jefflong.yearzero-第33部分

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　At　first　glance；　there　was　nothing　but　abundance。　Food　convoys　trundled　through　like　chains　of　elephants；　disbursing　hundred…pound　sacks　of　rice　and　beans；　cases　of　protein　bars；　baby　food　formula；　and　more。　Water　trucks　circulated。　It　was　almost　as　if　the　government　were　fattening　them。　Or　keeping　them　pinned　in　place。
　Nathan　Lee　trekked　deeper　toward　the　center。　He　wished　for　one　of　the　bicycles　hissing　past；　but　resisted　the　urge　to　steal　one。　He　reached　DuPont　Circle　next　morning；　after　a　night　spent　in　a　dry　fountain　with　other　tramps。　He　told　himself　not　to　be　excited。　But　the　great　spoke　of　streets　led　directly　to　the　row　of　Victorian　townhouses　where　Ochs　once　lived。
　The　professor　was　long　gone。　Squatters　had　taken　over　the　entire　neighborhood。　Nathan　Lee　walked　back　and　forth　a　few　times；　getting　a　feel　for　the　place。　Laundry　hung　like　festive　banners　from　the　lines　rigged　between　windows　and　trees。　A　mountain　of　garbage　clogged　the　alley。　Women　chattered　and　breastfed　their　babies。　Children　swung　in　a　tire　hanging　from　a　tree　limb。　Girls　skipped　rope。
　A　young　woman　sat　on　the　front　steps　bouncing　her　baby　on　her　knees。　Her　eyes　were　filled　with　love。　He　crossed　the　street　and　went　to　her。　〃I'm　looking　for　my　little　girl；〃　he　said。　He　opened　his　storybook　to　the　picture　of　Grace。　By　now；　the　photo　was　nearly　featureless。　What　the　mountain　and　jails　had　not　ruined；　the　sea　had。　〃She　and　her　mother　used　to　live　here。〃
　〃Not　no　more。〃
　He　held　out　the　book　with　the　ruined　photo。　〃Her　uncle's　name　was　Ochs。　Maybe　they　left　some　clue　where　they　went。〃
　The　girl's　eyes　flickered　at　his　book。　〃Never　seen　her。　Can't　see　that　anyway。〃
　〃It　spoiled；〃　he　said。
　〃Well；　she　ain't　here。〃
　〃I've　e　a　long　way；〃　he　said。　〃Before　it's　too　late。〃
　She　tucked　her　baby　close　at　his　〃too　late。〃　Nathan　Lee　regretted　his　words。　He　closed　the　book。　〃I　need　to　go　in　that　townhouse　there；〃　he　said。
　〃I'd　leave；〃　she　said。　〃The　men　will　whip　you；　you　still　loitering　tonight。〃
　〃Well；　I　can't　leave。〃
　〃My；　that's　brave。〃
　〃No；〃　he　said。　〃I　have　nowhere　else　to　begin。〃
　〃Let　him　up；〃　a　woman　said　from　the　upper　window。　She　had　tight　cropped　hair　and　a　straight　neck。
　〃But　Mama；　Gerald　says　these　people。。。。〃
　〃The　man　wants　to　find　his　baby；〃　said　the　woman。
　Nathan　Lee　went　up　the　stairs。　The　door　opened。　The　woman　was　regal　and　lean；　young　to　be　a　grandmother。
　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said　to　the　woman。　He　held　out　his　hand；　but　she　didn't　take　it。　It　wasn't　rude。　It　was　the　times。
　Ochs　would　have　been　pleased。　The　wood　floors　were　scratched　a　bit；　otherwise　the　place　was　as　spotless　as　he'd　kept　it。　It　was　changed；　naturally。　The　20；000　killims　were　gone。　Green　plants　stood　where　his　porcelain　vases　and　pre…Columbian　statues　once　resided。　One　wall　held　a　small；　very　old　photo　of　a　black　family。　Nathan　Lee　was　drawn　to　it。
　〃My　people。　They　were　slaves。〃　The　woman　said　it　primly。　Nathan　Lee　understood。　She　had　no　apologies　for　being　here。　〃The　house　was　empty　when　we　arrived。　I　placed　any　keepsakes　in　a　box；　out　of　respect。〃　She　led　the　way　to　a　closet。
　He　carried　the　box　into　the　kitchen。　The　stainless　steel　refrigerator　and　oven　sparkled。　A　propane　hot　plate　sat　on　the　polished　granite　countertop。　Little　sprouts　of　dill　and　basil　were　growing　in　egg　cartons　on　the　window　sill。　It　smelled　of　bacon　and　eggs　and　coffee。　He　opened　the　box。
　〃He　was　a　pornographer；〃　she　said。　〃I　am　old…fashioned。　His　collection　of　pictures　and　magazines；　those　things　I　destroyed。〃
　〃Of　course；〃　said　Nathan　Lee。　His　hand　was　shaking。　He　laid　the　contents　out　on　the　countertop。　There　was　more　than　he　had　expected；　but　also　less。　All　his　letters　from　jail　were　here；　addressed　to　Grace　Swift；　bundled　together　with　a　string。　Discarded。　There　were　ticket　stubs　to　the　theater；　restaurant　receipts；　Ochs's　membership　card　in　the　NRA；　and　catalogs　for　art　auctions；　deer　hunting；　and　interior　design。　He　went　through　the　evidence；　rooting　for　a　forwarding　address；　a　phone　bill　with　an　area　code；　anything　to　further　his　search。　He　came　to　a　MotoPhoto　envelope　and　his　breath　caught。　The　photos　were　gone；　but　the　envelope　contained　strips　of　color　negatives。　He　held　them　to　the　light；　and　there　she　was　in　reverse；　light　for　dark。
　〃Grace；〃　he　said　out　loud。　She　had　bangs；　he　could　see　that　much。　It　had　been　a　day　at　the　playground。　She　was　on　a　swing　set；　ing　down　a　slide；　dangling　from　the　monkey　bars。　He　smiled。
　He　went　through　the　strips　frame　by　frame。　If　he　could　make　out　the　playground；　he　thought　there　was　a　chance　of　locating　Lydia's　new　neighborhood。　One　frame　had　part　of　a　building　in　the　background。　It　had　a　fairytale　turret　with　a　crenellated　battlement　running　off　the　edge。　Disneyland；　he　thought。　But　on　closer　study；　it　was　the　Castle　at　the　Smithsonian。　That　was　one　clue。
　A　second　clue　waited　at　the　bottom　of　the　box；　a　wedding　invitation。　Mrs。　Swift　had　bee　Lydia　Ochs…Houghton。The　parents　of　Baxter　Montgomery　Houghton　wish　to　announce。　。。。He　looked　at　the　date　twice；　awed　by　her　ability…to　the　very　end…to　blind　him。　Even　as　he　was　crawling　down　from　Makalu　La；　still　missing；　she　was　saying　I　do。　He　put　the　days　together。　June　10：　Ochs　had　probably　made　it　home　in　time　for　the　champagne。　They'd　tricked　him；　brother　and　sister。　He　felt　small。　Everything　had　been　kept　from　him。　While　he　was　fighting　for　visitation　rights；　she　had　been　courting。
　〃You　wrote　those　letters；〃　the　woman　stated。　〃They　were　already　opened。　I　read　them。〃
　He　cleared　his　throat。　He　looked　at　the　envelopes；　and　each　had　been　neatly　slit　with　a　letter　opener　along　the　side；　not　the　top。　That　was　Lydia's　habit。
　〃I　wonder。。。〃　He　balked　at　his　own　foolishness。　〃Do　you　think　my　daughter　ever　heard　a　word　of　what　I　wrote？〃
　〃Did　her　mother　still　love　you？〃
　〃No；〃　said　Nathan　Lee。
　〃Then　I　don't　think　so。〃　The　woman　came　within　an　inch　of　touching　his　arm。　〃She　would　have　been　afraid　of　your　power。〃
　It　was　the　first　kindness　Nathan　Lee　had　experienced　in　a　very　long　time。　He　didn't　know　how　to　respond；　and　so　he　shied　from　it。　〃My　five　minutes　are　up；〃　he　said。　〃I　have　no　way　to　repay　this。〃
　〃Be　a　good　man；〃　the　woman　said　to　him。　That　was　all。
　　
　THE　LEADS　WERE　THIN；　but　Lydia's　trail　was　not　cold。　True；　there　was　no　hint　of　where　she　had　taken　Grace。　The　wedding　invitation　said　nothing　about　her　new　husband's　origins。　After　much　searching；　Nathan　Lee　found　an　unburned　copy　of　the　District　of　Columbia　phone　directory　from　two　years　ago；　and　the　numerous　Houghtons　did　not　include　anyone　named　Baxter；　nor　any　Ochs　named　Lydia。　But　there　was　still　the　Smithsonian。　Ochs　had　been　there；　he　was　sure　of　it；　on　business。　If　the　man　had　started　plundering　for　the　museum；　there　was　bound　to　be　some　record　of　him。
　Reaching　the　Smithsonian　was　no　easy　task。　The　center　of　government…fifty　square　blocks；　including　the　Mall…had　been　sealed　off　from　the　general　populace；　stored　away　until　the　plague　passed　and　the　government　could　return。　At　the　Marine　checkpoints　along　Independence　Avenue；　Nathan　Lee　played　the　absentminded　professor；　insisting　the　museum　had　summoned　him　to　help　assemble　the　bones　of　a　million…year…old　apeman。　It　took　five　hours；　and　two　blood　tests；　to　penetrate　their　defenses。　At　the　last　checkpoint；　an　officer　assigned　two　Marines　to　escort　him　to　his　destination。
　The　sky　sullied　to　gray。　The　air　grew　heavy。　It　was　going　to　rain。
　Government　buildings　stood　barren；　their　ground　floor　windows　boarded　over　as　for　a　hurricane；　the　upper　windows　glassy　and　eyeless。　They　skirted　what　was　left　of　the　FBI　building。　An　explosion　had　gnawed　a　gaping　hole　in　the　edifice。
　They　came　to　the　Mall；　a　vast　green　field　gone　to　seed。　Their　legs　whip…whipped　through　the　uncut　grass。　The　stars…and…stripes　fluttered　at　half　mast　on　the　poles　surrounding　the　Washington　Monument。　Nathan　Lee　looked　around　at　all　the　stillness。　He　was　starting　to　understand。　The　Marines　had　been　assigned　to　watch　over　statues　and　pigeons；　little　more。　The　jewel　of　the　American　empire　lay　hollow。
　A　fine　drizzle　began。　The　two　Marines　put　on　ponchos。　Nathan　Lee　seated　hisYosemite：　The　West　Is　Best　cap　with　neck　flaps　tighter　on　his　head。　He　led　them　to　the　Natural　History　Museum；　which　housed　the　anthropology　collection　and　offices；　but　it　was　boarded　shut。　The　workmen　had　even　sealed　the　edges　with　epoxy。　It　would　take　power　tools　to　cut　one's　way　inside。
　〃I　thought　you　said　this　was　the　place；〃　said　one　of　the　Marines。
　〃They　told　me　the　Smithsonian；〃　Nathan　Lee　blustered。　〃It　has　twelve　different　museums。　I　presumed。。。。〃
　〃e　on；　man；　it's　raining。〃
　Across　the　meadow；　the　Castle　loomed；　its　red　sandstone　towers　and　spires　swathed　in　ivy。　This　was　the　original　building；　its　odd；　Norman　architecture　inspired　by　Sir　Walter　Scott　novels。　A　wet　American　flag　hung　atop　the　central　tower。　〃There；〃　he　said；　〃that　must　be　the　one。〃
　As　they　crossed　to　the　Castle；　he　tried　to　entertain　the　souring　Marines。　〃Abraham　Lincoln　once　surveyed　the　city's　defenses　from　that　tower；〃　he　said。　They　weren't　in　the　mood。　He　threw　out　more　trivia；　wetter　by　the　step。
　Things　did　not　look　promising。　From　the　steps　to　the　high　arch；　the　front　doors　were　barricaded　with　masonry　blocks。　The　windows　were　dark　blanks；　boarded　over　from　the　inside。　The　mighty　fortress　of　collections　and　knowledge　had　bee　a　haunted　house。
　They　circled　the　building　pletely。　Little　markers　at　the　base　of　the　walls　identified　each　different　climbing　vine。　Back　at　the　front　entrance；　they　came　to　halt。　The　sunlight　was　fading　fast。　The　rain　cut　harder；　rattling　against　their　ponchos。　Nathan　Lee　was　drenched；　not　a　convincing　picture。
　〃You　don't　really　belong　here；　do　you？〃　one　of　the　Marines　said。　〃Let's　see　your　paperwork。　Orders。　A　letter　of　authorization。〃
　Nathan　Lee's　bluff　was　crumbling。　Somewhere　inside　these　buildings　were　clues　about　where　Ochs　had　gone；　he　was　certain　of　it。　〃I　told　you。　It　was　verbal。　They　sent　a　messenger。〃
　〃They？　I　don't　see　anyone；　sir。　Where's　your　blood　book？〃
　With　growing　alarm；　Nathan　Lee　handed　it　over；　and　the　soldier　didn't　look　at　it。　They　were　confiscating　his　blood　book！　He　thought　of　running；　but　even　if　they　didn't　shoot　him；　he　would　be　tra