js&cs.thebridge-第8节

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d　it；　though　he　doubted　if　more　than　three　people　in　the　entire　synod　could　spell　the　word；　much　less　grasp　an　inkling　of　its　actual　intent。
　　Transubstantiation　was　really　quite　the　little　miracle：　the　mystical　transformation　of　flour　and　grape　juice　into　not　just　symbols　of　the　Eucharist；　but　the　actual　flesh　and　blood　itself。　Eternal　Life；　breathed　into　inanimate　glop　by　the　kiss　of　God。　Kinda　like　the　ultimate　parlor　trick。
　　There　was　something　perversely　cannibalistic　about　the　whole　thing；　too；　but　then；　what　did　you　expect　from　the　world's　most　successful；　longest…running　blood　cult？
　　What　the　hell；　Blake　mused；　nodding　and　smiling　as　the　parishioners　filed　past。　Name　of　the　game。　Keeps　'em　in'　back　for　more。
　　Werner　Blake　was　a　dapper；　distinguished　man；　in　his　fifties　and　his　prime。　He　was　head　of　the　Paradise　Industrial　Development　Authority；　pointman　for　Paradise　Emergency　Management　Agency；　general　solid　citizen；　and　all…around　pillar　of　the　munity。　He　was　directly　responsible　for　courting　out…of…state　industry　to　move　into　the　area；　thus　bringing　jobs　and　opportunity　to　thousands　across　the　county。　His　connections　were　many。　He　belonged　to　the　Chamber　of　merce　and　the　Jaycees；　had　a　wife　and　son　and　a　house　in　Wyndham　Hills；　and　kept　a　sophomore　ski　bunny　in　a　condo　at　Cedar　Village。　He　played　tennis　for　fitness；　piloted　light　aircraft　and　skied　for　fun。　He　ate　well；　drank　in　moderation；　and　slept　soundly　at　night。
　　And　every　Sunday…without　fail…he　donned　the　wool　and　grazed　with　the　flock；　holding　his　wife's　hand　and　staring　with　clear…eyed　purpose　into　the　vaulted　chapel　arches。　That　he　looked　at　the　huge　suspended　cross　and　saw　only　sticks　and　brass　and　plaster　mattered　not　at　all。
　　Because　they　saw　something。　They　believed　it；　even　if　they　didn't　see　it。　And　even　if　they　didn't　see　it　or　believe　it；　they　came　anyway。　That　was　the　real　beauty　of　the　game。　They　came　for　the　same　reasons　they　believed。
　　Because　they　were　supposed　to。
　　Nodding　and　smiling；　as　the　parishioners　filed　past　。。。
　　There　was　power　here；　Werner　knew；　in　all　that　blind　faith　and　obedience。　It　could　be　harnessed；　like　any　other　natural　resource。　To　Blake's　way　of　thinking；　that's　what　it　was　there　for。　And　Trinity　Lutheran　was　a　money　congregation；　a　fount　for　the　local　Brahmins；　which　meant　that　seeds　planted　on　Sunday　often　bore　fruit　before　the　end　of　business　Friday　next。
　　That　was　miracle　enough　for　him。
　　Still；　by　the　end　of　services；　Werner　Blake　had　probed　the　outer　limits　of　his　civility。　You　could　only　graze　so　long　with　sheep；　after　all；　before　the　clothing　became　oppressive；　the　smile　a　bit　cramped　and　the　eyes　a　bit　too　hard。
　　So　when　Leonard　leaned　over　from　the　next　pew　back；　Blake　almost　weled　the　diversion。
　　〃Mornin〃；　Harry；〃　he　whispered。　〃What's　up？〃
　　〃Well；　uh；〃　Harold　began　and　then　stalled；　eyes　searching　the　shadows　in　the　far　ers　of　the　chapel。　Up　close　now；　Blake　could　smell　the　tang　of　his　sweat。
　　〃Is　there　a　problem？〃　Blake's　psyche　clicked　calmly　over　to　yellow　alert。
　　〃I　think　so。　Yes。〃　Leonard　exhaled　hard。
　　〃Can　it　wait？〃
　　A　moment　of　silence。
　　〃Okay。〃　Blake　leaned　over；　bussed　his　wife　lightly　on　the　cheek。　〃Excuse　us；〃　he　whispered。　Carol　Blake　was　attractive；　raven…haired　and　tight；　well　maintained；　thirty…nine　and　holding。　She　nodded；　disinterested；　as　Blake　slid　by。　The　space　next　to　her　that　was　for　their　son　was　conspicuously　empty；　Blake　eased　past　it　and　into　the　aisle　with　a　little　grin　that　was　polished　and　carefully　maintained。
　　Then　Blake　was　up　and　moving　against　the　worshipful　tide；　nodding　and　smiling　as　he　met　the　gaze　of　all　those　eyes；　the　many　faces　of　the　flock；　nodding　and　smiling　and　slipping　through　them　with　practiced　grace　and　predatory　ease。
　　He　didn't　look　behind　to　see　if　Leonard　was　following。　Of　course　Leonard　was　following。　What　else　could　Leonards　do？　You　rose　or　fell　by　your　own　merits；　your　own　intrinsic　worth。
　　Blake　knew　what　Leonard　was　made　of。　Food。　But　it　wasn't　as　simple　as　that。　If　there　was　a　problem；　and　Leonard　could　help；　it　would　be　best　to　hear　him　out。
　　In　private。
　　
　　〃Now；〃　Blake　said。　The　chapel　burst　into　muted　song。　It　was　quiet　in　the　pastor's　office；　and　nobody　else　was　there。　〃You　were　saying。〃
　　〃I　got　a　phone　call　this　morning。〃　Leonard　dry…swallowed　as　he　spoke。　〃From　a　man　I；　um；　subcontract。〃
　　Blake　nodded。
　　〃And；　um；　he　told　me　that　an　accident　or　something　happened。〃
　　Blake　waited。
　　〃This　morning。〃　Blake's　silences　were　frightening。　Leonard　picked　up　his　pace。　〃It　was　something　about　a　truck。　These　people　。。。　uh；　their　boys；　they　were　disposing　of　some　substances　。。。　〃
　　〃What　kind　of　substances？〃
　　〃Um　。。。　〃　Beat。　〃Not　very　good　substances。〃　Leonard　let　out　a　short　hack　of　laughter；　as　if　it　were　funny。　〃They　were　disposing　of　some　waste…some　overstock…when　evidently　something　went　wrong。〃
　　〃What　kind　of　waste　。。。　？〃
　　〃Christ；　Werner！　I'm　not　exactly　sure！　It's　all　pretty　bad；　okay？〃　Leonard's　face　flushed　red；　and　for　one　split　second；　it　occurred　to　him　that　he'd　just　taken　his　life　in　his　hands　and　held　it　up　like　a　bull's…eye　on　a　stick。
　　The　Blake　made　a　sympathetic　face；　and　Leonard　resumed。
　　〃You　know　we　handle　a　lot　of　stuff。〃　He　sighed。　Blake　nodded；　encouraging。　〃Most　of　it　is　pretty　benign；　but　none　of　it　is　meant　for　public　consumption。　The　point　is；　these　guys　told　me　that　they've　been　disposing　of　it　in　a　responsible　fashion；　but　then　today　I　get　a　phone　call　。。。　〃
　　Blake　was　absolutely　motionless；　watching。
　　〃　。。。　telling　me　that　these　guys　have　been　dumping　。。。　Christ；　I　don't　know　bow　to　say　this　。。。　〃
　　〃Just　say　it。〃
　　〃Christ！〃　Oily　beads　of　perspiration　welled　on　his　fore　head；　made　armpit…inkblot　configurations　that　met　in　the　middle　of　his　back。　〃They　were　dumping　straight　into　the　Codorus　Creek；　okay？　Straight　into　the　Codorus；　which　runs　straight　into　the　Susquehanna　River；　which　runs　straight　into　God　knows　where！〃
　　〃Calm　down。〃　Blake　said　it　as　much　to　himself　as　to　Leonard。　He　was　running　the　facts　through　his　mind。
　　〃I'm　trying　to　be　calm；　but　frankly；　this　is　scaring　me　out　of　my　wits！〃　Leonard　railed；　hearing　himself　lose　control　and　trying　to　stop　it　and　watching　it　go。　〃One　boy　is　dead　already　。。。　〃
　　〃Ah。〃　The　ante　burgeoned。　Blake　brought　a　finger　up；　touched　it　to　pursed　lips。
　　〃　。。。　and　another　boy　is　all　messed　up；　I　think　he　might　be　poisoned　or　something　。。。　〃
　　〃Okay。〃　Blake　withdrew　his　finger；　made　a　pacifying　gesture　that　he　aimed　at　Leonard。　〃Are　those　the　only　two　involved？〃
　　Leonard　stammered；　his　word　flow　unexpectedly　dammed。　〃I　。。。　I　think　so。　Yes。　Except　for　their　father。　Well；　one　of　their　fathers　。。。　〃
　　〃And　he　is？〃
　　〃His　name's　Pusser。　He　runs　a　salvage　yard　outside　of　Hellam　…〃
　　〃What　I　need；〃　Blake　interrupted；　〃is　precise　information。　Names　and　addresses。　Do　you　know　where　the　accident　happened？〃
　　〃Have　you　ever　heard　of　a　place　called　Black　Bridge？〃
　　〃No。　But　I'm　sure　somebody　has。　What　I　need　from　you〃…and　on　this　he　was　emphatic；　leaning　into　Leonard　as　if　the　fate　of　the　entire　universe　were　at　stake…〃is　specifics。　Every　single　thing　you　know。　In　the　order　you　know　it。〃
　　He　took　a　beat；　looked　into　Leonard's　eyes；　made　sure　that　he'd　connected。　He　had。　〃We　can　manage　this　situation；〃　he　said。　〃There's　nothing　that　we　can't　manage。　As　long　as　we　act　now；　and　nothing　else　goes　wrong；　we're　fine。　Remember　that。〃
　　Leonard　looked　honestly　relieved。　For　the　first　time；　he　met　Blake's　gaze　pletely。　Blake　saw　gratitude　there。
　　But　most　important；　he　saw　faith。
　　〃You　did　the　right　thing　in　ing　to　me；〃　Blake　said。　〃Thanks。〃
　　〃Hey；　no　problem。〃　Leonard　nearly　blushed。
　　〃Just　get　it　all　down　on　paper　for　me。〃
　　〃Right　now？〃
　　〃No　time　like　the　present。〃
　　Leonard　nodded　and　opened　a　drawer　on　the　pastor's　desk；　found　a　notepad。　As　he　scribbled；　Blake　turned　away；　hard…weighing　the　possibilities。　The　worst　thing　that　could　possibly　happen　was　a　whiff　of　this　hitting　the　public　air。
　　On　the　other　hand；　there　was　nothing　that　couldn't　be　handled　under　cover　of　darkness。
　　Nothing　at　all。
　　〃And；　Harry？〃　he　said；　almost　as　an　afterthought。　〃Not　a　word　of　this　to　anybody；　right？〃
　　〃Of　course　not！　Christ！〃　Leonard　told　him。
　　Of　course　not。
　　Another　article　of　faith　。。。
　　
　　
　　　Eight
　　　
　　The　first　shots　came　high　and　sharp；　like　blown…up　paper　bags　detonating　in　the　distance。　The　sound　was　not　lost　on　the　ever…vigilant　ears　of　Bernard　S。　Kleigel：　the　Conscience　of　a　Nation。　It　filtered　up　out　of　the　woods　at　him　as　he　burned　the　goddam　backyard　leaves。　And　boy…oh…boy　did　it　tick　him　off。
　　〃God　dammit；　Billy！　Stand　still！〃　he　hissed；　straining　to　hear　more。　At　the　ready　pile；　his　five…year…old　froze：　a　miniature　Michelin　rubber　boy；　body　dwarfed　in　his　overstuffed　Osh…Kosh　jumper。　Billy　was　no　fool。　One　whiff　of　Dad's　voice　and　it　was　lay…low　time　in　the　leaf　pile。
　　Two　more　shots　rang　out。　Small…calibre；　twenty…twos。　Bernie　twisted　the　rake　handle　so　hard　it　bowed；　veins　in　his　temples　throbbing。　One　word　sprang…neon；　glowing…into　his　mind。
　　Kid