The other woman talked for a few minutes more, then she walked past me, ignoring me.The man, Marcus Stewart-Jones, I presumed, turned and went into th... office in the back. He was gone for four or five minutes, and when he came back, he had a Pepsi can in his hand."Marcus Stewart-Jones," he said, offering me his hand, still wet and cold from the soda pop can."Tom Ferguson."He looked me up and down, seemed to sniff in derision. "So white boy, you want to ride along and look at what's happening on. Finally, he stood up and started to undress. Fumbling with his clothes, it seemed to take forever to get them off. He knew he should put his pajamas on, but he was too tired to find them. He vaguely remembered something about his mother telling him that he could have the berth and she would sleep on the fold-out sofa earlier.Reeling over to the berth, he found it difficult to keep his balance in the swaying, rocking car. Standing there naked, struggling with the latch, he hoped that his mother. More

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