pdouglas.thecodex-第38部分

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　〃Well；　well；　here　we　are。　A　little　family　reunion　in　the　Honduran　jungle。〃　Philip　looked　around；　his　eyes　sparkling；　and　then　he　said：　〃G。〃
　There　was　a　silence　and　then　Vernon　said：　〃H。〃
　Tom　said　〃O。〃
　Philip　said　〃S。〃
　There　was　a　long　silence　and　then　Vernon　said；　〃Goddamn　it。　T。〃
　〃Vernon　has　to　wash　the　dishes！〃　crowed　Philip。
　Tom　turned　to　Sally　to　explain。　〃It's　a　game　we　used　to　play；〃　he　said　with　a　sheepish　smile。
　〃I　guess　you　three　really　are　brothers。〃
　〃Sort　of；〃　said　Vernon。　〃Even　if　Philip　is　an　ass。〃
　Philip　let　out　a　guffaw。　〃Poor　Vernon。　You　always　did　end　up　in　the　kitchen；　didn't　you？〃
　〃Glad　to　see　you　feeling　better；〃　said　Tom。
　Philip　turned　his　hollow　face　to　him。　〃I　am。〃
　〃You　feel　like　telling　us　what　happened？〃
　Philip's　face　grew　serious；　losing　all　its　archness。　〃It's　a　heart…of…darkness　story；　plete　with　a　Mistah　Kurtz。　Are　you　sure　you　want　to　hear　it？〃
　〃Yes；〃　said　Tom。　〃We　want　to　hear　it。〃
　
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　Philip　carefully　filled　his　pipe　from　a　tin　of　Dunhill　Early　Morning　and　lit　it；　his　movements　slow　and　deliberate。　〃The　one　thing　they　didn't　take　from　me　was　my　tobacco　and　pipe；　thank　God。〃　He　puffed　slowly；　his　eyes　half　closed；　gathering　his　thoughts。
　Tom　took　the　opportunity　to　examine　Philip's　face。　Now　that　it　had　been　cleaned　up　he　could　finally　recognize　his　brother's　long；　aristocratic　features。　The　beard　gave　him　a　raffish　appearance　that　made　him　look　curiously　like　their　father。　But　the　face　was　different：　Something　had　happened　to　his　brother；　something　so　awful　it　had　altered　his　basic　features。
　His　pipe　lit；　Philip　opened　his　eyes　and　began　to　speak。
　〃After　I　left　you　two；　I　flew　back　to　New　York　and　looked　up　Father's　old　partner；　Marcus　Aurelius　Hauser。　I　figured　that　he　would　know　better　than　anyone　where　Father　might　have　gone。　He　was　a　private　eye；　of　all　things。　I　found　him　a　rather　plump；　perfumed　fellow。　With　two　quick　phone　calls　he　was　able　to　learn　that　Father　had　gone　to　Honduras；　so　I　figured　he　was　petent　and　hired　him。　We　flew　to　Honduras；　he　organized　an　expedition　and　hired　twelve　soldiers　and　four　boats。　He　financed　it　all　by　forcing　me　to　sell　the　beautiful　little　Paul　Klee　watercolor　that　Father　gave　me…〃
　〃Oh；　Philip；〃　Vernon　said。　〃How　could　you？〃
　Philip　closed　his　eyes　wearily。　Vernon　fell　silent。　Then　Philip　continued：　〃So　we　all　flew　down　to　Brus　and　piled　into　dugout　canoes　for　a　jolly　punt　upriver。　We　picked　up　a　guide　in　some　backwater　hamlet　and　proceeded　across　the　Meambar　Swamp。　And　then　Hauser　staged　a　coup。　The　pomaded　prick　had　been　planning　it　all　along…he's　one　of　those　wicked　micromanaging　Nazi　types。　They　chained　me　up　like　a　dog。　Hauser　fed　our　guide　to　the　piranhas　and　then　set　up　that　ambush　to　kill　you。〃
　At　this　his　voice　faltered；　and　he　sucked　on　his　pipe　a　few　times；　his　bony　hand　trembling。　The　story　was　told　with　a　certain　humorous　bravado　that　Tom　knew　well　in　his　brother。
　〃After　clapping　me　in　chains；　Hauser　left　five　G。I。　Josés　behind　on　the　Laguna　Negra　to　ambush　you　all。　He　took　me　and　the　other　soldiers　up　the　Macaturi　as　far　as　the　Falls。　I'll　never　forget　when　the　soldiers　returned。　There　were　only　three　of　them；　and　one　had　a　three…foot　arrow　sticking　through　his　thigh。　I　couldn't　hear　all　of　what　they　said。　Hauser　was　furious　and　took　the　man　out；　shot　him　point…blank　in　the　head。　I　knew　they　had　killed　two　people；　and　I　was　sure　one　or　both　of　you　were　dead。　I　have　to　tell　you；　brothers　of　mine；　that　when　you　arrived；　I　thought　I　had　died　and　gone　to　hell…and　you　were　the　reception　mittee。〃　He　gave　a　dry　little　laugh。　〃We　left　the　boats　at　the　Falls　and　followed　Father's　trail　on　foot。　Hauser　could　track　a　mouse　in　the　jungle　if　he　had　a　mind　to。　He　kept　me　around　because　he　had　the　idea　of　using　me　as　a　bargaining　chip　with　you。　He　ran　into　a　group　of　mountain　Indians；　killed　several；　and　chased　the　rest　back　to　the　village。　He　then　attacked　the　village　and　managed　to　capture　the　chief。　I　didn't　see　any　of　this；　I　was　kept　behind　under　ball　and　chain；　but　I　saw　the　results。〃
　He　shuddered。　〃Once　he　had　the　chief　as　a　hostage；　we　made　our　way　up　into　the　mountains　toward　the　White　City。〃
　〃Hauser　knows　it's　the　White　City？〃
　〃He　learned　it　from　an　Indian　prisoner。　But　he　doesn't　know　where　the　tomb　is　in　the　White　City。　Apparently　only　the　chief　and　a　few　elders　know　the　exact　location　of　father's　tomb。〃
　〃How　did　you　escape？〃　Tom　asked。
　Philip　closed　his　eyes。　〃Kidnapping　the　chief　stirred　up　the　Indians　to　war。　They　attacked　Hauser　while　he　was　en　route　to　the　White　City。　Even　with　their　heavy　weapons　Hauser　and　his　men　had　their　hands　full。　He'd　taken　the　chains　off　me　to　use　them　on　the　chief。　At　the　height　of　the　attack　I　managed　to　get　away。　I　spent　the　last　ten　days　walking…crawling；　actually…back　here；　surviving　on　insects　and　lizards。　Three　days　ago　I　reached　this　river。　There　was　no　way　to　cross。　I　was　starving；　and　I　couldn't　walk　anymore。　So　I　sat　down　under　a　tree　to　wait　for　the　end。〃
　〃You　were　sitting　under　that　tree　for　three　days？〃
　〃Three；　four　days…God　only　knows。　They　all　ran　together。〃
　〃My　God；　Philip；　how　awful。〃
　〃On　the　contrary。　It　was　a　refreshing　feeling。　Because　I　didn't　care　anymore。　About　anything。　I'd　never　felt　so　free　in　my　life　as　while　I　was　sitting　under　that　tree。　I　believe　I　might　have　actually　been　happy　for　a　moment　or　two。〃
　The　fire　had　died　down。　Tom　added　a　few　more　sticks　and　stirred　it　back　to　life。
　〃Did　you　see　the　White　City？〃　Vernon　asked。
　〃I　escaped　before　they　got　there。〃
　〃How　far　is　it　from　here　to　the　Sierra　Azul？〃
　〃Ten　miles；　maybe；　to　the　foothills；　and　another　ten　or　twelve　to　the　city。〃
　There　was　a　silence。　The　fire　crackled；　hissed。　A　bird　sang　a　mournful　song　in　a　distant　tree。　Philip　closed　his　eyes　and　murmured；　his　voice　heavy　with　sarcasm；　〃Dear　old　Father；　what　a　fine　legacy　you　left　to　your　adoring　children。〃
　
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　The　temple　lay　buried　in　lianas；　the　front　colonnade　supported　by　square　pillars　of　limestone　streaked　with　green　moss；　holding　up　part　of　a　stone　roof。　Hauser　stood　outside；　looking　at　the　curious　hieroglyphics　carved　into　the　pillars；　the　strange　faces；　animals；　dots；　and　lines。　It　reminded　him　of　the　Codex。
　〃Stay　outside；〃　he　said　to　his　men　and　slashed　a　hole　in　the　screen　of　vegetation。　It　was　gloomy。　He　shined　a　flashlight　around。　There　were　no　snakes　or　jaguars；　just　a　mess　of　spiders　in　one　corner　and　some　mice　scurrying　away。　It　was　dry　and　sheltered…a　good　place　to　establish　his　headquarters。
　He　strolled　deeper　into　the　temple。　At　the　back　stood　another　row　of　square　stone　pillars　framing　a　ruined　doorway　leading　out　to　a　gloomy　courtyard。　He　stepped　through。　A　few　statues　lay　tumbled　about；　deeply　eroded　by　time；　wet　in　the　rain。　Great　roots　of　trees　snaked　over　the　stones　like　fat　anacondas；　heaving　apart　walls　and　roofs；　until　the　trees　themselves　became　an　integral　part　of　what　was　holding　the　structure　together。　On　the　far　side　of　the　courtyard　a　second　doorway　led　into　a　small　chamber　with　a　carved　stone　man　lying　on　his　back；　holding　a　bowl。
　Hauser　came　back　out　to　his　waiting　soldiers。　Two　of　them　held　between　them　the　captured　chief；　a　bowed　old　man；　almost　naked　except　for　a　loincloth　and　a　piece　of　leather　tied　over　his　shoulder　and　belted　around　his　waist。　His　body　was　one　mass　of　wrinkles。　He　was　just　about　the　oldest…looking　man　Hauser　had　ever　seen…and　yet　he　knew　he　probably　wasn't　older　than　sixty。　The　jungle　ages　you　fast。
　Hauser　gestured　to　the　teniente。　〃We'll　stay　here。　Have　the　soldiers　clean　this　room　out　for　my　cot　and　table。〃　He　nodded　to　the　old　man。　〃Chain　him　in　the　small　room　across　the　courtyard　and　put　a　guard　on　him。〃
　The　soldiers　hustled　the　old　Indian　chief　into　the　temple。　Hauser　settled　himself　down　on　a　block　of　stone　and　drew　a　fresh　cigar　tube　from　his　shirt　pocket；　unscrewed　the　cap；　and　slid　the　cigar　out。　It　was　still　covered　in　a　cedarwood　wrapper。　He　smelled　the　wrapper；　crushed　it　in　his　hand；　smelled　it　again；　inhaling　the　exquisite　fragrance；　and　then　began　the　ritual　that　he　loved　so　well　of　lighting　the　cigar。
　As　he　smoked；　he　looked　at　the　ruins　of　a　pyramid　directly　in　front　of　him。　It　was　nothing　like　Chichén　Itzá　or　Copán；　but　as　Mayan　pyramids　went　it　was　impressive　enough。　Important　burials　were　often　found　in　pyramids。　Hauser　was　convinced　old　Max　had　reburied　himself　in　a　tomb　he　once　robbed。　If　so；　it　had　to　be　an　important　tomb；　to　hold　all　of　Max's　stuff。
　The　stairway　going　up　the　pyramid　had　been　heaved　apart　by　tree　roots；　which　had　levered　out　many　blocks　and　sent　them　tumbling　to　the　bottom。　At　the　top　was　the　small　room　held　up　by　four　square　pillars；　with　four　doors　and　a　shallow　stone　altar　where　the　Maya　sacrificed　their　victims。　Hauser　inhaled。　That　would　have　been　something　to　see；　the　priest　splitting　the　victim　at　the　breastbone；　wrenching　apart　the　rib　cage；　cutting　out　the　beating　heart　and　holding　it　up　with　a　shriek　of　triumph　while　the　body　was　tumbled　down　the　stairs；　to　be　hacked　up　by　waiting　nobles　and　made　into　corn　stew。
　What　barbarians。
　Hauser　smoked　with　pleasure。　The　White　City　was　fairly　impressive　even　covered　as　it　was　by　vegetation。　Max　had　hardly　scratched　the　surface。　There　was　a　great　deal　more　worth　taking　here。　Even　a　simple　block　with；　say；　a　jaguar　head　carved　on　it　could　fetch　a　hundred　grand。　He'd　have　to　be　careful　to　keep　the　location　secret。
　In　its　heyday　the　White　City　would　have　been　amazing…Hauser　could　almost　see　it　in　his　mind's　eye：　the　temples　new　and　gleaming　white；　the　ball　games　（where　the　losers　lost　their　heads）；　the　roaring　crowds　of　spectators；　the　processions　of　the　priests　decked　out　in　gold；　feathers；　and　jade。　And　what　had　happened？　Now　their　descendants　lived　in　bark　huts　and　their　head　priest　was　a　man　in　rags。　Funny　how　things　change。
　He　drew　in　another　lungful　of　smoke。　It　was　true　that　not　all　had　gone　according　to　plan。　No　matter。　Long　experience　had　taught　him　that　any　op　was　an　exercise　in　improvisation。　Those　who　thought　they　could　plan　an　op　and　execute　it　flawlessly　always　died　following　the　book。　That　was　his　great　strength：　improvisation。　Human　beings　were　inherently　unpredictable。