pdouglas.thecodex-第49部分

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　Tom　gave　the　order；　and　Borabay　then　went　through　the　crowd；　clapping　his　hands；　slapping　the　shoulders　of　various　men；　and　in　five　minutes　had　ten　warriors　lined　up　with　them；　decked　out　in　feathers；　paint；　and　necklaces；　each　with　a　bow　and　quiver。
　〃Now　you　give　speech。〃
　〃What　should　I　say？〃
　〃Talk　big。　How　you　going　to　rescue　Father；　kill　bad　mans。　Don't　worry；　whatever　you　say；　I　fix　up　good。〃
　〃Don't　forget　to　promise　a　chicken　in　every　pot；〃　said　Philip。
　Tom　stepped　forward　and　looked　around　at　all　the　faces。　The　hubbub　of　talk　died　quickly。　Now　they　were　looking　at　him　with　hope。　A　shiver　of　fear　ran　through　him。　He　had　no　idea　what　he　was　doing。
　〃Er；　ladies　and　gentlemen？〃
　Borabay　flashed　him　a　disapproving　look　and　then；　in　a　martial　voice；　cried　out　something　that　sounded　a　lot　more　effective　than　the　feeble　opening　he　had　managed。　There　was　a　rustling　as　everyone　came　to　attention。　Tom　had　a　sudden　feeling　of　déjà　vu…he　remembered　Don　Alfonso's　speech　to　his　people　when　they　left　Pito　Solo。　He　had　to　give　a　speech　like　that；　even　if　it　was　all　lies　and　empty　promises。
　He　took　a　deep　breath。　〃My　friends！　We　have　e　to　the　Tara　lands　from　a　distant　place　called　America！〃
　At　the　word　America；　even　before　Borabay　could　translate；　there　was　a　rustle　of　excitement。
　〃We　have　e　many　thousands　of　miles；　by　plane；　by　dugout；　and　on　foot。　For　forty　days　and　nights　we　have　traveled。〃
　Borabay　declaimed　this。　Tom　could　see　he　now　had　their　undivided　attention。
　〃A　great　evil　has　befallen　the　Tara　people。　A　barbarian　named　Hauser　has　e　from　the　other　side　of　the　world　with　mercenary　soldiers　to　kill　the　Tara　people　and　rob　their　tombs。　They　have　kidnapped　your　head　priest　and　killed　your　warriors。　As　I　speak；　they　are　in　the　White　City；　defiling　it　with　their　presence。〃
　Borabay　translated；　and　there　was　a　loud　murmur　of　agreement。
　〃We　are　here；　the　four　sons　of　Maxwell　Broadbent；　to　rid　the　Tara　people　of　this　man。　We　have　e　to　save　our　own　father；　Maxwell　Broadbent；　from　the　darkness　of　his　tomb。〃
　He　paused　for　Borabay's　translation。　Five　hundred　faces；　lit　by　the　firelight；　gazed　at　him　with　rapt　attention。
　〃My　brother　here；　Borabay；　will　lead　us　up　to　the　mountains；　where　we　will　observe　the　bad　men　and　make　plans　for　an　attack。　Tomorrow；　we　will　fight。〃
　At　this　there　was　an　eruption　of　an　odd　sound　like　rapid　grunting　or　laughing…the　Tara　equivalent；　it　seemed；　of　cheering　and　clapping。　Tom　could　feel　his　monkey；　Hairy　Bugger；　scrunching　himself　down　into　the　bottom　of　his　pocket；　trying　to　hide。
　Borabay　then　spoke　to　Tom；　sotto　voce。　〃Ask　them　to　pray　and　make　offering。〃
　Tom　cleared　his　throat。　〃The　Tara　people；　all　of　you；　have　a　very　important　role　to　play　in　the　ing　struggle。　I　ask　you　to　pray　for　us。　I　ask　you　to　make　offerings　for　us。　I　ask　you　to　do　this　every　day　until　we　return　victorious。〃
　Borabay's　voice　rang　out　with　these　declarations；　and　it　had　an　electric　effect。　People　surged　forward；　murmuring　in　excitement。　Tom　felt　a　kind　of　hopeless　absurdity　wash　over　him；　these　people　believed　in　him　far　more　than　he　believed　in　himself。
　A　cracked　voice　rang　out；　and　the　people　instantly　fell　back；　leaving　the　old　woman；　Cah's　wife；　standing　alone；　leaning　on　her　stick。　She　looked　up　and　fixed　her　eye　on　Tom。　There　was　a　long　silence；　and　then　she　raised　her　stick；　drew　it　back；　and　gave　him　a　tremendous　blow　across　the　thighs。　Tom　tried　not　to　flinch　or　grimace。
　Then　the　old　woman　cried　out　something　in　a　wizened　voice。
　〃What'd　she　say？〃
　Borabay　turned。　〃I　do　not　know　how　to　translate。　She　speak　a　strong　Tara　expression。　It　mean　something　like：　You　kill　or　you　die。〃
　
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　Professor　Julian　Clyve　propped　up　his　feet　and　creaked　back　in　his　old　chair　with　his　hands　behind　his　head。　It　was　a　blustery　May　day；　the　wind　twisting　and　torturing　the　leaves　of　the　sycamore　tree　outside　his　window。　Sally　had　been　gone　now　for　over　a　month。　There　had　been　no　word。　He　hadn't　expected　to　hear　anything；　but　Clyve　still　found　the　long　silence　perturbing。　When　Sally　left；　they　both　expected　the　Codex　would　usher　in　one　more　academic　triumph　in　Professor　Clyve's　life。　But　after　thinking　about　it　for　a　week　or　two；　Clyve　had　changed　his　mind。　Here　he　was　a　Rhodes　scholar；　a　full　professorship　at　Yale；　with　a　string　of　prizes；　academic　honors；　and　publications　that　most　professors　didn't　accumulate　in　a　lifetime。　The　fact　was；　he　hardly　needed　another　academic　honor。　What　he　needed…let's　face　it…was　money。　The　values　of　American　society　were　all　wrong。　The　real　prize…financial　wealth…did　not　e　to　those　who　deserved　it　most；　to　the　intellectual　movers　and　shakers：　the　brain　trust　that　controlled；　directed；　and　disciplined　the　great　stupid　lumbering　beast　that　was　the　vulgus　mobile。　Who　did　make　the　money？　Sports　figures；　rock　stars；　actors；　and　CEOs。　Here　he　was；　at　the　top　of　his　profession；　earning　less　than　the　average　plumber。　It　was　galling。　It　was　unfair。
　Wherever　he　went；　people　sought　him　out；　crushed　his　hand；　praised　him；　admired　him。　All　the　wealthy　people　of　New　Haven　wanted　to　know　him；　to　have　him　to　dinner；　to　collect　him　and　show　him　off　as　evidence　of　their　good　taste；　as　if　he　were　an　Old　Master　painting　or　piece　of　antique　silver。　Not　only　was　it　disgusting；　but　it　was　humiliating　and　expensive。　Almost　everyone　he　knew　had　more　money　than　he　did。　No　matter　what　honors　he　gained；　no　matter　what　prizes　he　won　or　monographs　he　published；　he　still　wasn't　able　to　pick　up　the　tab　at　a　reasonably　good　restaurant　in　New　Haven。　Instead　they　picked　up　the　tab。　They　had　him　to　their　houses。　They　invited　him　to　the　black…tie　charity　dinners　and　paid　for　the　table；　brushing　off　his　insincere　offers　of　reimbursement。　And　when　it　was　all　over　he　had　to　slink　back　to　his　two…bedroom；　revoltingly　bourgeois　split…level　in　the　academic　ghetto；　while　they　went　home　to　their　mansions　in　the　Heights。
　Now；　finally；　he　had　the　means　to　do　something　about　it。　He　glanced　at　the　calendar。　It　was　the　thirty…first　of　May。　Tomorrow　the　first　installment　of　the　two　million　from　the　giant　Swiss　drug　pany；　Hartz；　was　to　arrive。　The　coded　e…mail　confirmation　should　be　ing　from　the　Cayman　Islands　soon。　He　would　have　to　spend　the　money　outside　the　United　States；　of　course。　A　snug　villa　on　the　Costiera　Amalfitana　would　be　a　nice　place　to　park　it；　a　million　for　the　villa　and　the　second　million　for　expenses。　Ravello　was　supposed　to　be　nice。　He　and　Sally　could　take　their　honeymoon　there。
　He　thought　back　to　his　meeting　with　the　CEO　and　the　Hartz　board；　so　very　serious；　so　very　Swiss。　They　were　skeptical；　of　course；　but　when　they　saw　the　page　Julian　had　already　translated；　their　old　gray　mouths　were　almost　watering。　The　Codex　would　bring　them　many　billions。　Most　drug　panies　had　research　departments　that　evaluated　indigenous　medicines…but　here　was　the　ultimate　medical　cookbook；　all　nicely　packaged；　and　Julian　was　about　the　only　person　in　the　world；　apart　from　Sally；　who　could　translate　it　accurately。　Hartz　would　have　to　strike　a　deal　with　the　Broadbents　over　it；　but　as　the　largest　pharmaceutical　pany　in　the　world　it　was　in　the　best　position　to　pay。　And　without　his　translation　skills；　what　use　would　the　Codex　be　to　the　Broadbents　anyway？　Everything　would　be　done　correctly：　The　pany　had　of　course　insisted　on　it。　The　Swiss　were　like　that。
　He　wondered　how　Sally　would　react　when　she　learned　that　the　Codex　was　going　to　disappear　into　the　maw　of　some　giant　multinational　corporation。　Knowing　her；　she　would　not　take　it　well。　But　once　they　started　enjoying　the　two　million　dollars　Hartz　had　agreed　to　pay　him　as　a　finder's　fee…not　to　mention　the　generous　remuneration　he　expected　to　receive　for　doing　the　translation…she'd　get　over　it。　And　he　would　show　her　that　this　was　the　right　thing　to　do；　that　Hartz　was　in　the　best　position　to　develop　these　new　drugs　and　bring　them　to　market。　It　was　the　right　thing　to　do。　It　took　money　to　develop　new　drugs。　Nobody　was　going　to　do　it　for　free。　Profit　made　the　world　go　round。
　As　for　himself；　poverty　had　been　fine　for　a　few　years　while　he　was　young　and　idealistic；　but　it　would　bee　unendurable　over　thirty。　And　Professor　Julian　Clyve　was　fast　approaching　thirty。
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　After　ten　hours　of　hiking　into　the　mountains；　Tom　and　his　brothers　topped　a　bare；　windswept　ridge。　A　stupendous　view　of　mountains　greeted　their　eyes；　a　violent　sea　of　peaks　and　valleys；　layered　toward　the　horizon　in　deepening　shades　of　purple。
　Borabay　pointed。　〃Sukia　Tara；　the　White　City；〃　he　said。
　Tom　squinted　in　the　bright　afternoon　sun。　About　five　miles　away；　across　a　chasm；　rose　two　pinnacles　of　white　rock。　Nestled　between　them　was　a　flat；　isolated　saddle　of　land；　cut　off　on　both　sides　by　chasms　and　surrounded　by　jagged　peaks。　It　was　a　lone　patch　of　green；　a　lush　piece　of　cloudforest　that　looked　as　if　it　had　broken　off　from　somewhere　else　to　lodge　between　the　two　fangs　of　white　rock；　teetering　on　the　brink　of　a　precipice。　Tom　had　imagined　it　would　be　a　ruin　with　white　towers　and　walls。　Instead；　he　could　see　nothing　but　a　thick；　lumpy　carpet　of　trees。
　Vernon　raised　his　binoculars；　examined　the　White　City；　and　passed　them　to　Tom。
　The　green　promontory　leapt　into　magnification。　Tom　scanned　it；　slowly。　The　plateau　was　heavily　covered　in　trees　and　what　appeared　to　be　impenetrable　mats　of　vines　and　creepers。　Whatever　ruined　city　lay　in　that　strange　hanging　valley　was　well　covered　by　jungle。　But　as　Tom　scrutinized　it；　here　and　there；　rising　from　the　verdure；　he　could　make　out　whitish　outcrops　that　began　to　take　on　faint　patterns：　a　corner；　a　broken　stretch　of　wall；　a　dark　square　that　looked　like　a　window。　And　as　he　looked　further　at　what　he　thought　was　a　steep　hill；　he　realized　it　was　a　ruined　pyramid；　heavily　overgrown。　One　side　of　it　had　been　gashed　open；　a　white　wound　in　the　living　green。
　The　mesa　the　city　had　been　constructed　on　was；　truly；　an　island　in　the　sky。　It　hung　between　the　two　peaks；　separated　from　the　rest　of　the　Sierra　Azul　by　sheer　cliffs。　It　looked　cut　off　until　he　saw　a　thread　of　yellow　curving　across　one　of　the　chasms…a　crude　suspension　bridge。　As　he　examined　it　further　he　saw　that　the　bridge　was　well　guarded　by　soldiers　who　were　using　a　ruined　stone　fortress　evidentl