p&c.brimstone-第43节

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　East　Side　Park　was　an　overgrown　hillock　of　grass　and　the　occasional　shade　tree；　closely　hemmed　in　on　all　four　sides　by　houses。　A　lane　wandered　around　its　periphery；　and　D'Agosta　eased　the　car　onto　it；　passing　a　variety　of　pudding…stone　outbuildings　in　various　stages　of　disrepair。　Concrete　benches　with　green…painted　wooden　slats　lined　the　roadway。　Farther　along；　the　lane　veered　in　toward　a　height　of　land；　which　was　crowned　by　a　fountain　surrounded　by　a　black　wrought…iron　fence。　Several　cars　were　parked　along　the　curb　here；　including　their　own　lead　vehicle；　making　the　already　narrow　road　almost　impassable。　Ahead；　D'Agosta　could　see　the　TV　van。　It　had　pulled　onto　the　grass　between　a　brace　of　tennis　courts　and　a　baseball　field。　On　the　field　itself；　a　small　knot　of　kids　was　shooting　off　model　rockets；　supervised　by　half　a　dozen　parents。　A　man　with　a　television　camera　was　standing　by　the　van；　filming　the　event。　
　〃This　is　an　exceptionally　well　planned　meeting；　Vincent；〃　Pendergast　said　as　they　drove　slowly　past。　〃They're　meeting　in　the　middle　of　a　park。　No　chance　of　being　ambushed。　And　they're　surrounded　by　noisy　children　and　the　roar　of　rockets；　which　will　defeat　any　long…range　electronic　surveillance。　That　man　with　the　camera　is　their　lookout；　with　a　perfect　reason　to　be　staring　every　which　way　through　a　telephoto　lens。　Bullard　has　clearly　trained　his　men　well。　Ah；　pull　over　a　minute；　please；　Vincent：　here　e　the　Chinese。〃　
　In　the　rearview　mirror；　D'Agosta　could　make　out　a　long　black　Mercedes；　absurdly　out　of　place；　cruising　slowly　up　the　park　drive　behind　them。　It　pulled　onto　the　grass　across　the　tennis　courts　from　the　van。　Two　big　men　with　shaved　heads　and　dark　glasses　got　out；　looking　around　carefully。　Then　a　third；　smaller　man　exited　and　began　walking　across　the　grass　toward　the　van。　
　〃What　dreadful　lack　of　subtlety；〃　said　Pendergast。　〃It　appears　these　gentlemen　have　been　watching　too　much　television。〃　
　D'Agosta　eased　the　car　forward；　ing　to　a　stop　near　the　exit　back　onto　Broadway。　The　hill　fell　away　here　and　the　trees　were　more　numerous；　blocking　their　car　from　view。　
　〃Too　bad　I'm　in　uniform；〃　he　said。　
　〃On　the　contrary：　being　in　uniform；　you　will　be　the　last　one　they　suspect。　I'm　going　to　get　as　close　as　I　can；　see　if　I　can　learn　more　particulars　about　the　meeting。　You　buy　a　donut　and　coffee　over　there〃…he　nodded　to　a　dingy　coffee　shop　across　Broadway…〃then　wander　into　the　park。　Take　a　seat　on　one　of　the　benches　by　the　baseball　diamond；　where　you'll　have　a　clear　line　of　fire　should　anything　untoward　occur。　Let　us　hope；　with　these　children　around；　that　nothing　of　the　sort　occurs…but　be　ready　for　action　regardless。〃　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　
　Pendergast　gave　his　eyes　a　vigorous　rubbing。　When　his　grubby　hands　fell　away　again；　his　eyes　had　lost　their　clear；　silvery　hue。　Now　they　belonged　to　a　tippler：　uncertain；　watery；　red…rimmed。　
　D'Agosta　watched　Pendergast　get　out　of　the　car　and　amble　back　up　the　rise。　The　agent　was　wearing　a　brown　sport　coat　of　dubious　material；　a　faded　stain　between　the　shoulders；　double…knit　slacks　a　size　too　large；　a　pair　of　shabby　Hush　Puppies。　His　hair　was　several　shades　darker　than　usual…just　how　the　hell　had　he　managed　that？…and　his　face　was　in　need　of　a　wash。　He　looked　exactly　like　a　man　who　was　down　but　not　quite　out；　clinging　to　a　few　shreds　of　respectability。　And　it　wasn't　just　the　clothes：　his　very　gait　had　changed　to　a　vague　shuffle；　his　body　language　tentative；　his　eyes　darting　this　way　and　that；　as　if　prepared　to　ward　off　an　unexpected　blow。　
　D'Agosta　stared　another　moment；　marveling。　Then　he　exited　the　car；　bought　a　coffee　and　a　glazed　donut　in　the　coffee　shop　across　the　street；　and　headed　back　into　the　park。　As　he　crested　the　little　rise　and　approached　the　diamond；　he　could　see　the　shorter　Chinese　man　getting　into　the　back　of　the　television　van。　His　large　panions　were　hanging　back　about　forty　paces；　arms　crossed。　
　There　was　awhooosh　as　a　model　rocket　went　off　to　scattered　cheers　and　clapping。　All　eyes　turned　skyward；　there　was　a　pop　and　the　rocket　came　drifting　back；　floating　beneath　a　red…and…white…striped　miniature　parachute。　
　D'Agosta　eased　himself　onto　a　bench　across　the　diamond　from　the　van。　He　slipped　the　lid　off　his　coffee；　pretending　to　watch　the　rockets　go　off。　This　was　strange：　the　would…be　cameraman　was　now　calling　the　kids　together；　apparently　to　film　them。　D'Agosta　wondered　if　the　cameraman　was　Chait；　Bullard's　main　man　in　New　York。　He　decided　otherwise：　Chait　was　no　doubt　inside　the　van　with　the　Chinese　honcho。　
　He　turned　his　attention　back　to　Pendergast。　The　agent　was　strolling　along　the　walkway　near　the　van。　He　paused；　fished　a　racing　form　out　of　the　trash；　shook　it　clear　of　debris；　then　stopped　to　chat　with　the　cameraman。　It　looked　like　he　might　be　asking　him　for　money。　The　man　scowled　and　shook　his　head；　motioning　Pendergast　to　move　on。　Then　the　man　turned　back　toward　the　children；　gesturing　for　them　to　line　up　with　their　rockets。　
　D'Agosta　felt　a　knot　tighten　in　his　stomach。　Why　the　hell　was　the　man　organizing　the　kids　like　that；　anyway？　Something　did　not　feel　right　at　all。　
　Meanwhile；　Pendergast　had　seated　himself　on　the　bench　next　to　the　van；　so　close　he　could　almost　touch　it；　and　was　going　through　the　racing　form　with　a　pencil　stub；　circling　various　horses　and　making　notes。　
　Then…inexplicably…Pendergast　stood　up；　went　to　the　back　door　of　the　van；　and　knocked。　
　The　cameraman　came　striding　over　immediately；　gesticulating　furiously；　shoving　Pendergast　aside。　D'Agosta　resisted　the　impulse　to　reach　for　his　gun。　The　back　doors　of　the　van　opened；　there　was　some　loud　talk；　the　doors　slammed　shut。　The　cameraman　gestured　angrily　for　Pendergast　to　move　off；　but　instead；　the　agent　shrugged　and　seated　himself　back　down　on　the　bench；　returning　to　his　study　of　the　racing　form；　perusing　it　with　languid　ease；　just　as　if　he　had　all　the　money　in　the　world　to　blow　on　the　horses。　
　D'Agosta　looked　around。　The　two　plainclothes　FBI　agents　were　strolling　along　the　far　side　of　the　baseball　diamond；　talking。　The　Chinese　goons　didn't　seem　to　have　noticed　them。　Their　attention　was　riveted　on　the　van　and　what　was　going　on　inside。　They　seemed　ready　for　something。Too　ready。　And　there　was　the　cameraman；　still　lining　up　the　kids；　as　if　he；　too；　was　expecting　something　to　happen　at　any　moment。　
　D'Agosta　felt　an　almost　unbearable　sense　of　apprehension。　He　asked　himself　why　Bullard's　men　had　gone　to　such　trouble　to　place　themselves　in　the　midst　of　these　kids。　They　had　no　inkling　they　were　under　surveillance。　The　tension　was　between　them　and　their　customers；　the　Chinese。　He'd　gathered　as　much　from　the　wiretap；　and　now　it　was　playing　out　here。　
　He　started　to　calculate　what　would　happen　if　the　Chinese　thugs　pulled　out　weapons　and　opened　fire　on　the　van。　The　kids　would　be　caught　in　cross　fire。　That's　what　it　was　all　about：　the　kids　were　protection。　Bullard's　men　wereexpecting　a　firefight：　the　cameraman　was　lining　up　the　kids　as　a　human　shield。　
　D'Agosta　dropped　his　coffee　and　donut　and　rose　from　the　bench；　hand　on　his　piece。　At　the　same　moment；　the　back　doors　of　the　van　flew　open；　and　the　little　Chinese　man　got　out　as　quickly　and　lightly　as　a　bird。　He　began　striding　across　the　baseball　diamond。　He　flicked　his　hand　toward　the　two　thugs…just　the　barest　gesture…and　broke　into　a　run。　
　D'Agosta　saw　the　two　reach　for　their　weapons。　
　Immediately；　he　dropped　to　one　knee；　steadied　his　grip　on　his　handgun；　and　aimed。　As　soon　as　a　weapon　appeared…an　Uzi；　by　the　look　of　it…he　squeezed　off　a　round；　and　just　missed。　
　Abruptly；　all　hell　broke　loose。　There　was　thepop！　pop！　pop！　of　semiautomatic…weapons　fire。　Kids　scattering；　grown…ups　yelling；　grabbing　their　kids　and　running　in　terror　or　throwing　themselves　to　the　ground。　An　Uzi　appeared　in　the　cameraman's　hand；　too；　but　before　he　could　fire；　he　was　struck　in　the　chest　by　a　hail　of　gunfire　and　flew　backward；　slamming　against　the　side　of　the　van。　
　D'Agosta　fired　a　second　time　at　the　goon　he'd　missed；　stopping　him　with　a　well…placed　round　to　the　knee。　The　other　turned　toward　the　unexpected　fire；　swinging　his　Uzi　and　spraying　automatic　fire　across　the　outfield；　Pendergast；　shielding　two　children　with　his　own　body；　coolly　dropped　the　man　with　a　shot　to　the　head。　As　the　man　went　down；　his　Uzi　swung　wildly；　still　firing；　small　clouds　of　dirt　erupted　in　the　grass　before　Pendergast；　then　the　agent　fell　sharply　back；　pushing　the　children　out　of　harm's　way　as　a　spray　of　blood　suddenly　darkened　his　arm。　
　〃Pendergast！〃　D'Agosta　screamed。　
　The　goon　D'Agosta　hit　refused　to　stay　down。　Now　the　man　had　rolled　over　and　was　firing　on　the　van；　the　rounds　whanging　its　side　and　sending　chips　of　paint　flying。　A　burst　of　fire　came　from　its　front　seat；　the　Chinese　goon　went　down　again；　and　the　van　pulled　away　with　a　squeal　of　tires。　
　〃Stop　them！〃　D'Agosta　yelled　at　the　two　agents。　They　were　already　up　and　running；　firing　futilely；　their　shots　ringing　off　the　van's　armored　sides。　
　Now　the　head　Chinese　had　reached　the　black　Mercedes。　As　it　roared　to　life；　the　two　agents　turned　their　fire　toward　it；　blowing　out　the　back　tires　as　the　car　swerved　into　the　lane。　A　round　hit　the　gas　tank；　and　the　vehicle　went　up　with　a　muffled　thump；　a　ball