p&c.brimstone-第44节

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it　the　gas　tank；　and　the　vehicle　went　up　with　a　muffled　thump；　a　ball　of　fire　roiling　skyward　as　the　car　left　the　lane　and　rolled　gently　into　a　grove　of　trees。　The　door　flew　open　and　a　burning　man　got　out；　took　a　few　halting　steps；　paused；　and　slowly　toppled　forward。　In　the　distance；　the　television　van　was　careening　out　of　the　park；　vanishing　into　the　warren　of　streets　to　the　west。　
　The　park　was　bedlam：　kids　and　adults　scattered　across　the　ground；　cowering　and　screaming。　D'Agosta　rushed　to　where　Pendergast　had　fallen；　relieved　beyond　measure　when　he　saw　the　FBI　agent　was　sitting　up。　The　two　Chinese　were　dead；　and　the　cameraman；　who'd　practically　been　torn　in　half；　was　obviously　on　his　way　out；　too。　But　no　civilians　had　been　so　much　as　scratched。　It　seemed　a　miracle。　
　D'Agosta　knelt　in　the　grass。　〃Pendergast；　you　all　right？〃　
　Pendergast　waved；　face　ashen；　temporarily　unable　to　speak。　
　One　of　the　other　FBI　agents　came　running　up。　〃Wounded？　We　got　wounded？〃　
　〃Agent　Pendergast。　The　cameraman's　beyond　help。〃　
　〃Backup　and　medical　are　on　the　way。〃　And；　in　fact；　D'Agosta　could　now　hear　sirens　converging　on　the　park。　
　Pendergast　helped　one　of　the　children　he'd　protected…a　boy　of　about　eight…to　a　standing　position。　His　father　rushed　over　and　clasped　the　child　in　his　arms。　〃You　saved　his　life；〃　he　said。　〃You　saved　his　life。〃　
　D'Agosta　helped　Pendergast　up。　Blood　was　soaking　through　one　side　of　his　dirty　shirt。　
　〃That　fellow　winged　me；〃　Pendergast　said。　〃It's　nothing；　a　flesh　wound。　I　lost　my　wind；　that's　all。〃　
　Slowly；　hesitantly；　people　began　converging　on　the　park　from　the　surrounding　houses；　crowding　around　the　burning　hulk　of　the　Mercedes　and　the　nearby　corpse。　Newly　arrived　cops　were　shouting；　covering　the　corners；　setting　up　a　cordon；　yelling　at　the　gathering　crowd　to　keep　back。　
　〃Damn；〃　said　D'Agosta。　〃Those　fuckers　from　BAI　were　expecting　a　firefight。〃　
　〃Indeed　they　were。　And　no　wonder。〃　
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃　
　〃I　overheard　just　enough　to　learn　Bullard's　men　were　calling　the　deal　off。〃　
　〃Calling　the　dealoff　？〃　
　〃On　the　very　eve　of　success；　apparently。　Now　you　can　see　the　reason　for　the　elaborate　setup…the　park；　the　children。　They　knew　the　Chinese　would　not　be　pleased。　This　was　their　attempt　to　avoid　being　shot　to　pieces。〃　
　D'Agosta　glanced　around　at　the　carnage。　〃Hayward's　gonna　love　this。〃　
　〃She　should。　If　we　hadn't　run　that　wiretap　and　been　here　to　take　down　those　shooters；　I　hate　to　think　what　might　have　happened。〃　
　D'Agosta　shook　his　head　and　looked　at　the　burning　Mercedes；　now　being　hosed　down　by　a　fire　truck。　〃You　know　what？　This　case　just　keeps　getting　weirder　and　weirder。〃　
　　　
　36　
　
　The　Reverend　Wayne　P。　Buck　Jr。　sat　at　the　counter　of　the　LastGasp　truck　stop　in　Yuma；　Arizona；　stirring　skim　milk　into　his　coffee。　Before　him　lay　the　remains　of　his　usual　breakfast：　white　toast　with　a　little　marmalade；　oatmeal　without　milk　or　sugar。　Outside；　beyond　the　flyspecked　window；　there　was　a　grinding　of　gears：　a　large　semi　pulled　off　the　apron；　its　steel　tank　flashing　in　the　brilliant　sun；　heading　west　toward　Barstow。　
　Reverend　Buck…the　title　was　honorary…took　a　sip　of　the　coffee。　Then；　methodical　in　everything　he　did；　he　finished　his　breakfast；　carefully　cleaning　the　bowl　with　the　edge　of　his　spoon　before　setting　it　aside。　He　took　another　sip　of　coffee；　replaced　the　cup　gently　in　its　saucer。　And　then　at　last　he　turned　to　his　morning　reading：　the　ten…inch　stack　of　periodicals　that　lay　tied　in　heavy　twine　on　the　far　end　of　the　counter。　
　As　Buck　cut　the　twine　with　a　pocketknife；　he　was　aware　of　a　sense　of　anticipation。　His　morning　reading　was　always　a　high　point　of　the　day：　a　trucker；　whom　he'd　cured　of　fits　at　a　camp　revival　several　months　before；　always　left　a　bundle　of　outdated　newspapers　for　him　outside　the　truck　stop　every　morning。　The　papers　varied　from　day　to　day；　and　Buck　never　knew　what　he'd　find。　Yesterday　there'd　been　a　copy　of　theNew　Orleans　Times…Picayune　in　among　the　more　monPhoenix　Sun　andLos　Angeles　Times　。　But　his　tingle　of　anticipation；　he　knew；　extended　beyond　the　selection　of　reading　material。　
　Reverend　Buck　had　been　in　the　vicinity　of　Yuma　almost　a　year　now；　ministering　to　the　truckers；　the　waitresses　and　busboys；　the　migrant　workers；　the　broken　and　wandering　and　uncertain　souls　that　passed　through　on　their　way　to　some　place　and　rarely　lingering　long。　The　work　was　its　own　reward；　and　he　never　plained。　The　reason　there　were　so　many　sinners　in　the　world；　he　knew；　was　that　nobody　had　ever　bothered　to　sit　down　and　talk　to　them。　Buck　did　just　that：　he　talked。　Read　to　people　from　the　Good　Book；　let　them　know　how　to　prepare　for　what　was　ing；　and　ing　soon。　He'd　talk　to　the　drivers；　one　at　a　time　here　at　the　counter；　long…haul　truckers　just　stopping　in　for　a　leak　and　a　sandwich。　He'd　talk　to　groups　of　two　or　three　regulars　in　the　evenings；　out　back　by　the　picnic　tables。　On　Sunday　mornings；　fifteen；　maybe　twenty；　at　the　old　Elks　lodge。　When　he　could　get　a　ride　to　the　reservation；　he'd　preach　there。　Most　people　were　receptive。　Nobody　had　explained　the　nature　of　sin　to　them；　the　terrifying　implacable　promise　of　the　End　Days。　When　people　were　sick；　he'd　pray　over　them；　when　people　were　grieving；　he'd　listen　to　their　problems；　recite　a　parable　or　some　words　of　Jesus。　They　paid　him　in　pocket　change；　a　few　hot　meals；　a　bed　for　the　night。　It　was　enough。　
　But　he'd　been　here　in　Yuma　a　long　spell　now。　There　were　other　places；　so　many　others；　that　needed　to　hear。　Every　day　that　went　by　meant　there　would　be　less　time。For　truly　I　tell　you；　you　will　not　have　gone　through　all　the　towns　of　Israel　before　the　Son　of　Man　es。　
　Buck　was　a　firm　believer　in　signs。　Nothing　that　happened　on　this　earth　happened　by　accident。　It　was　a　sign　that　carried　him　from　Broken　Arrow；　Oklahoma；　to　Borrego　Springs；　California；　last　year；　another　sign　that　had　brought　him　from　Borrego　Springs　here　to　Yuma　a　few　months　later。　One　of　these　days…maybe　next　week；　maybe　next　month…there　would　be　another　sign。　He　might　find　it　here　in　these　stacks　of　newspapers。　Or　he　might　find　it　in　the　story　of　a　passing　trucker。　But　the　sign　would　e；　and　he'd　be　gone；　gone　to　some　other　remote　spot　with　its　full　share　of　those　in　need　of　the　balm　of　salvation。　
　Reverend　Buck　plucked　the　first　newspaper　from　the　pile：　the　previous　Sunday'sSacramento　Bee　。　He　leafed　rather　quickly　through　the　national　and　local　pages…big　cities　like　Sacramento　could　always　be　counted　on　for　stories　of　murder；　rape；　corruption；　vice；　corporate　greed。　Buck　had　read　enough　such　stories　for　a　thousand　cautionary　sermons。　He　was　more　interested　in　the　squibs　and　sidebars；　the　news　bites　taken　off　the　wire　feeds　and　recounted　in　odd　corners　of　the　paper　for　reader　amusement。　The　tiny　town　where　two　brothers　hadn't　spoken　to　each　other　in　forty　years。　The　trailer　park　where　every　single　child　had　left；　a　runaway。　These　were　the　stories　that　spoke　to　him；　these　were　the　signs　that　impelled　him　and　his　message。　
　TheBee　pleted；　Buck　turned　to　the　next：USA　Today。　Laverne；　the　waitress；　came　over　with　coffeepot　in　hand。　〃Another　cup；　Reverend？〃　
　〃Just　one　more；　thank　you　kindly。〃　Buck　practiced　moderation　in　all　things。　One　cup　of　coffee　was　a　blessing；　two　cups　was　an　indulgence；　three　cups；　a　sin。　He　perused　the　paper；　put　it　aside；　and　picked　up　a　third：　a　day…old　copy　of　theNew　York　Post　。　Buck　came　across　this　tabloid　only　rarely；　and　he　had　nothing　but　scorn　for　it：　the　brazen　mouthpiece　of　the　world's　most　dissipated；　sin…ridden　city　held　no　interest　for　him。　He　was　about　to　put　it　aside　when　the　headline　caught　his　attention：　
　　　
　DESTRUCTION　
　Renowned　Scientist　Claims　Recent　Deaths　Signal　End　of　Days　
　by　Bryce　Harriman　
　　　
　More　slowly；　Buck　turned　the　page　and　began　to　read。　
　October　25；　2004…A　respected　scientist　yesterday　predicted　imminent　destruction　for　New　York　City　and　possibly　much　of　the　world。　
　Dr。　Friedrich　Von　Menck；　Harvard　scientist　and　Emmy　Award…winning　documentary　filmmaker；　says　the　recent　deaths　of　Jeremy　Grove　and　Nigel　Cutforth　are　merely　the　〃harbingers〃　of　the　ing　catastrophe。　
　For　fifteen　years　Dr。　Von　Menck　has　been　studying　mathematical　patterns　in　the　famous　disasters　of　the　past。　And　no　matter　how　he　cuts　the　data；　one　number　shows　up：　the　year　2004。　
　Von　Menck's　theory　is　based　on　a　fundamental　ratio　known　as　the　golden　ratio…a　ratio　that　is　found　throughout　nature；　as　well　as　in　such　classical　architecture　as　the　Parthenon　and　the　paintings　of　Leonardo　da　Vinci。　Von　Menck　is　the　first　to　apply　it　to　history…with　sinister　implications。　
　Von　Menck's　research　has　revealed　that　many　of　the　worst　disasters　that　have　befallen　mankind　fit　the　same　ratio：　
　　　
　79　A。D。　：　Pompeii　
　426　A。D。　：　The　sack　of　Rome　
　877　A。D。　：　Destruction　of　Beijing　by　the　Mongols　
　1348　A。D。　：　The　Black　Death　
　1666　A。D。　：　The　Great　Fire　of　London　
　1906　A。D。　：　The　San　Francisco　Earthquake　
　These　and　many　more　dates　line　up　in　ratios　of　uncanny　precision。　
　And　what　do　these　natural　disasters　have　in　mon？　They　have　always　struck　an　important　world　city；　a　city　notable　for　its　wealth；　power；　technology…and；　Dr。　Von　Menck　adds；　neglect　of　the　spiritual。　Each　of　these　disasters　was