p&c.brimstone-第14节

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e　man；　D'Agosta　peered　around　the　room。　His　eye　finally　discerned　a　lone；　dark　figure；　wreathed　in　smoke；　hunched　over　the　farthest　billiard　table。　
　〃If　I　may　inquire　your　business；　sir…？〃　
　〃You　may　not。〃　D'Agosta　brushed　by　the　attendant　and　strode　past　the　billiard　tables；　low…hanging　lamps　casting　pools　of　light　over　their　emerald　surfaces。　It　was　six　o'clock　in　the　evening；　and　through　the　windows；　the　rectangle　of　Central　Park　was　a　graveyard　of　darkness。　New　York　was　at　that　magical　twilight　moment；　neither　light　nor　dark；　where　the　glow　of　the　city　matched　the　glow　of　the　sky　behind　it。　
　D'Agosta　paused　about　ten　feet　from　the　man　and　pulled　out　his　notebook。　He　flipped　it　open　and　wrote；Bullard。　October　20。　Then　he　waited。　
　He　expected　Bullard　to　look　up　and　acknowledge　him；　but　he　didn't。　Instead；　the　man　leaned　farther　over　the　green　baize；　his　face　in　shadow；　and　tapped　another　ball。　He　chalked　his　cue　with　a　swift　twist　of　the　wrist；　came　around　the　table；　hit　again。　The　table　was　like　no　pool　table　D'Agosta　had　ever　seen：　much　larger；　with　smaller　pockets　and　smaller　balls　in　just　two　colors；　red　and　white。　
　〃Mr。　Bullard？〃　
　The　man　ignored　him；　moving　to　make　yet　another　shot。　His　back　was　huge；　his　shoulders　broad；　and　the　silk　fabric　of　his　suit　strained　taut　across　them。　All　D'Agosta　could　clearly　discern　was　the　glowing　stump　of　a　huge　cigar　and　two　great　knotted　hands　that　were　thrust　into　the　circle　of　light；　the　veins　on　their　backs　as　thick　and　rolled　as　blue　earthworms。　One　of　the　hands　sported　two　immense　gold　rings。　The　man　tapped；　moved　around；　tapped　again。　
　Just　as　D'Agosta　was　about　to　say　something；　the　man　abruptly　straightened；　turned；　pulled　the　cigar　from　his　mouth；　and　said：　
　〃What　do　you　want？〃　
　D'Agosta　didn't　answer　right　away。　Instead；　he　took　a　minute　to　observe　the　man's　face。　Quite　possibly　there　wasn't　an　uglier　man　on　God's　earth。　His　head　was　huge　and　swarthy；　and　though　the　body　it　was　perched　on　seemed　as　massive　and　thick　as　a　grizzly's；　the　head　still　appeared　oversize。　A　lantern　jaw；　anchored　by　popping　muscles；　rose　toward　a　pair　of　undulant　earlobes。　Centered　between　them　were　dry　fleshy　lips　white　against　the　dark　skin：　a　particularly　unpleasant　bination。　Above　stuck　out　a　thick；　pitted　nose。　Massive；　beetling　brows　jutted　far　over　a　pair　of　sunken　eyes。　From　the　bushy　eyebrows　above；　a　squat　forehead　led　upward　to　a　bald　dome；　its　skin　covered　with　freckles　and　liver　spots。　The　impression　the　man　gave　was　of　enormous　brute　strength　and　self…assurance　in　both　mind　and　body。　When　he　moved；　the　blue　silk　that　clad　his　frame　rustled；　and　his　movements　were　as　heavy　and　deliberate　as　those　of　a　well…muscled　draft　horse。　
　D'Agosta　licked　his　lips。　〃I　have　a　few　questions　for　you。〃　
　Bullard　looked　at　him　for　a　moment；　then　shifted　the　cigar　back　into　his　mouth；　leaned　over　the　table；　and　gave　one　of　the　balls　a　little　tap。　
　〃If　it's　too　distracting　in　here；　we　can　always　do　this　downtown。〃　
　〃Just　a　minute。〃　
　D'Agosta　checked　his　watch。　He　glanced　back；　saw　the　mincing　attendant　watching　them　from　the　far　side　of　the　room；　his　hands　clasped　in　front　of　him　as　if　he　was　an　usher　in　church；　smirking　faintly。　
　Bullard　now　put　his　back　to　D'Agosta；　leaning　far　over　the　table；　the　silk　stretching　and　hiking　up；　exposing　a　crisp　expanse　of　white　cotton　shirt　and　a　pair　of　red　suspenders。　Another　faint　tap；　more　rustling　silk。　
　〃Bullard；　your　minute's　up。〃　
　Bullard　jerked　his　cue　up；　whisked　some　chalk　on　the　tip；　bent　back　down。　The　motherfucker　was　actually　going　to　take　a　few　more　shots。　
　〃You're　pissing　me　off；　you　know　that？〃　
　Bullard　took　the　shot；　rounded　the　table　for　another。　〃Then　maybe　what　you　need　is　a　course　in　anger　management。〃　He　eased　the　cue　back　and　forth　and　then；　with　the　softest　little　push；　sent　the　ball　all　of　three　inches　so　that　it　kissed　another。　
　That　did　it。　〃Bullard；　one　more　shot　and　I'm　cuffing　you　and　leading　you　out　the　front　door；　past　the　porter　and　anyone　else　who　happens　to　e　by。　I'm　going　to　march　you　down　along　Central　Park　South　to　Columbus　Circle　where　I　parked　my　squad　car。　And　then　I'm　going　to　radio　for　backup　and　keep　you　standing　at　the　curb　at　Columbus　Circle；　hands　cuffed　behind　your　back；　through　the　ass　end　of　a　Saturday　afternoon；　until　that　backup　arrives。〃　
　Bullard's　hand　paused　on　the　cue　stick。　Then　he　straightened　up；　jaw　muscles　tight。　He　slipped　his　hand　into　his　suit　coat　and　began　punching　a　call　on　his　cell。　〃I　think　I'll　just　tell　the　mayor　how　one　of　his　finest　has　just　threatened　me　with　four…letter　expletives。〃　
　〃You　do　that。　In　case　you　hadn't　noticed；　I'm　Southampton　P。D。　and　could　give　a　flying　fuck　about　your　mayor。〃　
　Bullard　raised　the　phone　to　his　ear　and　inserted　the　cigar　in　his　mouth。　〃Then　you're　out　of　your　jurisdiction；　and　threatening　me　with　arrest　is　misrepresentation。〃　
　〃I'm　an　assigned　liaison　with　the　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation；　Southern　District　of　Manhattan　Field　Office。〃　D'Agosta　opened　his　wallet；　pulled　out　one　of　the　cards　Pendergast　had　given　him；　tossed　it　onto　the　pool　table。　〃If　you　want　to　plain　to　the　supervisor；　he's　Special　Agent　Carlton　and　his　number's　right　there。〃　
　That　finally　penetrated。　Bullard　slowly　and　deliberately　snapped　the　phone　shut。　Then　he　dropped　the　cigar　into　a　sand…filled　spittoon　in　the　corner；　where　it　continued　to　smoke。　〃All　right。　You've　managed　to　attract　my　attention。〃　
　D'Agosta　flipped　out　his　notebook。　He　wasn't　going　to　waste　any　more　time。　
　〃On　October　16；　at　2：02A。M。　；　Jeremy　Grove　placed　a　call　to　your　unlisted　private　number。　On　your　yacht；　I　believe。　The　call　lasted　forty…two　minutes。　Is　this　correct？〃　
　〃I　have　no　recollection　of　such　a　call。〃　
　〃Yeah？〃　D'Agosta　slipped　a　photocopy　of　the　phone　record　out　of　his　notebook　and　held　it　out。　〃Telephone　pany　records　say　different。〃　
　〃I　don't　need　to　see　that。〃　
　〃Who　else　was　there　at　that　time　who　might　have　taken　the　call？　I'd　like　the　names。　Girlfriend；　cook；　babysitter；　whatever。〃　He　poised　his　pen。　
　A　long　silence。　〃I　was　alone　on　my　yacht　at　the　time。〃　
　〃So　who　picked　up　the　phone？　The　cat？〃　
　〃I　won't　answer　any　more　questions　without　my　lawyer　present。〃　
　The　guy　had　a　voice　to　match　the　face；　deep　and　scarred；　and　when　he　spoke　it　was　as　if　he　was　scratching　a　match　along　D'Agosta's　spinal　cord。　〃Let　me　tell　you　something；　Mr。　Bullard：　you　just　lied　to　me。　You　lied　to　a　police　officer。　That's　obstruction　of　justice。　You　can　call　your　lawyer　if　you　like；　but　it'll　be　from　downtown　and　I'll　be　escorting　you　out　of　here　now。　Is　that　how　you　want　it？　Or　should　we　try　it　again？〃　
　〃This　is　a　gentlemen's　club；　and　I'll　thank　you　not　to　raise　your　voice。〃　
　〃I'm　a　little　hard　of　hearing；　see；　and　anyway；　I'm　not　a　gentleman。〃　
　He　waited。　
　Bullard's　white　lips　curled　in　what　might　have　been　a　smile。　〃Now　that　you　mention　it；　I　do　remember　that　call　from　Grove。　We　hadn't　talked　in　a　long　time。〃　
　〃What　did　you　talk　about？〃　
　〃This　and　that。〃　
　〃This　and　that。〃　D'Agosta　wrote　it　down。This　and　that　。　〃For　forty…two　minutes？〃　
　〃Catching　up；　that　sort　of　thing。〃　
　〃How　well　did　you　know　Grove？〃　
　〃We'd　run　into　each　other　a　few　times。　We　weren't　friends。〃　
　〃When　did　you　first　meet　him？〃　
　〃Years　ago。　I　don't　remember。〃　
　〃I　ask　again；　what　did　you　talk　about？〃　
　〃He　told　me　what　he'd　been　up　to　lately…〃　
　〃Which　was？〃　
　〃I　can't　remember　specifically。　Writing　articles；　dinner　parties；　that　sort　of　thing。〃　
　It　was　just　like　Cutforth：　the　motherfucker　was　lying；　lying；　lying。　〃And　you？　What　did　you　talk　about　with　him？〃　
　〃Much　of　the　same。　My　work；　my　pany。〃　
　〃What　was　the　reason　for　the　phone　call？〃　
　〃You'll　have　to　ask　him。　We　were　just　catching　up。〃　
　〃He　called　you　after　midnight　just　to　catch　up？〃　
　〃That's　right。〃　
　〃How　did　he　happen　to　know　your　number？　It's　unlisted。〃　
　〃I　suppose　I　must've　given　it　to　him　once。〃　
　〃I　thought　he　wasn't　your　friend。〃　
　Bullard　shrugged。　〃Maybe　he　got　it　from　someone　else。〃　
　D'Agosta　paused　to　look　at　Bullard。　He　was　standing　off　to　one　side；　half　in　shadow；　half　in　light。　He　still　couldn't　see　the　man's　eyes。　
　〃Did　Grove　seem　frightened　or　apprehensive　to　you？〃　
　〃Not　that　I　could　tell。　I　really　can't　remember。〃　
　〃Do　you　know　a　Nigel　Cutforth？〃　
　There　was　a　slight　beat　before　Bullard's　response。　〃No。〃　
　〃What　about　a　Ranier　Beckmann？〃　
　〃No。〃　No　pause　this　time。　
　〃A　Count　Isidor　Fosco？〃　
　〃The　name's　familiar。　I　think　I've　seen　it　in　the　society　pages　once　or　twice。〃　
　〃Lady　Milbanke？　Jonathan　Frederick？〃　
　〃No　and　no。〃　
　This　was　hopeless。　D'Agosta　knew　when　he　was　beaten。　He　slapped　the　notebook　shut。　〃We're　not　done　with　you；　Mr。　Bullard。〃　
　Bullard　had　already　turned　back　to　his　pool　table。　〃But　I　am　most　certainly　done　with　you；　Sergeant。〃　
　D'Agosta　turned　on　his　heel；　and　then　paused。　He　turned　back。　〃I　hope　you're　not　planning　any　trips　out　of　the　country；　Mr。　Bullard。〃　
　Silence。　Encouraged；　D'Agosta　pursued　the　line。　〃I　could　get　you　declared　a　material　witness；　restrict　your　movements。〃　D'Agosta　knew　he　could　do　no　such　thing；　but　his　sixth　sense　told　him　he　had　finally　struck　a　v