p&c.brimstone-第98节

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ou　hear　the　cornering　cry　of　the　dogs…it's　an　unmistakable　sound…you'll　know　I've　hit　the　line　and　they're　baying　at　me。　The　line　will　break　as　the　dogs　converge；　andthat's　when　you　can　pass。　Then；　andonly　then。　Is　that　clear？Listen　for　the　cornering　cry。　When　you　break　through；　head　straight　to　the　Greve　road。〃　
　〃And　you？〃　
　Pendergast　held　up　the　gun。　
　〃With　three　shots？　You'll　never　do　it。〃　
　〃There's　no　other　way。〃　
　〃But　where　will　I　meet　up　with　you？　The　Greve　road？〃　
　Pendergast　shook　his　head。　〃Don't　wait　for　me。　Get　thecolonnello　and　return　in　full　force　as　soon　as　possible。In　full　force。　You　understand？　Take　the　machine…you'll　need　it　to　convince　him。〃　
　〃But　。　。　。〃　D'Agosta　stopped。　And　then…only　then…did　the　full　consequences　of　Pendergast's　intentions　reveal　themselves　to　him。　
　〃The　hell　with　that；〃　he　said。　〃We　go　together。〃　
　The　baying　grew　closer。　
　〃Only　one　of　us　can　get　through。　There's　no　other　way。　Now；go！　〃　
　〃I　won't。　No　way　。　。　。　I'mnot　leaving　you　to　the　dogs　。　。　。〃　
　〃Damnyou；　Vincent；　youmust！　〃　And　without　another　word；　Pendergast　turned　his　back　and　took　off　downhill。　
　〃No！〃　D'Agosta　shouted。〃Noooo…！〃　
　But　it　was　too　late。　
　He　felt　paralyzed；　rooted　to　the　spot　in　disbelief。　Pendergast's　thin　black　figure　was　leaping　like　a　cat　down　the　hill；　gun　upraised…and　then　it　vanished　into　the　trees。　
　There　was　nothing　to　do　but　follow　the　plan。　Almost　robotically；　D'Agosta　began　scrambling　along　the　hill；　moving　laterally；　until　he　had　gone　about　three　hundred　yards。　He　turned；　prepared　to　descend。　
　Then　he　stopped。　Ahead；　in　a　thickly　wooded　copse　beneath　a　spur　of　rock；　stood　a　lone　figure。　From　any　other　vantage　point；　he　would　have　been　invisible　below　the　outcropping　of　rock。　He　stood　very　still；　looking　at　D'Agosta。　
　Jesus；D'Agosta　thought。This　is　it。　
　He　reached　for　the　microwave　device；　thought　better　of　it。　The　man　wasn't　armed；　or；　if　he　was；　his　weapon　was　out　of　sight。　This　situation　was　better　handled　with　bare　hands。　He　gathered　himself　to　leap　forward。　
　But　then　he　hesitated。　Though　the　man　was　dressed　in　peasant　garb；　he　seemed　different　from　the　rest　of　Fosco's　men。　He　was　very　tall　and　slender；　perhaps　four　inches　taller　than　Pendergast；　and　he　wore　a　closely　trimmed　beard。　There　was　something　strange　about　his　eyes。　They　were　different　colors：　the　left　was　hazel；　the　right　an　intense　blue。　
　Maybe　he's　a　local；D'Agosta　thought。Or　a　poacher；　or　something。　Great　fucking　time　to　be　out　for　a　stroll。　
　Suddenly；　he　became　aware　of　the　dogs　again。　They　were　still　baying：　a　regular；　measured　sound；　as　before。　
　No　more　time　to　waste。　The　man　had　turned　calmly　away　from　him；　uninterested。　D'Agosta　began　descending　slowly；　waiting　for　the　change　in　the　dogs'　cry。　He　glanced　back　once　and　saw　the　stranger；　still　motionless；　looking　intently　downslope。　
　D'Agosta　turned　back　and　continued　slowly　and　carefully　down　through　the　forest。Forget　him。　The　important　thing　now　was　Pendergast。　He　would　escape。　He　had　to；　hehad　to　。　。　。　
　And　then；　suddenly；　off　to　his　right　and　below；　he　heard　a　single　dog　barking　hysterically；　its　voice　sounding　a　much　higher；　more　urgent　note　than　before。　He　paused；　listening。　Another　took　up　the　cry；　then　a　third。　In　a　moment；　the　whole　line　had　taken　it　up。　D'Agosta　could　hear　them　converging　on　a　single　spot　with　a　babel　of　high…pitched　barking。　Then　came　the　report　of　a　gun；　the　shriek　of　a　dog。　The　frenzy　increased　in　pitch。　It　was　a　terrifying　sound；　interrupted　by　a　second　shot；　then　a　third。　These　were　followed　in　turn　by　the　lower　boom…boomof　an　old；　heavy…caliber　carbine。　D'Agosta　could　see　nothing　through　the　dense　brush；　but　he　could　hear　what　was　happening　all　too　clearly。　
　This　was　his　chance。　Hugging　the　machine　close　to　him；　D'Agosta　ran　downhill　as　hard　and　fast　as　he　could；　leaping；　ripping　through　brambles；　stumbling；　recovering；　running　on　and　on。　He　broke　through　a　small　clearing；　and　there…far　off　to　his　right　now…he　caught　one　last　glimpse　of　Pendergast：　a　lone　figure　in　black；　surrounded　by　a　boiling　pack　of　dogs；　a　dozen　or　more　men　converging　from　two　sides　and　below；　each　with　heavy　rifles　trained　on　him。　The　din　was　incredible；　the　frenzied　ring　of　dogs　closing　in；　the　bolder　ones　dashing　forward；　attempting　to　tear　out　chunks　of　flesh。　
　D'Agosta　kept　running；　running…and　then　he　was　past　the　line；　the　dogs'　terrible　ravening　cry　now　behind　and　above　him。　He　kept　on　going；　the　nightmarish　shrieking　of　the　dogs；　the　cursing　and　shouting　of　the　handlers；　ringing　ever　more　faintly　in　his　ears。　The　hunt　was　over；　the　quarry　cornered…only　it　wasn't　a　boar；　it　was　a　human　being。　Pendergast。　And　he　wasn't　going　to　escape：　not　this　time；　he　wasn't。　
　　　
　83　
　
　Buck　sat　on　the　cot　in　his　cell　at　the　Manhattan　Detention　Center；　listening　and　waiting。　It　was　a　modern；　sterile　facility；　all　white　walls　and　fluorescent　lighting；　the　lights　recessed　behind　caged　glass。　Despite　the　fact　that　it　was　past　midnight；　he　could　hear　a　lot　of　noise　from　the　other　prisoners；　who　were　banging　on　the　bars；　yelling；　arguing；　demanding　lawyers。　Some　were　shouting　in　unintelligible　languages　that　sounded　harsh；　almost　barbarous。　
　He'd　been　processed；　fingerprinted；　photographed；　showered；　given　a　change　of　clothes。　He'd　been　fed；　given　a　copy　of　theTimes　；　been　offered　a　phone　to　call　a　lawyer…and　told　absolutely　nothing。　It　seemed　he'd　been　in　the　cell　forever。　Every　hour　that　passed　turned　the　screw　another　notch。　When　would　it　begin？　Is　this　what　Christ　felt；　waiting　to　be　brought　before　Pontius　Pilate？　He　would　have　preferred　almost　anything…beating；　torture；　abuse…to　this　interminable　wait。　And　this　environment　was　sterile；　suffocating。　What　was　worse；　he'd　been　given　a　cell　to　himself。　His　treatment　was　almost　cruel　in　its　courtesy。　He　wondered　how　much　longer　he　could　stand　these　people　ing　and　going　with　his　food：　these　people　who　never　answered　his　questions；　never　looked　him　in　the　eye；　never　said　a　word。　
　He　knelt　to　pray。　When　wouldit　happen？　When　would　the　walls　shake；　the　voices　sound　on　high；　the　ground　open　to　swallow　the　unclean？　When　would　the　screams　of　the　damned　fill　the　air；　the　kings　and　princes　run　to　hide　among　the　rocks；　the　four　horsemen　of　the　Apocalypse　appear　in　the　sky？　He　didn't　even　have　a　window　to　look　out　of；　no　way　to　see　anything。　
　The　suspense　was　literally　killing　him。　
　Yet　another　guard　appeared：　a　large　black　man　in　a　blue　uniform；　carrying　a　tray。　
　〃What's　this？〃　Buck　asked；　looking　up。　
　No　answer。　The　man　opened　the　sliding　tray　in　the　bars；　set　it　down；　slid　it　in；　shut　the　slot；　turned；　and　walked　away。　
　〃What's　happening　out　there？〃　Buck　cried。　〃What's…？〃　
　But　the　orderly　had　disappeared。　
　Buck　rose　and　sat　down　again　on　the　bunk。　He　looked　at　the　food：　a　bagel　with　cream　cheese　and　jelly；　a　chicken　breast　sitting　in　some　congealed　gravy；　some　grayish　green　beans　and　carrots；　a　dollop　of　hardening　mashed　potatoes。　The　sheer　banality　of　it　made　him　sick。　
　Now；　above　the　usual　prison　sounds；　he　heard　something　else：　voices；　a　clang；　a　sudden　burst　of　shouting　from　the　other　prisoners。　Buck　stood　up。　
　Was　it　starting？　Was　it　starting　at　last？　
　Four　police　officers　appeared　down　the　hall；　heavily　armed；　billy　clubs　swinging　from　their　hips；　swaggering　in　formation。　For　him：　they　were　ingfor　him　。　He　felt　a　tingle　of　anticipation。　Something　would　happen　now。　It　might　be　very　hard。　It　would　no　doubt　test　him　to　the　utmost。　But　whatever　it　was；　he　would　accept　it。　It　was　part　of　God's　great　plan。　
　They　halted　outside　his　cell。　He　stared　back　at　them；　waiting。　One　stepped　forward　and　read　from　a　card　clipped　to　a　green　folder。　
　〃Wayne　Paul　Buck？〃　
　He　nodded；　stiffening。　
　〃You're　to　e　with　us。〃　
　〃I'm　ready；〃　he　said；　defiantly　but　with　quiet　dignity。　
　The　man　unlocked　the　cell。　The　others　stood　back；　guns　at　the　ready。　
　〃Step　out；　please。　Turn　around　and　place　your　hands　behind　your　back。〃　
　He　did　as　he　was　told。　It　was　going　to　be　bad；　very　bad：　he　could　feel　it。　The　cold　steel　of　the　cuffs　went　around　his　wrists；　and　there　was　a　click：　a　portent　of　things　to　e。　
　〃This　way；　sir。〃　
　Sir。The　mocking　was　beginning。　
　They　marched　him　silently　down　the　hall　to　an　elevator；　rose　a　few　floors；　then　down　another　sterile　corridor　to　a　gray　metal　door。　They　knocked。　
　〃e　in；〃　said　a　feminine　voice。　
　The　door　opened；　and　Buck　found　himself　in　a　small　office　with　a　metal　desk；　a　single　window　looking　out　over　the　nightscape　of　lower　Manhattan。　Sitting　at　the　desk　wasthat　one；　the　female　cop　who　had　led　the　centurions　in　to　arrest　him。　
　He　stood　proudly　before　her；　unbowed。　She　was　his　Pontius　Pilate。　
　She　accepted　the　folder　from　the　lead　cop。　〃Have　you　had　access　to　a　lawyer？〃　she　asked。　
　〃I　don't　need　a　lawyer。　God　is　my　advocate。〃　He　noticed；　for　the　first　time；　how　pretty　she　was…and　how　young。　She　had　a　discreet　bandage　above　her　ear；　where　she　had　been　hit　with　the　rock。　He　had　saved　her　from　death。　
　The　devil　has　many　faces。　
　〃As　you　wish。〃　She　rose；　pulled　her　jacket　off　a　hook；　slid　into　it；　then　nodded　to　the　policemen。　〃Is　the　marshal　ready？〃　
　〃Yes；　Captain。〃　
　〃Let's　go；　then。〃