preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第30部分

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s　lucky　break。〃
　Pendergast　fell　silent。　A　barge　on　the　river　gave　out　a　distant；　mournful　bellow。
　〃What　happened　to　her　then？〃
　〃The　paper　trail　ends　at　the　lodging　house　door；〃　Pendergast　replied。
　He　turned　to　her；　his　pale　face　almost　luminous　in　the　gloaming。　〃Enoch　Leng…Doctor　Enoch　Leng…placed　himself　and　his　medical　expertise　at　the　service　of　the　Five　Points　Mission　as　well　as　the　House　of　Industry；　an　orphanage　that　stood　near　where　Chatham　Square　is　today。　He　offered　his　time　pro　bono。　As　we　know；　Dr。　Leng　kept　rooms　on　the　top　floor　of　Shottum's　Cabinet　throughout　the　1870s。　No　doubt　he　had　a　house　somewhere　else　in　the　city。　He　affiliated　himself　with　the　two　workhouses　about　a　year　before　Shottum's　Cabinet　burned　down。〃
　〃We　already　know　from　Shottum's　letter　that　Leng　mitted　those　murders。〃
　〃No　question。〃
　〃Then　why　do　you　need　my　help？〃
　〃There's　almost　nothing　on　record　about　Leng　anywhere。　I've　tried　the　Historical　Society；　the　New　York　Public　Library；　City　Hall。　It's　as　if　he's　been　expunged　from　the　historical　record；　and　I　have　reason　to　think　Leng　himself　might　have　eradicated　his　files。　It　seems　that　Leng　was　an　early　supporter　of　the　Museum　and　an　enthusiastic　taxonomist。　I　believe　there　may　be　more　papers　in　the　Museum　concerning　Leng；　at　least　indirectly。　Their　archives　are　so　vast　and　disorganized　that　it　would　be　virtually　impossible　to　purge　them。〃
　〃Why　me？　Why　doesn't　the　FBI　just　subpoena　the　files　or　something？〃
　〃Files　have　a　way　of　disappearing　as　soon　as　they　are　officially　requested。　Even　if　one　knew　which　files　to　request。　Besides；　I've　seen　how　you　operate。　That　kind　of　petence　is　rare。〃
　Nora　merely　shook　her　head。
　〃Mr。　Puck　has　been；　and　no　doubt　will　continue　to　be；　most　helpful。　And　there's　something　else。　Tinbury　McFadden's　daughter　is　still　alive。　She　lives　in　an　old　house　in　Peekskill。　She's　ninety…five；　but　I　understand　very　much　pos　mentis。　She　may　have　a　lot　to　say　about　her　father。　She　may　have　even　known　Leng。　I　have　a　sense　she'd　be　more　willing　to　speak　to　a　young　woman　like　yourself　than　to　an　agent　of　the　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。〃
　〃You've　still　never　really　explained　why　you've　taken　such　an　interest　in　this　case。〃
　〃The　reasons　for　my　interest　in　the　case　are　unimportant。　What　is　important　is　that　a　human　being　should　not　be　allowed　to　get　away　with　a　crime　like　this。　Even　if　that　person　is　long　dead。　We　do　not　forgive　or　forget　Hitler。　It's　important　to　remember。　The　past　is　part　of　the　present。　At　the　moment；　in　fact；　it's　all　too　much　a　part　of　the　present。〃
　〃You're　talking　about　these　two　new　murders。〃　The　whole　city　was　buzzing　with　the　news。　And　the　same　words　seemed　to　be　on　everyone's　lips：　copycat　killer。
　Pendergast　nodded　silently。
　〃But　do　you　really　think　the　murders　are　connected？　That　there's　some　madman　out　there　who　read　Smithback's　article；　and　is　now　trying　to　duplicate　Leng's　experiments？〃
　〃I　believe　the　murders　are　connected；　yes。〃
　It　was　now　dark。　Water　Street　and　the　piers　beyond　were　deserted。　Nora　shuddered　again。　〃Look；　Mr。　Pendergast；　I'd　like　to　help。　But　it's　like　I　said。　I　just　don't　think　there's　anything　more　I　can　do　for　you。　Personally；　I　think　you'd　do　better　to　investigate　the　new　murders；　not　the　old。〃
　〃That　is　precisely　what　I　am　doing。　The　solution　to　the　new　murders　lies　in　the　old。〃
　She　looked　at　him　curiously。　〃How　so？〃
　〃Now　is　not　the　time；　Nora。　I　don't　have　sufficient　information　to　answer；　not　yet。　In　fact；　I　may　have　already　said　too　much。〃
　Nora　sighed　with　irritation。　〃Then　I'm　sorry；　but　the　bottom　line　is　that　I　simply　can't　afford　to　put　my　job　in　jeopardy　a　second　time。　Especially　without　more　information。　You　understand；　don't　you？〃
　There　was　a　moment's　silence。　〃Of　course。　I　respect　your　decision。〃　Pendergast　bowed　slightly。　Somehow；　he　managed　to　give　even　this　simple　gesture　a　touch　of　elegance。
　　
　Pendergast　asked　the　driver　to　let　him　out　a　block　from　his　apartment　building。　As　the　Rolls…Royce　glided　silently　away；　Pendergast　walked　down　the　pavement；　deep　in　thought。　After　a　few　minutes　he　stopped；　staring　up　at　his　residence：　the　Dakota；　the　vast；　gargoyle…haunted　pile　on　a　corner　of　Central　Park　West。　But　it　was　not　this　structure　that　remained　in　his　mind：　it　was　the　small；　crumbling　tenement　at　Number　16　Water　Street；　where　Mary　Greene　had　once　lived。
　The　house　would　contain　no　specific　information；　it　had　not　been　worth　searching。　And　yet　it　possessed　something　less　definable。　It　was　not　just　the　facts　and　figures　of　the　past　that　he　needed　to　know；　but　its　shape　and　feel。　Mary　Greene　had　grown　up　there。　Her　father　had　been　part　of　that　great　post…Civil　War　exodus　from　the　farms　to　the　cities。　Her　childhood　had　been　hard；　but　it　may　well　have　been　happy。　Stevedores　earned　a　living　wage。　Once　upon　a　time；　she　had　played　on　those　cobbles。　Her　childish　shouts　had　echoed　off　some　of　those　very　bricks。　And　then　cholera　carried　away　her　parents　and　changed　her　life　forever。　There　were　at　least　thirty…five　other　stories　like　hers；　all　of　which　ended　so　cruelly　in　that　basement　charnel。
　There　was　a　faint　movement　at　the　end　of　the　block；　and　Pendergast　turned。　An　old　man　in　black；　wearing　a　derby　hat　and　carrying　a　Gladstone　bag；　was　painfully　making　his　way　up　the　sidewalk。　He　was　bowed；　moving　with　the　help　of　a　cane。　It　was　almost　as　if　Pendergast's　musings　had　conjured　a　figure　out　of　the　past。　The　man　slowly　made　his　way　toward　him；　his　cane　making　a　faint　tapping　noise。
　Pendergast　watched　him　curiously　for　a　moment。　Then　he　turned　back　toward　the　Dakota；　lingering　a　moment　to　allow　the　brisk　night　air　to　clear　his　mind。　But　there　was　little　clarity　to　be　found；　instead　there　was　Mary　Greene；　the　little　girl　laughing　on　the　cobbles。
　
　SEVEN
　　
　IT　HAD　BEEN　days　since　Nora　was　last　in　her　laboratory。　She　eased　the　old　metal　door　open　and　flicked　on　the　lights；　pausing。　Everything　was　as　she　had　left　it。　A　white　table　ran　along　the　far　wall：　binocular　microscope；　flotation　kit；　puter。　To　the　side　stood　black　metal　cabinets　containing　her　specimens…charcoal；　lithics；　bone；　other　organics。　The　still　air　smelled　of　dust；　with　a　faint　overlay　of　smoke；　pi？on；　juniper。　It　momentarily　made　her　homesick　for　New　Mexico。　What　was　she　doing　in　New　York　City；　anyway？　She　was　a　Southwestern　archaeologist。　Her　brother；　Skip；　was　demanding　she　e　home　to　Santa　Fe　on　almost　a　weekly　basis。　She　had　told　Pendergast　she　couldn't　afford　to　lose　her　job　here　at　the　Museum。　But　what　was　the　worst　that　could　happen？　She　could　get　a　position　at　the　University　of　New　Mexico；　or　Arizona　State。　They　both　had　superb　archaeology　departments　where　she　wouldn't　have　to　defend　the　value　of　her　work　to　cretins　like　Brisbane。
　The　thought　of　Brisbane　roused　her。　Cretins　or　not；　this　was　the　New　York　Museum。　She'd　never　get　another　opportunity　like　this　again…not　ever。
　Briskly；　she　stepped　into　the　office；　closing　and　locking　the　door　behind　her。　Now　that　she　had　the　money　for　the　carbon…14　dates；　she　could　get　back　to　real　work。　At　least　that　was　one　thing　this　whole　fiasco　had　done　for　her：　get　her　the　money。　Now　she　could　prepare　the　charcoal　and　organics　for　shipping　to　the　radiocarbon　lab　at　the　University　of　Michigan。　Once　she　had　the　dates；　her　work　on　the　Anasazi…Aztec　connection　could　begin　in　earnest。
　She　opened　the　first　cabinet　and　carefully　removed　a　tray　containing　dozens　of　stoppered　test　tubes。　Each　was　labeled；　and　each　contained　a　single　specimen：　a　bit　of　charcoal；　a　carbonized　seed；　a　fragment　of　a　corn　cob；　a　bit　of　wood　or　bone。　She　removed　three　of　the　trays；　placing　them　on　the　white　table。　Then　she　booted　her　workstation　and　called　up　the　catalogue　matrices。　She　began　cross…checking；　making　sure　every　specimen　had　the　proper　label　and　site　location。　At　275　a　shot　for　the　dating；　it　was　important　to　be　accurate。
　As　she　worked；　her　mind　began　to　wander　back　to　the　events　of　the　past　few　days。　She　wondered　if　the　relationship　with　Brisbane　could　ever　be　repaired。　He　was　a　difficult　boss；　but　a　boss　nonetheless。　And　he　was　shrewd；　sooner　or　later　he'd　realize　that　it　would　be　best　for　everyone　if　they　could　bury　the　hatchet　and…
　Nora　shook　her　head　abruptly；　a　little　guilty　about　this　selfish　line　of　thought。　Smithback's　article　hadn't　just　gotten　her　into　hot　water…it　had　apparently　inspired　a　copycat　killer　the　tabloids　were　already　dubbing　〃The　Surgeon。〃　She　couldn't　understand　how　Smithback　thought　the　article　would　help。　She'd　always　known　he　was　a　careerist；　but　this　was　too　much。　A　bumbling　egomaniac。　She　remembered　her　first　sight　of　him　in　Page；　Arizona；　surrounded　by　bimbos　in　bathing　suits；　giving　out　autographs。　Trying　to；　anyway。　What　a　joke。　She　should　have　trusted　her　first　impression　of　him。
　Her　mind　wandered　from　Smithback　to　Pendergast。　A　strange　man。　She　wasn't　even　sure　he　was　authorized　to　be　working　on　the　case。　Would　the　FBI　just　let　one　of　their　agents　freelance　like　this？　Why　was　he　so　evasive　about　his　interest？　Was　he　just　secretive　by　nature？　Whatever　the　situation；　it　was　most　peculiar。　She　was　out　of　it　now；　and　glad。　Very　glad。
　And　yet；　as　she　went　back　to　the　tubes；　she　realized　she　wasn't　feeling　all　that　glad。　Maybe　it　was　just　that　this　sorting　and　checking　was　tedious　work；　but　she　realized　Mary　Greene　and　her　sad　life　was　lingering　in　the　back　of　her　mind。　The　dim　tenement；　the　pathetic　dress；　the　pitiful　note　。　。　。
　With　an　effort；　she　pushed　it　all　away。　Mary　Greene　and　her　family　were　long　gone。　It　was　tragic；　it　was　horrifying…but　it　was　no　concern　of　hers。
　Sorting　pleted；　she　began　packing　the　tubes　in　their　special　Styrofoam　shipping　containers。　Better　to　break　it　down　into　three　batches；　just　in　case　one　got　lost。　Sealing　the　containers；　she　turned　to　the　bills　of　lading　and　FedEx　shipping　labels。
　A　knock　sounded　at　the　door。　The　knob　turned；　but　the　locked　door　merely　rattled　in　its　frame。　She　glanced　over。
　〃Who　is　it？〃　she　called。
　The　hoarse　whisper　was　muffled　by　the　door。
　〃Who？〃　She　felt　a　sudden　fear。
　〃Me。　Bill。〃　The　furtive　voice　was　louder。
　Nora　stood　up　with　a　mixture　of　relief　and　anger。　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃
　〃Open　up。〃
　〃Are　you　kidding？　Get　out　of