preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第39节

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nt；　marked：　The　Blade　That　Cut　Her。
　Pendergast　stood　at　the　center　of　the　hall　and　turned　his　attention　to　the　noisy　audience。　He　found　himself　mildly　surprised。　There　were　many　more　young　people　than　he　had　assumed；　as　well　as　a　greater　cross　section　of　humanity；　from　high　to　low。　Young　bloods　and　fancy　men　strolled　by；　puffing　on　cigars；　laughing　condescendingly　at　the　exhibits。　A　group　of　tough…looking　youths　swaggered　past；　sporting　the　red　flannel　firemen's　shirts；　broadcloth　pantaloons；　and　greased　〃soap…lock〃　hair　that　identified　them　as　Bowery　Boys。　There　were　workhouse　girls；　whores；　urchins；　street　peddlers；　and　barmen。　It　was；　in　short；　the　same　kind　of　crowd　that　thronged　the　streets　outside。　Now　that　the　workday　was　done　for　many；　they　came　to　Shottum's　for　an　evening's　entertainment。　The　two…penny　admission　was　within　reach　of　all。
　Two　doors　at　the　far　end　of　the　hall　led　to　more　exhibits；　one　to　the　bewitching　ladies；　the　other　marked　Gallery　of　Unnatural　Monstrosities。　This　latter　was　narrow　and　dark；　and　it　was　the　exhibit　that　Pendergast　had　e　to　see。
　The　sounds　of　the　crowds　were　muffled　here；　and　there　were　fewer　visitors；　mostly　nervous；　gaping　youngsters。　The　carnival　atmosphere　had　changed　into　something　quieter；　more　eerie。　The　darkness；　the　closeness；　the　stillness；　all　conspired　to　create　the　effect　of　fear。
　At　the　first　turn　of　the　gallery　stood　a　table；　on　which　was　a　large　jar　of　thick　glass；　stoppered　and　sealed；　containing　a　floating　human　baby。　Two　miniature；　perfectly　formed　arms　stuck　out　from　its　forehead。　Pendergast　peered　closer　and　saw　that；　unlike　many　of　the　other　exhibits；　this　one　had　not　been　doctored。　He　passed　on。　There　was　a　small　alcove　containing　a　dog　with　a　cat's　head；　this　one　clearly　fake；　the　sewing　marks　visible　through　the　thinning　hair。　It　stood　next　to　a　giant　clam；　propped　open；　showing　a　skeletonized　foot　inside。　The　label　copy　told　the　gruesome　story　of　the　hapless　pearl　diver。　Around　another　corner；　there　was　a　great　miscellany　of　objects　in　jars　of　formaldehyde：　a　Portuguese　man…of…war；　a　giant　rat　from　Sumatra；　a　hideous　brown　thing　the　size　of　a　flattened　watermelon；　marked　Liver；　from　a　Woolly　Mammoth　Frozen　in　Siberian　Ice。　Next　to　it　was　a　Siamese…twinned　giraffe　fetus。　The　next　turn　revealed　a　shelf　with　a　human　skull　with　a　hideous　bony　growth　on　the　forehead；　labeled　The　Rhinoceros　Man　of　Cincinnati。
　Pendergast　paused；　listening。　Now　the　sounds　of　the　crowd　were　very　faint；　and　he　was　alone。　Beyond；　the　darkened　hall　made　one　last　sharp　turn。　An　elaborately　stylized　arrow　pointed　toward　an　unseen　exhibit　around　the　corner。　A　sign　read：　Visit　Wilson　One…Handed：　For　Those　Who　Dare。
　Pendergast　glided　around　the　corner。　Here；　it　was　almost　silent。　At　the　moment；　there　were　no　other　visitors。　The　hall　terminated　in　a　small　alcove。　In　the　alcove　was　a　single　exhibit：　a　glass　case　containing　a　desiccated　head。　The　shriveled　tongue　still　protruded　from　the　mouth；　looking　like　a　cheroot　clamped　between　the　twisted　lips。　Next　to　it　lay　what　appeared　to　be　a　dried　sausage；　about　a　foot　long；　with　a　rusty　hook　attached　to　one　end　by　leather　straps。　Next　to　that；　the　frayed　end　of　a　hangman's　noose。
　A　label　identified　them：
　　
　THE　HEAD
　OF　THE　NOTORIOUS　MURDERER
　AND　ROBBER
　WILSON　ONE…HANDED
　HUNG　BY　THE　NECK　UNTIL　DEAD
　DAKOTA　TERRITORY
　JULY　4；　1868
　　
　THE　NOOSE
　FROM　WHICH　HE　SWUNG
　　
　THE　FOREARM　STUMP　AND　HOOK　OF　WILSON　ONE…HANDED
　WHICH　BROUGHT　IN　A　BOUNTY
　OF　ONE　THOUSAND　DOLLARS
　　
　Pendergast　examined　the　cramped　room。　It　was　isolated　and　very　dark。　It　was　cut　off　from　view　of　the　other　exhibits　by　a　sharp　turn　of　the　corridor。　It　would　fortably　admit　only　one　person　at　a　time。
　A　cry　for　help　here　would　be　unheard；　out　in　the　main　galleries。
　The　little　alcove　ended　in　a　cul…de…sac。　As　Pendergast　stared　at　it；　pondering；　the　wall　wavered；　then　disappeared；　as　fog　once　again　enshrouded　his　memory　construct　and　the　mental　image　fell　away。　But　it　did　not　matter：　he　had　seen　enough；　threaded　his　way　through　sufficient　passages；　to　understand。
　And　now…at　last…he　knew　how　Leng　had　procured　his　victims。
　
　TWELVE
　　
　PATRICK　O'SHAUGHNESSY　STOOD　on　the　corner　of　Seventy…second　and　Central　Park　West；　staring　at　the　facade　of　the　Dakota　apartment　building。　There　was　a　vast　arched　entrance　to　an　inner　courtyard；　and　beyond　the　entrance　the　building　ran　at　least　a　third　of　the　way　down　the　block。　It　was　there；　in　the　darkness；　that　Pendergast　had　been　attacked。
　In　fact；　it　probably　looked　just　about　like　this　when　Pendergast　was　stabbed…except　for　the　old　man；　of　course；　the　one　Pendergast　had　seen　wearing　a　derby　hat。　Astonishing　that　the　guy　had　almost　managed　to　overpower　the　FBI　agent；　even　factoring　in　the　element　of　surprise。
　O'Shaughnessy　wondered　again　just　what　the　hell　he　was　doing　here。　He　was　off　duty。　He　should　be　in　J。　W。's　hoisting　a　few　with　friends；　or　messing　about　his　apartment；　listening　to　that　new　recording　of　The　Bartered　Bride。　They　weren't　paying　him：　so　why　should　he　care？
　But　he　found；　strangely　enough；　that　he　did　care。
　Custer；　naturally；　had　dismissed　it　as　a　simple　mugging：　〃Friggin'　rube　out…of…towner；　no　surprise　he　got　his　ass　mugged。〃　Well；　O'Shaughnessy　knew　Pendergast　was　no　rube。　The　man　probably　played　up　his　New　Orleans　roots　just　to　keep　people　like　Custer　off　guard。　And　he　didn't　think　Pendergast　had　gotten　mugged；　either。　But　now　it　was　time　to　decide：　just　what　was　he　going　to　do　about　it？
　Slowly；　he　began　to　walk　toward　the　site　of　the　attack。
　Earlier　in　the　day；　he'd　visited　Pendergast　in　the　hospital。　Pendergast　had　hinted　to　him　that　it　would　be　useful…more　than　useful…to　have　the　coroner's　report　on　the　bones　found　at　the　construction　site。　To　get　it；　O'Shaughnessy　realized；　he　would　have　to　go　around　Custer。　Pendergast　also　wanted　more　information　on　the　developer；　Fairhaven…who　Custer　had　made　it　clear　was　off…limits。　It　was　then　O'Shaughnessy　realized　he　had　crossed　some　invisible　line；　from　working　for　Custer　to　working　for　Pendergast。　It　was　a　new；　almost　heady　feeling：　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　he　was　working　with　someone　he　respected。　Someone　who　wasn't　going　to　prejudge　him　on　old　history；　or　treat　him　as　a　disposable；　fifth…generation　Irish　cop。　That　was　the　reason　he　was　here；　at　the　Dakota；　on　his　night　off。　That's　what　a　partner　did　when　the　other　one　got　into　trouble。
　Pendergast；　as　usual；　was　silent　on　the　attack。　But　to　O'Shaughnessy；　it　had　none　of　the　earmarks　of　a　mugging。　He　remembered；　dimly；　his　days　at　the　academy；　all　the　statistics　on　various　types　of　crimes　and　how　they　were　mitted。　Back　then；　he　had　big　ideas　about　where　he　was　going　in　the　force。　That　was　before　he　took　two　hundred　bucks　from　a　prostitute　because　he　felt　sorry　for　her。
　And…he　had　to　admit　to　himself…because　he　needed　the　money。
　O'Shaughnessy　stopped；　coughed；　spat　on　the　sidewalk。
　Back　at　the　academy；　it　had　been　Motive；　Means；　Opportunity。　Take　motive；　for　starters。　Why　kill　Pendergast？
　Put　the　facts　in　order。　One：　the　guy　is　investigating　a　130…year…old　serial　killer。　No　motive　there：　killer's　dead。
　Two：　a　copycat　killer　springs　up。　Pendergast　is　at　the　autopsy　before　there's　even　an　autopsy。　Christ；　thought　O'Shaughnessy；　he　must　have　known　what　was　going　on　even　before　the　doctor　did。　Pendergast　had　already　made　the　connection　between　the　murder　of　the　tourist　and　the　nineteenth…century　killings。
　How？
　Three：　Pendergast　gets　attacked。
　Those　were　the　facts；　as　O'Shaughnessy　saw　them。　So　what　could　he　conclude？
　That　Pendergast　already　knew　something　important。　And　the　copycat　serial　killer　knew　it；　too。　Whatever　it　was；　it　was　important　enough　that　this　killer　took　a　big　risk　in　targeting　him；　on　Seventy…second　Street…not　exactly　deserted；　even　at　nine　o'clock　in　the　evening…and　had　almost　succeeded　in　killing　him；　which　was　the　most　astonishing　thing　of　all。
　O'Shaughnessy　swore。　The　big　mystery　here　was　Pendergast　himself。　He　wished　Pendergast　would　level　with　him；　share　more　information。　The　man　was　keeping　him　in　the　dark。　Why？　Now　that　was　a　question　worth　asking。
　He　swore　again。　Pendergast　was　asking　a　hell　of　a　lot；　but　he　wasn't　giving　anything　in　return。　Why　was　he　wasting　a　fine　fall　evening　tramping　around　the　Dakota；　looking　for　clues　that　weren't　there；　for　a　guy　who　didn't　want　help？
　Cool　it；　O'Shaughnessy　told　himself。　Pendergast　was　the　most　logical；　methodical　guy　he'd　ever　met。　He'd　have　his　reasons。　All　in　good　time。　Meanwhile；　this　was　a　waste。　Time　for　dinner　and　the　latest　issue　of　Opera　News。
　O'Shaughnessy　turned　to　head　home。　And　that's　when　he　saw　the　tall；　shadowy　figure　e　into　view　at　the　corner。
　Instinctively；　O'Shaughnessy　shrank　into　the　nearest　doorway。　He　waited。　The　figure　stood　on　the　corner；　precisely　where　he　himself　had　stood　only　a　few　minutes　before；　glancing　around。　Then　it　started　down　the　street　toward　him；　slowly　and　furtively。
　O'Shaughnessy　stiffened；　receding　deeper　into　the　shadows。　The　figure　crept　down　to　the　angle　of　the　building；　pausing　right　at　the　spot　where　Pendergast　had　been　assaulted。　The　beam　of　a　flashlight　went　on。　He　seemed　to　be　inspecting　t