cb.damnationgame-第17节

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　　〃It's　a　bizarre　place；〃　she　said；　and　led　the　way　around　the　barrel…shaped　building　to　the　door。　She　had　some　difficulty　pushing　it　open；　the　damp　weather　had　swelled　the　wood。　Marty　had　to　double　up　to　follow　her　inside。　It　was　even　chillier　there　than　out；　and　he　shivered；　the　sweat　on　his　brow　and　sternum　cooling　now　he'd　stopped　running。　But　it　was；　as　she　had　promised；　bizarre：　just　a　single　round　room　with　a　hole　in　the　roof　to　allow　the　birds　access　and　egress。　The　walls　were　lined　with　square　holes；　nesting　niches　presumably；　set　in　perfect　rows…like　tenement　windows…from　floor　to　roof。　All　were　empty。　Judging　by　the　absence　of　excrement　or　feathers　on　the　floor；　the　building　had　not　been　used　in　many　years。　Its　forsakenness　gave　it　a　melancholy　air；　its　unique　architecture　rendered　it　useless　for　any　function　but　that　for　which　it　had　been　built。　The　girl　had　crossed　the　impacted　earth　floor　and　was　counting　the　nesting　niches　around　from　the　door。
　　〃Seventeen；　eighteen…〃　He　watched　her　back。　Her　hair　was　unevenly　cropped　at　the　nape　of　her　neck。　The　coat　she　wore　was　too　big　for　her：　it　wasn't　even　hers；　he　guessed。　Who　was　she？　Pearl's　daughter？
　　She'd　stopped　counting。　Now　she　put　her　hand　into　one　of　the　holes；　making　a　little　noise　of　discovery　as　her　fingers　located　something。　It　was　a　hiding　place；　he　realized。　She　was　about　to　trust　him　with　a　secret。　She　turned；　and　showed　him　her　treasure。
　　〃I'd　forgotten　till　I　came　back　in；〃　she　said；　〃what　I　used　to　hide　here。〃　It　was　a　fossil；　or　rather　the　fragment　of　one；　a　spiral　shell　that　had　lain　at　the　bottom　of　some　pre…Cambrian　sea；　before　the　world　was　green。　In　its　flutes；　which　she　was　stroking；　motes　of　dust　gathered。　It　crossed　Marty's　mind；　watching　the　intensity　of　her　involvement　with　this　piece　of　stone；　that　the　girl　was　not　entirely　sane。　But　the　thought　vanished　when　she　looked　up　at　him；　her　eyes　were　too　clear　and　too　willful。　If　she　had　any　insanity　in　her　it　was　invited；　a　streak　of　lunacy　she　was　pleased　to　entertain。　She　grinned　at　him　as　if　she'd　known　what　he　was　thinking：　cunning　and　charm　were　mixed　in　her　face　in　equal　parts。
　　〃Are　there　no　doves；　then？〃　he　said。
　　〃No；　there　haven't　been；　as　long　as　I've　been　here。〃　〃Not　even　a　few？〃　〃If　you　just　have　a　few　they　die　in　winter。　If　you　keep　a　full　dovecote　they　all　keep　each　other　warm。　But　when　there's　only　a　handful　they　don't　generate　enough　heat；　and　they　freeze　to　death。〃　He　nodded。　It　seemed　regrettable　to　leave　the　building　empty。
　　〃They　should　fill　it　up　again。〃　〃I　don't　know；〃　she　said。　〃I　like　it　like　this。〃　She　slipped　the　fossil　back　into　her　hidey…hole。
　　〃Now　you　know　my　special　place；〃　she　said；　and　the　cunning　had　gone；　it　was　all　charm。　He　was　entranced。
　　〃I　don't　know　your　name。〃　〃Carys；〃　she　said；　then　after　a　moment；　added：　〃It's　Welsh。〃　〃Oh。〃　He　couldn't　help　staring　at　her。　She　suddenly　seemed　embarrassed；　and　she　went　back　to　the　door　quickly；　ducking　out　into　the　open　air。　It　had　begun　to　rain；　a　soft；　mid…March　drizzle。　She　put　up　the　hood　of　her　duffle　coat；　he　put　up　his　track…suit　hood。
　　〃Maybe　you'll　show　me　the　rest　of　the　grounds？〃　he　said；　not　certain　that　this　was　the　appropriate　question；　but　more　certain　that　he　didn't　want　this　conversation　to　end　here　without　some　possibility　of　them　meeting　again。　She　made　a　nonmittal　noise　by　way　of　reply。　The　corners　of　her　mouth　were　tucked　down。
　　〃Tomorrow？〃　he　said。
　　This　time　she　didn't　answer　at　all。　Instead；　she　started　to　walk　toward　the　house。　He　tagged　along；　knowing　their　exchange　would　falter　entirely　if　he　didn't　find　some　way　to　keep　it　alive。
　　〃It's　strange　being　in　the　house　with　no　one　to　talk　to；〃　he　said。
　　That　seemed　to　strike　a　chord。
　　〃It's　Papa's　house；〃　she　said　simply。　〃We　just　live　in　it。〃　Papa。　So；　she　was　his　daughter。　Now　he　recognized　the　old　man's　mouth　on　her；　those　pinched…down　corners　that　on　him　seemed　so　stoical；　and　on　her；　simply　sad。
　　〃Don't　tell　anyone；〃　she　said。
　　He　presumed　she　meant　about　their　meeting；　but　he　didn't　press　her。　There　were　more　important　questions　to　ask；　if　she　didn't　race　away。　He　wanted　to　signal　his　interest　in　her。　But　he　could　think　of　nothing　to　say。　The　sudden　change　in　her　tempo；　from　gentle；　elliptical　conversation　to　this　staccato；　confounded　him。
　　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　he　asked。
　　She　looked　around　at　him；　and　beneath　her　hood　she　seemed　almost　to　be　in　mourning。
　　〃I　have　to　hurry；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　wanted。〃　She　picked　up　the　pace　of　her　step；　signaling　only　in　the　hunch　of　her　shoulders　a　desire　to　leave　him　behind。　He　obliged　and　slowed；　leaving　her　to　go　back　to　the　house　without　a　glance　or　a　wave。
　　Rather　than　return　to　the　kitchen；　where　he'd　have　to　endure　Pearl's　banter　while　he　breakfasted；　he　started　back　across　the　field；　giving　the　dovecote　a　wide　berth；　until　he　reached　the　perimeter　fence；　and　punished　himself　with　another　plete　circuit。　When　he　ran　into　the　woods　he　found　himself　involuntarily　scanning　the　ground　underfoot；　looking　for　fossils。
　　
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　　Two　days　later；　about　eleven…thirty　at　night；　he　got　a　summons　from　Whitehead。
　　〃I'm　in　the　study；〃　he　said　on　the　phone。　〃I'd　like　a　word　with　you。〃　The　study；　though　it　boasted　half　a　dozen　lamps；　was　almost　in　darkness。　Only　the　crane…necked　lamp　on　the　desk　burned；　and　that　threw　its　light　onto　a　heap　of　papers　rather　than　into　the　room。　Whitehead　was　sitting　in　the　leather　chair　beside　the　window。　On　the　table　beside　him　was　a　bottle　of　vodka　and　an　almost　empty　glass。　He　didn't　turn　when　Marty　knocked　and　entered；　but　simply　addressed　Marty　from　his　vantage　point　in　front　of　the　floodlit　lawn。
　　〃I　think　it's　time　I　gave　you　more　leash；　Strauss；〃　he　said。　〃You've　done　a　fine　job　so　far。　I'm　pleased。〃　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃　〃Bill　Toy　will　be　up　here　overnight　tomorrow；　and　so　will　Luther；　so　this　might　be　an　opportunity　for　you　to　go　down　to　London。〃　It　was　eight　weeks；　almost　to　the　day；　since　he'd　arrived　at　the　estate：　and　here；　at　last；　was　a　tentative　signal　that　his　place　was　secure。
　　〃I've　had　Luther　sort　out　a　vehicle　for　you。　Speak　to　him　about　it　when　he　arrives。　And　there's　some　money　on　the　desk　for　you…〃　Marty　glanced　across　at　the　desk…top；　there　was　indeed　a　pile　of　notes　there。
　　〃Go　on；　take　it。〃　Marty's　fingers　fairly　itched；　but　he　kept　control　of　his　enthusiasm。
　　〃It'll　cover　petrol　and　a　night　in　the　city。〃　Marty　didn't　count　the　notes；　simply　folded　them　and　pocketed　them。
　　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃　〃There's　an　address　there　too。〃　〃Yes；　sir。〃　〃Take　it。　The　shop　belongs　to　a　man　called　Halifax。　He　supplies　me　with　strawberries；　out　of　season。　Will　you　pick　up　my　order；　please？〃　〃Of　course。〃　〃That's　the　only　errand　I　want　you　to　run。　As　long　as　you're　back　by　midmorning　Saturday；　the　rest　of　the　time's　your　own。〃　〃Thank　you。〃　Whitehead's　hand　reached　out　for　the　glass　of　vodka；　and　Marty　thought　he　was　going　to　turn　and　look　at　him；　he　didn't。　This　interview　was　apparently　over。
　　〃Is　that　all；　sir？〃　〃All？　Yes；　I　think　so。　Don't　you？〃
　　
　　It　was　many　months　since　Whitehead　had　gone　to　bed　sober。　He'd　started　to　use　vodka　as　a　soporific　when　the　night　terrors　began；　at　first　just　a　glass　or　two　to　dull　the　edge　of　his　fear；　then　gradually　increasing　the　dosage　as；　with　time；　his　body　became　immune　to　it。　He　took　no　pleasure　in　drunkenness。　He　loathed　putting　his　spinning　head　down　on　the　pillow　and　hearing　his　thoughts　whine　in　his　ears。　But　he　feared　the　fear　more。
　　Now；　as　he　sat　watching　the　lawn；　a　fox　stepped　across　the　threshold　of　the　floodlights；　blanched　by　the　brilliant　illumination；　and　stared　at　the　house。　Its　stillness　lent　it　perfection；　its　eyes；　catching　the　light；　gleamed　in　its　pricked　head。　It　waited　a　moment　only。　Suddenly　it　seemed　to　sense　danger…the　dogs　perhaps…and　it　turned　tail　and　was　gone。　Whitehead　still　watched　the　spot　it　had　disappeared　from　long　after　it　had　loped　away；　hoping　against　hope　that　it　would　e　back　and　share　his　solitude　for　a　space。　But　it　had　other　business　in　the　night。
　　There　was　a　time　when　he'd　been　a　fox：　thin　and　sharp；　a　night　wanderer。　But　things　had　changed。　Providence　had　been　bountiful；　dreams　had　e　true；　and　the　fox；　always　a　shape…changer；　had　grown　fat　and　easy。　The　world　had　changed　too：　it　had　bee　a　geography　of　profit　and　loss。　Distances　had　shrunk　to　the　length　of　his　mand。　He　had　forgotten；　with　time；　his　previous　life。
　　But　of　late　he　remembered　it　more　and　more。　It　came　back　in　brilliant　but　reproachful　detail；　when　the　events　of　the　day　before　were　a　fog。　But　he　knew　in　his　heart　of　hearts　there　was　no　way　back　to　that　blessed　state。
　　And　forward　from　here？　That　was　a　journey　into　a　hopeless　place；　where　no　signpost　would　point　him　right　or　left…all　directions　being　equal　there…nor　would　there　be　hill　or　tree　or　habitation　to　mark　the　way。　Such　a　place。　Such　a　terrible　place。
　　But　he　wouldn't　be　alone　there。　In　that　nowhere　he　would　have　a　panion。
　　And　when；　in　the　fullness　of　time；　he　set　his　eyes　on　that　land　and　its　tenant　he　would　wish；　oh　Christ　how　he　would　wish；　that　he　had　stayed　a　fox。
　　
　　III　The　Last　European
　　
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　　Anthony　Breer；　the　Razor…Eater；