preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第14节

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up。
　〃Sergeant？〃
　〃What。〃
　〃There　is　no　game。〃
　〃Of　course　not。〃　O'Shaughnessy　let　out　a　little　snort。　〃There　never　is。〃　He　realized　the　FBI　agent　was　looking　at　him　intently。　He　continued　looking　away。
　〃I　can　see　that　you're　under　a　misapprehension　here；　Sergeant；〃　came　the　drawl。　〃We　should　rectify　that　at　once。　You　see；　I　can　understand　why　you'd　jump　to　that　conclusion。　Five　years　ago；　you　were　caught　on　a　surveillance　tape　taking　two　hundred　dollars　from　a　prostitute　in　exchange　for　releasing　her。　I　believe　they　call　it　a　'shakedown。'　Have　I　got　that　right？〃
　O'Shaughnessy　felt　a　sudden　numbness；　followed　by　a　slow　anger。　Here　it　was　again。　He　said　nothing。　What　was　there　to　say？　It　would　have　been　better　if　they'd　cashiered　him。
　〃The　tape　got　sent　to　Internal　Affairs。　Internal　Affairs　paid　you　a　visit。　But　there　were　differing　accounts　of　what　happened；　nothing　was　proven。　Unfortunately；　the　damage　was　done；　and　since　that　time　you've　seen　your　career…how　should　I　put　it？…remain　in　stasis。〃
　O'Shaughnessy　continued　looking　out　the　window；　at　the　rush　of　buildings。　Remain　in　stasis。　You　mean；　go　nowhere。
　〃And　you've　caught　nothing　since　but　a　series　of　questionable　assignments　and　gray…area　errands。　Of　which　you　no　doubt　consider　this　one　more。〃
　O'Shaughnessy　spoke　to　the　window；　his　voice　deliberately　tired。　〃Pendergast；　I　don't　know　what　your　game　is；　but　I　don't　need　to　listen　to　this。　I　really　don't。〃
　〃I　saw　that　tape；〃　said　Pendergast。
　〃Good　for　you。〃
　〃I　heard；　for　example；　the　prostitute　pleading　with　you　to　let　her　go；　saying　that　her　pimp　would　beat　her　up　if　you　didn't。　Then　I　heard　her　insisting　you　take　the　two　hundred　dollars；　because　if　you　didn't；　her　pimp　would　assume　she　had　betrayed　him。　But　if　you　took　the　money；　he　would　only　think　she'd　bribed　her　way　out　of　custody　and　spare　her。　Am　I　right？　So　you　took　the　money。〃
　O'Shaughnessy　had　been　through　this　in　his　own　mind　a　thousand　times。　What　difference　did　it　make？　He　didn't　have　to　take　the　money。　He　hadn't　given　it　to　charity；　either。　Pimps　were　beating　up　prostitutes　every　day。　He　should've　left　her　to　her　fate。
　〃So　now　you're　cynical；　you're　tired；　you've　e　to　realize　that　the　whole　idea　of　protect　and　serve　is　farcical；　especially　out　there　on　the　streets；　where　there　doesn't　even　seem　to　be　right　or　wrong；　nobody　worth　protecting；　and　nobody　worth　serving。〃
　There　was　a　silence。
　〃Are　we　through　with　the　character　analysis？〃　O'Shaughnessy　asked。
　〃For　the　moment。　Except　to　say　that；　yes；　this　is　a　questionable　assignment。　But　not　in　the　way　you're　thinking。〃
　The　next　silence　stretched　into　minutes。
　They　stopped　at　a　light；　and　O'Shaughnessy　took　an　opportunity　to　cast　a　covert　glance　toward　Pendergast。　The　man；　as　if　knowing　the　glance　was　ing；　caught　his　eye　and　pinned　it。　O'Shaughnessy　almost　jumped；　he　looked　away　so　fast。
　〃Did　you；　by　any　chance；　catch　the　show　last　year；　Costuming　History？〃　Pendergast　asked；　his　voice　now　light　and　pleasant。
　〃What？〃
　〃I'll　take　that　as　a　no。　You　missed　a　splendid　exhibition。　The　Met　has　a　fine　collection　of　historical　clothing　dating　back　to　the　early　Middle　Ages。　Most　of　it　was　in　storage。　But　last　year；　they　mounted　an　exhibition　showing　how　clothing　evolved　over　the　last　six　centuries。　Absolutely　fascinating。　Did　you　know　that　all　ladies　at　Louis　XIV's　court　at　Versailles　were　required　to　have　a　thirteen…inch　waist　or　less？　And　that　their　dresses　weighed　between　thirty　and　forty　pounds？〃
　O'Shaughnessy　realized　he　didn't　know　how　to　answer。　The　conversation　had　taken　such　a　strange　and　sudden　tack　that　he　found　himself　momentarily　stunned。
　〃I　was　also　interested　to　learn　that　in　the　fifteenth　century；　a　man's　codpiece…〃
　This　tidbit　was　mercifully　interrupted　by　a　screech　of　brakes　as　the　Rolls　swerved　to　avoid　a　cab　cutting　across　three　lanes　of　traffic。
　〃Yankee　barbarians；〃　said　Pendergast　mildly。　〃Now；　where　was　I？　Ah　yes；　the　codpiece　。　。　。〃
　The　Rolls　was　caught　in　Midtown　traffic　now；　and　O'Shaughnessy　began　to　wonder　just　how　much　longer　this　ride　was　going　to　take。
　　
　The　Great　Hall　of　the　Metropolitan　Museum　was　sheeted　in　Beaux　Arts　marble；　decorated　with　vast　sprays　of　flowers；　and　almost　unbearably　crowded。　O'Shaughnessy　hung　back　while　the　strange　FBI　agent　talked　to　one　of　the　harried　volunteers　at　the　information　desk。　She　picked　up　a　phone；　called　someone；　then　put　it　down　again；　looking　highly　irritated。　O'Shaughnessy　began　to　wonder　what　this　Pendergast　was　up　to。　Throughout　the　extended　trip　uptown　he'd　said　nothing　about　his　intended　plan　of　action。
　He　glanced　around。　It　was　an　Upper　East　Side　crowd；　for　sure：　ladies　dressed　to　the　nines　clicking　here　and　there　in　high　heels；　uniformed　schoolchildren　lined　up　and　well　behaved；　a　few　tweedy…looking　academics　wandering　about　with　thoughtful　faces。　Several　people　were　staring　at　him　disapprovingly；　as　if　it　was　in　bad　taste　to　be　in　the　Met　wearing　a　police　officer's　uniform。　He　felt　a　rush　of　misanthropy。　Hypocrites。
　Pendergast　motioned　him　over；　and　they　passed　into　the　museum；　running　a　gauntlet　of　ticket　takers　in　the　process；　past　a　case　full　of　Roman　gold；　plunging　at　last　into　a　confusing　sequence　of　rooms　crowded　with　statues；　vases；　paintings；　mummies；　and　all　manner　of　art。　Pendergast　talked　the　whole　time；　but　the　crowds　were　so　dense　and　the　noise　so　deafening；　O'Shaughnessy　caught　only　a　few　words。
　They　passed　through　a　quieter　suite　of　rooms　full　of　Asian　art；　finally　arriving　in　front　of　a　door　of　shiny　gray　metal。　Pendergast　opened　it　without　knocking；　revealing　a　small　reception　area。　A　strikingly　good…looking　receptionist　sat　behind　a　desk　of　blond　wood。　Her　eyes　widened　slightly　at　the　sight　of　his　uniform。　O'Shaughnessy　gave　her　a　menacing　look。
　〃May　I　help　you？〃　She　addressed　Pendergast；　but　her　eyes　continued　to　flicker　anxiously　toward　O'Shaughnessy。
　〃Sergeant　O'Shaughnessy　and　Special　Agent　Pendergast　are　here　to　see　Dr。　Wellesley。〃
　〃Do　you　have　an　appointment？〃
　〃Alas；　no。〃
　The　receptionist　hesitated。　〃I'm　sorry。　Special　Agent…？〃
　〃Pendergast。　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。〃
　At　this　she　flushed　deeply。　〃Just　a　moment。〃　She　picked　up　her　phone。　O'Shaughnessy　could　hear　it　ringing　in　an　office　just　off　the　reception　area。
　〃Dr。　Wellesley；〃　the　secretary　said；　〃there　is　a　Special　Agent　Pendergast　from　the　FBI　and　a　police　officer　here　to　see　you。〃
　The　voice　that　echoed　out　of　the　office　was　easily　heard　by　all。　It　was　a　crisp；　no…nonsense　voice；　feminine；　yet　cold　as　ice；　and　so　unrelievedly　English　it　made　O'Shaughnessy　bristle。
　〃Unless　they　are　here　to　arrest　me；　Heather；　the　gentlemen　can　make　an　appointment　like　everyone　else。　I　am　engaged。〃
　The　crash　of　her　telephone　hitting　the　cradle　was　equally　unmistakable。
　The　receptionist　looked　up　at　them　with　high　nervousness。　〃Dr。　Wellesley…〃
　But　Pendergast　was　already　moving　toward　the　office　from　which　the　voice　had　issued。　This　is　more　like　it；　O'Shaughnessy　thought；　as　Pendergast　swung　open　the　door；　placing　himself　squarely　in　the　doorway。　At　least　the　guy；　for　all　his　pretensions；　was　no　pushover。　He　knew　how　to　cut　through　the　bullshit。
　The　unseen　voice；　laden　with　sarcasm；　cut　the　air。　〃Ah；　the　proverbial　copper　with　his　foot　in　the　door。　Pity　it　wasn't　locked　so　you　could　batter　it　down　with　your　truncheon。〃
　It　was　as　if　Pendergast　had　not　heard。　His　fluid；　honeyed　voice　filled　the　office　with　warmth　and　charm。　〃Dr。　Wellesley；　I　have　e　to　you　because　you　are　the　world's　foremost　authority　on　the　history　of　dress。　And　I　hope　you'll　permit　me　to　say　your　identification　of　the　Greek　peplos　of　Vergina　was　most　thrilling　to　me　personally。　I　have　long　had　an　interest　in　the　subject。〃
　There　was　a　brief　silence。　〃Flattery；　Mr。　Pendergast；　will　at　least　get　you　inside。〃
　O'Shaughnessy　followed　the　agent　into　a　small　but　very　well…appointed　office。　The　furniture　looked　like　it　had　e　directly　from　the　museum's　collection；　and　the　walls　were　hung　with　a　series　of　eighteenth…century　watercolors　of　opera　costumes。　O'Shaughnessy　thought　they　might　be　the　characters　of　Figaro；　Rosina；　and　Count　Almaviva　from　The　Barber　of　Seville。　Opera　was　his　sole；　and　his　secret；　indulgence。
　He　seated　himself；　crossing　and　then　uncrossing　his　legs；　shifting　in　the　impossibly　unfortable　chair。　No　matter　what　he　did；　he　still　seemed　to　take　up　too　much　space。　The　blue　of　his　uniform　seemed　unbearably　gauche　amid　the　elegant　furnishings。　He　glanced　back　up　at　the　watercolors；　allowing　the　bars　of　an　aria　to　go　through　his　head。
　Wellesley　was　an　attractive　woman　in　her　mid…forties；　beautifully　dressed。　〃I　see　you　admire　my　pictures；〃　she　said　to　O'Shaughnessy；　eyeing　him　shrewdly。
　〃Sure；〃　said　O'Shaughnessy。　〃If　you　like　dancing　in　a　wig；　pumps；　and　straitjacket。〃
　Wellesley　turned　to　Pendergast。　〃Your　associate　has　a　rather　queer　sense　of　humor。〃
　〃Indeed。〃
　〃Now　what　can　I　do　for　you　gentlemen？〃
　Pendergast　removed　a　bundle　from　under　his　suit；　loosely　wrapped　in　paper。　〃I　would　like　you　to　examine　this　dress；〃　he　said；　unrolling　the　bundle　across　the　curator's　desk。　She　backed　up　slightly　in　horror　as　the　true　dimensions　of　its　filth　were　exposed　to　view。