the counter beside his remaining change。
He recapped the bottle and put it in his pocket。
At the other end； the phone was picked up on the first ring。
〃Surf…Sand Resort； how may we help you？〃 the perky female voice asked。
〃I'd like to speak with the manager； please。〃
〃Do you mean Mr。 Trent or — 〃
〃I mean Mr。 Ullman。〃
〃I believe Mr。 Ullman is busy； but if you would like me to check — 〃
〃I would。 Tell him it's Jack Torrance calling from Colorado。〃
〃One moment； please。〃 She put him on hold。
Jack's dislike for that cheap； self…important little prick Ullman came
flooding back。 He took one of the Excedrins from the counter； regarded it for a
moment； then put it into his mouth and began to chew it； slowly and with relish。
The taste flooded back like memory； making his saliva squirt in mingled pleasure
and unhappiness。 A dry； bitter taste； but a pelling one。 He swallowed with a
grimace。 Chewing aspirin had been a habit with him in his drinking days； he
hadn't done it at all since then。 But when your headache was bad enough； a
hangover headache or one like this one； chewing them seemed to make them get to
work quicker。 He had read somewhere that chewing aspirin could bee addictive。
Where had he read that； anyway？ Frowning； he tried to think。 And then Ullman
came on the line。
〃Torrance？ What's the trouble？〃
〃No trouble；〃 he said。 〃The boiler's okay and I haven't even gotten around to
murdering my wife yet。 I'm saving that until after the holidays； when things get
dull。〃
〃Very funny。 Why are you calling？ I'm a busy — 〃
〃Busy man； yes； I understand that。 I'm calling about some things that you
didn't tell me during your history of the Overlooks great and honorable past。
Like how Horace Derwent sold it to a bunch of Las Vegas sharpies who dealt it
through so many dummy corporations that not even the IRS knew who really owned
it。 About how they waited until the time was right and then turned it into a
playground for Mafia bigwigs； and about how it had to be shut down in 1966 when
one of them got a little bit dead。 Along with his bodyguards； who were standing
outside the door to the Presidential Suite。 Great place； the Overlook's
Presidential Suite。 Wilson； Harding； Roosevelt； Nixon； and Vito the Chopper；
right？〃
There was a moment of surprised silence on the other end of the line； and then
Ullman said quietly： 〃I don't see how that can have any bearing on your job； Mr。
Torrance。 It 〃
〃The best part happened after Gienelli was shot； though； don't you think？ Two
more quick shuffles； now you see it and now you don't； and then the Overlook is
suddenly owned by a private citizen； a woman named Sylvia Hunter 。。。 who just
happened to be Sylvia Hunter Derwent from 1942 to 1948。〃
〃Your three minutes are up；〃 the operator said。 〃Signal when through。〃
〃My dear Mr。 Torrance； all of this is public knowledge 。。。 and ancient
history。〃
〃It formed no part of my knowledge；〃 Jack said。 〃I doubt if many other people
know it； either。 Not all of it。 They remember the Gienelli shooting； maybe； but
I doubt if anybody has put together all the wondrous and strange shuffles the
Overlook has been through since 1945。 And it always seems like Derwent or a
Derwent associate es up with the door prize。 What was Sylvia Hunter running
up there in '67 and '68； Mr。 Ullman？ It was a whorehouse； wasn't it？〃
〃Torrance！〃 His shock crackled across two thousand miles of telephone cable
without losing a thing。
Smiling； Jack popped another Excedrin into his mouth and chewed it。
〃She sold out after a rather well known U。S。 senator died of a heart attack up
there。 There were rumors that he was found naked except for black nylon
stockings and a garter belt and a pair of high…heeled pumps。 Patent…leather
pumps； as a matter of fact。〃
〃That's a vicious； damnable lie！〃 Ullman cried。
〃Is it？〃 Jack asked。 He was beginning to feel better。 The headache was
draining away。 He took the last Excedrin and chewed it up； enjoying the bitter；
powdery taste as the tablet shredded in his mouth。
〃It was a very unfortunate occurrence；〃 Ullman said。 〃Now what is the point；
Torrance？ If you're planning to write some ugly smear article 。。。 if this is
some illconceived； stupid blackmail idea。。。〃
〃Nothing of the sort；〃 Jack said。 〃I called because I didn't think you played
square with me。 And because — 〃
〃Didn't play square？〃 Ullman cried。 〃My God； did you think I was going to
share a large pile of dirty laundry with the hotel's caretaker？ Who in heaven's
name do you think you are？ And how could those old stories possibly affect you
anyway？ Or do you think there are ghosts parading up and down the halls of the
west wing wearing bedsheets and crying 'Woe！'？〃
〃No； I don't think there are any ghosts。 But you raked up a lot of my personal
history before you gave me the job。 You had me on the carpet； quizzing me about
my ability to take care of your hotel like a little boy in front of the
teacher's desk for peeing in the coatroom。 You embarrassed me。〃
〃I just do not believe your cheek； your bloody damned impertinence；〃 Ullman
said。 He sounded as if he might be choking。 〃I'd like to sack you。 And perhaps I
will。〃
〃I think Al Shockley might object。 Strenuously。〃
〃And I think you may have finally overestimated Mr。 Shockley's mitment to
you； Mr。 Torrance。〃
For a moment Jack's headache came back in all its thudding glory； and he
closed his eyes against the pain。 As if from a distance away he heard himself
ask： 〃Who owns the Overlook now？ Is it still Derwent Enterprises？ Or are you too
smallfry to know？〃
〃I think that will do； Mr。 Torrance。 You are an employee of the hotel； no
different from a busboy or a kitchen pot scrubber。 I have no intention of — 〃
〃Okay； I'll write Al；〃 Jack said。 〃He'll know； after all； he's on the Board of
Directors。 And I might just add a little P。S。 to the effect that — 〃
〃Derwent doesn't own it。〃
〃What？ I couldn't quite make that out。〃
〃I said Derwent doesn't own it。 The stockholders are all Easterners。 Your
friend Mr。 Shockley owns the largest block of stock himself； better than thirty…
five per cent。 You would know better than I if he has any ties to Derwent。〃
〃Who else？〃
〃I have no intention of divulging the names of the other stockholders to you；
Mr。 Torrance。 I intend to bring this whole matter to the attention of — 〃
〃One other question。〃
〃I am under no obligation to you。〃
〃Most of the Overlook's history — savory and unsavory alike — I found in a
scrapbook that was in the cellar。 Big thing with white leather covers。 Gold
thread for binding。 Do you have any idea whose scrapbook that might be？〃
〃None at all。〃
〃Is it possible it could have belonged to Grady？ The caretaker who killed
himself？〃
〃Mr。 Torrance；〃 Ullman said in tones of deepest frost； 〃I am by no means sure
that Mr。 Grady could read； let alone dig out the rotten apples you have been
wasting my time with。〃
〃I'm thinking of writing a book about the Overlook Hotel。 I thought if I
actually got through it； the owner of the scrapbook would like to have an
acknowledgment at the front。〃
〃I think writing a book about the Overlook would be very unwise；〃 Ullman said。
〃Especially a book done from your 。。。 uh； point of view。〃
〃Your opinion doesn't surprise me。〃 His headache was all gone now。 There had
been that one flash of pain； and that was all。 His mind felt sharp and accurate；
all the way down to millimeters。 It was the way he usually felt only when the
writing was going extremely well or when he had a threedrink buzz on。 That was
another thing he had forgotten about Excedrin； he didn't know if it worked for
others； but for him crunching three tablets was like an instant high。
Now he said： 〃What you'd like is some sort of missioned guidebook that you
could hand out free to the guests when they checked in。 Something with a lot of
glossy photos of the mountains at sunrise and sunset and a lemon…meringue text
to go with it。 Also a section on the colorful people who have stayed there； of
course excluding the really colorful ones like Gienelli and his friends。〃
〃If I felt I could fire you and be a hundred per cent certain of my own job
instead of just ninety…five per cent；〃 UIIman said in clipped； strangled tones；
〃I would fire you right this minute； over the telephone。 But since I feel that
five per cent of uncertainty； I intend to call Mr。 Shockley the moment you're
off the line 。。。 which will be soon； or so I devoutly hope。〃
Jack said； 〃There isn't going to be anything in the book that isn't true； you
know。 There's no need to dress it up。〃
（Why are you baiting him？ Do you want to be fired？）
〃I don't care if Chapter Five is about the Pope of Rome screwing the shade of
the Virgin Mary；〃 Ullman said； his voice rising。 〃I want you out of my hotel！〃
〃It's not your hotel！〃 Jack screamed； and slammed the receiver into its
cradle。
He sat on the stool breathing hard； a little scared now；
（a little？ hell； a lot）
wondering why in the name of God he had called Ullman in the first place。
（You lost your temper again； Jack。）
Yes。 Yes； he had。 No sense trying to deny it。 And the hell of it was； he had
no idea how much influence that cheap little prick had over Al； no more than he
knew how much bullshit Al would take from him in the name of auld lang syne。 If
Ullman was as good as he claimed to be； and if he gave Al a he…goes…or…I…go
ultimatum； might not Al be forced to take it？ He closed his eyes and tried to
imagine telling Wendy。 Guess what； babe？ I lost another job。 This time I had to
go through two thousand miles of Bell Telephone cable to find someone to punch
out； but I managed it。
He opened his eyes and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief。 He wanted a
drink。 Hell； he needed one。 There was a cafe just down the street； surely he had
time for a quick beer on his way up to the park； just one to lay the dust 。。。
He clenched his hands together helplessly。
The question