dk.solesurvivor-第42部分

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ild。　You　were　right　when　you　said　most　of　the　time　things　are　exactly　what　they　appear　to　be。　It's　just　hard　to　accept　that　you　can　lose　your　family　to　anything　as　stupid　as　an　accident；　mechanical　failure；　human　error；　whatever。　You　feel　like　it　just　has　to　be　a　lot　more　significant　than　an　accident　because　。　。　。　well；　because　they　were　so　significant　to　you。　You　know？　You　think　there　have　to　be　villains　somewhere；　that　it　can't　be　just　fate；　because　God　wouldn't　allow　this　to　happen。　But　you　started　me　thinking　when　you　said…the　only　place　there's　always　villains　is　in　the　movies。　If　I'm　going　to　get　over　this；　I'm　going　to　have　to　accept　that　these　things　just　happen；　that　no　one's　to　blame。　Life　is　risk；　right？　God　does　let　innocent　people　die；　lets　children　die。　It's　that　simple。'
　　Joe　was　tense；　waiting　to　hear　what　she　would　say；　whether　she　had　understood　the　urgent　message　that　he　was　striving　to　convey　so　indirectly。
　　After　a　brief　hesitation；　Barbara　said；　'I　hope　you　find　peace；　Joe；　I　really　do。　It　took　a　lot　of　guts　for　you　to　go　out　there；　right　to　the　impact　site。　And　it　takes　guts　to　face　the　fact　that　there's　no　one　to　blame　in　the　end。　As　long　as　you're　stuck　in　the　idea　that　there's　someone　who's　guilty　of　something；　someone　who's　got　to　he　brought　to　justice　。　。　。　well；　then　you're　full　of　vengeance；　and　you're　not　healing。'
　　She　understood。
　　Joe　closed　his　eyes　and　tried　to　gather　his　unravelled　nerves　into　a　tight　bundle　again。
　　He　said；　'It's　just　。　。　。　we　live　in　such　weird　times。　It's　easy　to　believe　in　vast　conspiracies。'
　　'Easier　than　facing　hard　truths。　Your　real　argument　isn't　with　the　pilots　or　the　maintenance　crew。　It　isn't　with　the　air…traffic　controllers　or　with　the　people　who　built　the　airplane。　Your　real　argument's　with　God。'
　　'Which　I　can't　win；'　he　said；　opening　his　eyes。
　　In　front　of　the　newsstand；　the　storyteller　and　the　Dodgers　fan　finished　their　conversation。　The　storyteller　departed。
　　'We're　not　supposed　to　understand　why；'　Barbara　said。　'We　just　have　to　have　faith　that　there's　a　reason。　If　you　can　learn　to　accept　that；　then　you　really　might　find　peace。　You're　a　very　nice　man；　Joe。　You　don't　deserve　to　be　in　such　torment。　I'll　be　praying　for　you。'
　　'Thanks；　Barbara。　Thanks　for　everything。'
　　'Good　luck；　Joe。'
　　He　almost　wished　her　good　luck　as　well；　but　those　two　words　might　be　a　tip…off　to　whoever　was　listening。
　　Instead；　he　said；　'Good…bye。'
　　Still　hummingbird　tense；　he　hung　up。
　　Simply　by　going　to　Colorado　and　knocking　on　Barbara's　door；　he　had　put　her；　her　son；　and　her　son's　entire　family　in　terrible　jeopardy…although　he'd　had　no　way　of　knowing　this　would　be　the　consequence　of　his　visit。　Anything　might　happen　to　her　now　…or　nothing…and　Joe　felt　a　chill　of　blame　coil　around　his　heart。　On　the　other　hand；　by　going　to　Colorado；　he　had　learned　that
　　Nina　was　miraculously　alive。　He　was　willing　to　take　the　moral　responsibility　for　a　hundred　deaths　in　return　for　the　mere　hope　of　seeing　her　again。
　　He　was　aware　of　how　monstrous　it　was　to　regard　the　life　of　his　daughter　as　more　precious　than　the　lives　of　any　hundred　strangers…two　hundred；　a　thousand。　He　didn't　care。　He　would　kill　to　save　her；　if　that　was　the　extreme　to　which　he　was　driven。　Kill　anyone　who　got　in　his　way。　Any　number。
　　Wasn't　it　the　human　dilemma　to　dream　of　being　part　of　the　larger　munity　but；　in　the　face　of　everlasting　death；　always　to　operate　on　personal　and　family　imperatives？　And　he　was；　after　all；　too　human。
　　Joe　left　the　public　telephones　and　followed　the　concourse　toward　the　exit。　As　he　reached　the　head　of　the　escalators；　he　contrived　to　glance　hack。
　　The　Dodgers　fan　followed　at　a　discreet　distance；　well　disguised　by　the　ordinariness　of　his　dress　and　demeanour。　He　wove　himself　into　the　crowd　so　skilfully　that　he　was　no　more　evident　than　any　single　thread　in　a　coat　of　many　colours。
　　Down　the　escalator　and　through　the　lower　floor　of　the　terminal；　Joe　did　not　look　back　again。　Either　the　Dodgers　fan　would　be　there　or　he　would　have　handed　Joe　over　to　another　agent　as　the　storyteller　had　done。
　　Given　their　formidable　resources；　they　would　have　a　substantial　contingent　of　operatives　at　the　airport。　He　could　never　escape　them　here。
　　He　had　exactly　an　hour　until　he　had　to　meet　Demi；　who　he　hoped　would　take　him　to　Rose　Tucker。　If　he　didn't　make　the　rendezvous　in　time；　he　had　no　way　to　re…establish　contact　with　the　woman。
　　His　wristwatch　seemed　to　be　ticking　as　loudly　as　a　grandfather　clock。
　　
　　Tortured　faces　melted　into　the　mutant　forms　of　strange　animals　and　nightmare　landscapes　in　the　Rorschach　stains　on　the　walls　of　the　vast；　drab　concrete　parking　structure。　Engine　noise　from　cars　in　other　aisles；　on　other　levels；　echoed　like　a　Grendel　grumble　through　these　manmade　caverns。
　　His　Honda　was　where　he'd　left　it。
　　Although　most　of　the　vehicles　in　the　garage　were　cars；　three　vans…none　white…an　old　Volkswagen　minibus　with　curtained　windows；　and　a　pickup　truck　with　a　camper　shell　were　parked　near　enough　to　him　to　serve　as　surveillance　posts。　He　didn't　give　any　of　them　a　second　look。
　　He　opened　the　car　trunk　and；　using　his　body　to　block　the　view　of　any　onlooker；　he　quickly　checked　the　spare…tyre　well　for　the　money。　He　had　taken　two　thousand　to　Colorado；　but　he　had　left　the　bulk　of　his　funds　in　the　Honda。　He　was　afraid　the　bank's　manila　envelope　with　the　brass　clasp　would　be　gone；　but　it　was　where　he'd　left　it。
　　He　slipped　the　envelope　under　the　waistband　of　his　jeans。　He　considered　taking　the　small　suitcase　as　well；　but　if　he　transferred　it　to　the　front　seat；　the　people　watching　him　would　not　be　suckered　by　the　little　drama　he　had　planned　for　them。
　　In　the　driver's　seat；　he　took　the　envelope　out　of　his　waistband；　opened　it；　and　tucked　the　packets　of　hundred…dollar　bills　in　the　various　pockets　of　his　corduroy　jacket。　He　folded　the　empty　envelope　and　put　it　in　the　console　box。
　　When　he　backed　out　of　the　parking　space　and　drove　away；　none　of　the　suspect　vehicles　followed　him　immediately。　They　didn't　need　to　be　quick。　Hidden　somewhere　on　the　Honda；　another　transponder　was　sending　the　surveillance　team　a　signal　that　made　constant　visual　contact　unnecessary。
　　He　drove　down　three　levels　to　the　exit。　Departing　vehicles　were　lined　up　at　the　cashiers'　booths。
　　As　he　inched　forward；　he　repeatedly　checked　his　rear…view　mirror。　Just　as　he　reached　the　cashier；　he　saw　the　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　pull　into　line　six　cars　behind　him。
　　
　　Driving　away。　from　the　airport；　he　held　his　speed　slightly　below　the　legal　limit　and　made　no　effort　to　beat　traffic　lights　as　they　turned　yellow　ahead　of　him。　He　didn't　want　to　put　too　much　distance　between　himself　and　his　pursuers。
　　Preferring　surface　streets　rather　than　the　freeways；　he　headed　toward　the　west　side　of　the　city。　Block　by　block　through　a　seedy　mercial　district；　he　searched　for　a　setup　that　would　serve　his　purposes。
　　The　summer　day　was　warm　and　clear；　and　the　sunshine　was　diffused　in　matching　parabolic　rainbow　arcs　across　the　dirty　windshield。　The　soapy　washer　spray　and　the　wipers　cleared　the　glass　somewhat　but　not　sufficiently。
　　Squinting　through　the　glare；　Joe　almost　failed　to　give　the　used…car　dealership　due　consideration。　Gem　Fittich　Auto　Sales。　Sunday　was　a　car…shopping　day；　and　the　lot　was　open；　though　perhaps　not　for　long。　Realizing　that　this　was　precisely　what　he　needed；　he　pulled　to　the　right…hand　curb　and　stopped　half　a　block　past　the　place。
　　He　was　in　front　of　a　transmission…repair　shop。　The　business　was　housed　in　a　badly　maintained　stucco　and　corrugated　steel　building　that　appeared　to　have　been　blown　together　by　a　capricious　tornado　using　parts　of　several　other　structures　that　it　had　previously　torn　asunder。　Fortunately；　the　shop　was　closed；　he　didn't　want　any　good…Samaritan　mechanics　ing　to　his　rescue。
　　He　shut　off　the　engine　and　got　out　of　the　Honda。
　　The　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　was　not　yet　within　sight　on　the　street　behind　him。
　　He　hurried　to　the　front　of　the　car　and　opened　the　hood。
　　The　Honda　was　of　no　use　to　him　any　more。　This　time　they　would　have　concealed　the　transponder　so　well　that　he　would　need　hours　to　find　it。　He　couldn't　drive　it　to　Westwood　and　lead　them　to　Rose；　but　he　couldn't　simply　abandon　it；　either；　because　then　they　would　know　that　he　was　on　to　them。
　　He　needed　to　disable　the　Honda　in　such　a　fashion　that　it　would　appear　to　be　not　sabotage　but　genuine　mechanical　failure。　Eventually　the　people　following　him　would　open　the　hood；　and　if　they　spotted　missing　spark　plugs　or　a　disconnected　distributor　cap；　they　would　know　that　they　had　been　tricked。
　　Then　Barbara　Christman　would　be　in　deeper　trouble　than　ever。　They　would　realize　that　Joe　had　recognized　the　storyteller　on　the　airplane；　that　he　knew　they'd　been　following　him　in　Colorado　…and　that　everything　he'd　said　to　Barbara　on　the　phone　had　been　designed　to　warn　her　and　to　convince　them　that　she　had　not　told　him　anything　important　when；　in　fact；　she　had　told　him　everything。
　　He　carefully　unplugged　the　ignition　control　module　but　left　it　sitting　loosely　in　its　case。　A　casual　inspection　would　not　reveal　that　it　was　disengaged。　Even　if　later　they　searched　until　they　found　the　problem；　they　were　more　likely　to　assume　that　the　ICM　had　worked　loose　on　its　own　rather　than　that　Joe　had　fiddled　with　it。　At　least　they　would　be　left　with　the　element　of　doubt；　affording　Barbara　some　protection。
　　The　pickup　with　the　camper　shell　drove　past　him。
　　He　didn't　look　directly　at　the　truck　but　recognized　it　from　the　corner　of　his　eye。
　　For　a　minute　or　two　he　pretended　to　study　various　things　in　the　engine　partment。　Poking　this。　Wiggling　that。　Scratching　his　head。
　　Leaving　the　hood　up；　he　got　behind　the　wheel　again　and　tried　to　start　the　Honda；　but　of　course　he　had　no　luck。
　　He　got　out　of　the　car　and　went　to　look　at　the　engine　again。
　　Peripherally；　he　saw　that　the　camper　truck　had　turned　off　the　street　at　the　end　of　the　block。　It　had　stopped　in　the　shallow　parking　area　in　front　of　an　empty　industrial　building　that　featured　a　real…estate　agency's　large　For　Sale　sign　on　the　front。
　　He　studied　the　engine　another　minute；　cursing　it　with　energy　an