th.red dragon-第25部分

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　Graham's　face　was　pale。　Crawford's　was　red。　Dr。　Bloom　watched　the　tape　reels　go　around。
　〃Can　you　hear　me？〃
　〃Yes；　I'm　preferring　charges。〃　Graham's　voice　was　strangled。　〃Obstruction　of　justice。　Please　take　him　in　and　hold　him　for　the　U。S　attomey。〃
　Suddenly　Lounds　was　on　the　telephone。　He　spoke　fast　and　clearly　with　the　cotton　wads　out　of　his　cheeks。
　〃Will；　listen…〃
　〃Tell　it　to　the　U。S。　attomey。　Put　Sergeant　Riddle　on　the　phone。〃
　〃I　know　something…〃
　〃Put　Riddle　on　the　goddamned　telephone。〃
　Crawford's　voice　came　on　the　line。　〃Let　me　have　it'　Will。〃
　Graham　slammed　his　receiver　down　with　a　bang　that　made　every…one　in　range　of　the　speakerphone　flinch。　He　came　out　of　the　booth　and　left　the　room　without　looking　at　anyone。
　〃Lounds；　you　have　hubbed　hell；　my　man；〃　Crawford　said。
　〃You　want　to　catch　him　or　not？　I　can　help　you。　Let　me　talk　one　minute。〃　Lounds　hurried　into　Crawford's　silence。　〃Listen；　you　just　showed　me　how　bad　you　need　the　Tattler。　Before；　I　wasn't　sure　…　now　I　am。　That　ad's　part　of　the　Tooth　Fairy　case　or　you　wouldn't　have　gone　balls…out　to　nail　this　call。　Great。　The　Tattler's　here　for　you。　Anything　you　want。〃
　〃How　did　you　find　out？〃
　〃The　ad　manager　came　to　me。　Said　your　Chicago　office　sent　this　suit…of…clothes　over　to　check　the　ads。　Your　guy　took　five　letters　from　the　ining　ads。　Said　it　was　'pursuant　to　mail　fraud。'　Mail　fraud　nothing。　The　ad　manager　made　Xerox　copies　of　the　letters　and　envelopes　before　he　let　your　guy　have　them。
　〃I　looked　them　over。　I　knew　he　took　five　letters　to　smokescreen　the　one　he　really　wanted。　Took　a　day　or　two　to　check　them　all　out。　The　answer　was　on　the　envelope。　Chesapeake　postmark。　The　postage…meter　number　was　for　Chesapeake　State　Hospital。　I　was　over　there　you　know；　behind　your　friend　with　the　wild　hair　up　his　ass。　What　else　could　it　be？　　　　　　　　　　
　〃I　had　to　be　sure；　though。　Thats　why　I　called　to　see　if　you'd　e　down　on　'Mr。　Pilgrim'　with　both　feet；　and　you　did。〃
　〃You　made　a　large　mistake　Freddy。〃
　〃You　need　the　Tattler　and　l　can　open　it　up　for　you。　Ads；　editorial；　monitoring　ining　mail；　anything。　You　name　it。　I　can　be　discreet。　I　can。　Cut　me　in；　Crawford。〃
　〃There's　nothing　to　cut　you　in　on。〃
　〃Okay；　then　it　won't　make　any　difference　if　somebody　happened　to　put　in　six　personal　ads　next　issue。　All　to　'Mr。　Pilgrim'　and　signed　the　same　way。〃
　〃I'll　get　an　injunction　slapped　on　you　and　a　sealed　indictment　for　obstruction　of　justice。〃　　　　　　　　　〃And　it　might　leak　to　every　pape　in　the　country。〃　Lounds　knew　he　was　talking　on　tape。　He　didn't　care　anymore。　〃I　swear　to　God　I'll　do　it；　Crawford。　I'll　tear　up　your　chance　before　I　lose　mine。〃
　〃Add　interstate　transmition　of　a　threatening　message　to　what　I　just　said。〃
　〃Let　me　help　you；　Jack。　I　can；　believe　me。〃
　〃Run　along　to　the　police　station；　Freddy。　Now　put　the　sergeant　back　on　the　phone。〃
　
　#　#　#
　
　Freddy　Lounds's　Lincoln　Versailles　smelled　of　hair　tonic　and　aftershave；　socks　and　cigars；　and　the　police　sergeant　was　glad　to　get　out　of　it　when　they　reached　the　station　house。
　Lounds　knew　the　captain　manding　the　precinct　and　many　of　the　patrolmen。　The　captain　gave　Lounds　coffee　and　called　the　U。S。　attorney's　office　to　〃try　and　clear　this　shit　up。〃
　No　federal　marshal　came　for　Lounds。　In　half　an　hour　he　took　a　call　from　Crawford　in　the　precinct　mander's　office。　Then　he　was　free　to　go。　The　captain　walked　him　to　his　car。
　Lounds　was　keyed　up　and　his　driving　was　fast　and　jerky　as　he　crossed　the　Loop　eastward　to　his　apartrnent　overlooking　Lake　Michigan。　There　were　several　things　he　wanted　out　of　this　story　and　he　knew　that　he　could　get　them。　Money　was　one；　and　most　of　that　would　e　from　the　paperback。　He　would　have　an　instant　paperback　on　the　stands　thirty…six　hours　after　the　capture。　An　exclusive　story　in　the　daily　press　would　be　a　news　coup。　He　would　have　the　satisfaction　of　seeing　the　straight　press　…　the　Chicago　Tribune；　the　Los　Angeles　Times；　the　sanctified　Washington　Post　and　the　holy　New　York　Times　…　run　his　copyrighted　material　under　his　byline　with　his　picture　credits。
　And　then　the　correspondents　of　those　august　journals；　who　looked　down　on　him；　who　would　not　drink　with　him；　could　eat　their　fucking　hearts　out。
　Lounds　was　a　pariah　to　them　because　he　had　taken　a　different　faith。　Had　he　been　inpetent；　a　fool　with　no　other　resource；　the　veterans　of　the　straight　press　could　have　forgiven　him　for　working　on　the　Tattler；　as　one　forgives　a　retarded　geek。　But　Lounds　was　good。　He　had　the　qualities　of　a　good　reporter　…　intelligence；　guts；　and　the　good　eye。　He　had　great　energy　and　patience。
　Against　him　were　the　fact　that　he　was　obnoxious　and　therefore　disliked　by　news　executives；　and　his　inability　to　keep　himself　out　of　his　stories。
　In　Lounds　was　the　lunging　need　to　be　noticed　that　is　often　miscalled　ego。　Lounds　was　lumpy　and　ugly　and　small。　He　had　buck　teeth　and　his　rat　eyes　had　the　sheen　of　spit　on　asphalt。
　He　had　worked　in　straight　journalism　for　ten　years　when　he　realized　that　no　one　would　ever　send　him　to　the　White　House。　He　saw　that　his　publishers　would　wear　his　legs　out；　use　him　until　it　was　time　for　him　to　bee　a　broken…down　old　drunk　manning　a　dead…end　desk；　drifting　inevitably　toward　cirrhosis　or　a　mattress　fire。
　They　wanted　the　information　he　could　get；　but　they　didn't　want　Freddy。　They　paid　him　top　scale；　which　is　not　very　much　money　if　you　have　to　buy　women。　They　patted　his　back　and　told　him　he　had　a　lot　of　balls　and　they　refused　to　put　his　name　on　a　parking　place。
　One　evening　in　1969　while　in　the　office　working　rewrite；　Freddy　had　an　epiphany。
　Frank　Larkin　was　seated　near　him　taking　dictation　on　the　telephone。　Dictation　was　the　glue　factory　for　old　reporters　on　the　paper　where　Freddy　worked。　Frank　Larkin　was　fifty…five；　but　he　looked　seventy。　He　was　oystereyed　and　he　went　to　his　locker　every　half…hour　for　a　drink。　Freddy　could　smell　him　from　where　he　sat。
　Larkin　got　up　and　shuffled　over　to　the　slot　and　spoke　in　a　hoarse　whisper　to　the　news　editor；　a　woman。　Freddy　always　listened　to　other　people's　conversatious。
　Larkin　asked　the　woman　to　get　him　a　Kotex　from　the　machine　in　the　ladies'　room。　He　had　to　use　them　on　his　bleeding　behind。
　Freddy　stopped　typing。　He　took　the　story　out　of　his　typewriter；　replaced　the　paper　and　wrote　a　letter　of　resignation。
　A　week　later　he　was　working　for　the　Tattler。
　He　started　as　cancer　editor　at　a　salary　nearly　double　what　he　had　earned　before。　Management　was　impressed　with　his　attitude。
　The　Tattler　could　afford　to　pay　him　well　because　the　paper　found　cancer　very　lucrative。
　One　in　five　Americans　dies　of　it。　The　relatives　of　the　dying；　worn　out；　prayed　out；　trying　to　fight　a　raging　carcinoma　with　pats　and　banana　pudding　and　copper…tasting　jokes；　are　desperate　for　anything　hopeful。
　Marketing　surveys　showed　that　a　bold　〃New　Cure　for　Cancer〃　or　〃Cancer　Miracle　Drug〃　cover　line　boosted　supermarket　sales　of　any　Tattler　issue　by　22。3　percent。　There　was　a　six…percentile　drop　in　those　sales　when　the　story　ran　on　page　one　beneath　the　cover　line；　as　the　reader　had　time　to　scan　the　empty　text　while　the　groceries　were　being　totaled。
　Marketing　experts　discovered　it　was　better　to　have　the　big　cover　line　in　color　on　the　front　and　play　the　story　in　the　middle　pages；　where　it　was　difficult　to　hold　the　paper　open　and　manage　a　purse　and　grocery　cart　at　the　same　time。
　The　standard　story　featured　an　optimistic　five　paragraphs　in　ten…point　type；　then　a　drop　to　eight　point；　then　to　six　point　before　mentioning　that　the　〃miracle　drug〃　was　unavailable　or　that　animal　research　was　just　beginning。
　Freddy　earned　his　money　turning　them　out；　and　the　stories　sold　a　lot　of　Tattlers。
　In　addition　to　increased　readership；　there　were　many　spinoff　sales　of　miracle　medallions　and　healing　cloths。　Manufacturers　of　these　paid　a　premium　to　get　their　ads　located　close　to　the　weekly　cancer　story。
　Many　readers　wrote　to　the　paper　for　more　information。　Some　additional　revenue　was　realized　by　selling　their　names　to　a　radio　〃evangelist；〃　a　screaming　sociopath　who　wrote　to　them　for　money；　using　envelopes　stamped　〃Someone　You　Love　Will　Die　Unless　。　。　。〃
　Freddy　Lounds　was　good　for　the　Tattler；　and　the　Tattler　was　good　to　him。　Now；　after　eleven　years　with　the　paper；　he　earned　72；000　a　year。　He　covered　pretty　much　what　he　pleased　and　spent　the　money　trying　to　have　a　good　time。　He　lived　as　well　as　he　knew　how　to　live。
　The　way　things　were　developing；　he　believed　he　could　raise　the　ante　on　his　paperback　deal；　and　there　was　movie　interest。　He　had　heard　that　Hollywood　was　a　fine　place　for　obnoxious　fellows　with　money。
　Freddy　felt　good。　He　shot　down　the　ramp　to　the　underground　garage　in　his　building　and　wheeled　into　his　parking　place　with　a　spirited　squeal　of　rubber。　There　on　the　wall　was　his　name　in　letters　a　foot　high；　marking　his　private　spot。　Mr。　Frederick　Lounds。
　Wendy　was　here　already　…　her　Datsun　was　parked　next　to　his　space。　Good。　He　wished　he　could　take　her　to　Washington　with　him。　That　would　make　those　flatfeet's　eyes　pop。　He　whistled　in　the　elevator　on　his　way　upstairs。
　
　#　#　#
　
　Wendy　was　packing　for　him。　She　had　lived　out　of　suitcases　and　she　did　a　good　job。
　Neat　in　her　jeans　and　plaid　shirt；　her　brown　hair　gathered　in　a　chipmunk　tail　on　her　neck；　she　might　have　been　a　farm　girl　except　for　her　pallor　and　her　shape。　Wendy's　figure　was　almost　a　caricature　of　puberty。
　She　looked　at　Lounds　with　eyes　that　had　not　registered　surprise　in　years。　She　saw　that　he　was　trembling。
　〃You're　working　too　hard；　Roscoe。〃　She　liked　to　call　him　Roscoe；　and　it　pleased　him　for　some　reason。　〃What　are　you　taking；　the　six…o'clock　shuttle？〃　She　brought　him　a　drink　and　moved　her　sequined　jump　suit　and　wig　case　off　the　bed　so　he　could　lie　down。　〃I　can　take　you　to　the　airport。　I'm　not　going　to　the　club　'til　six。〃
　〃Wendy　City〃　was　her　own　topless　bar；　and　she　didn't　have　to　dance　anymore。　Lounds　had　cosigned　the　note。
　〃You　sounded　like　Morocco　Mole　when　you　called　me；〃　she　said。
　〃Who？〃
　〃You　know；　on　television　Saturday　morning；　he's　real　mysterious　and　he　helps　Secret　Squirrel。　We　watched　it　when　you　had　the　flu　。　。　。　You　really　pulled　one　off　today；　didn't　you？　You're　really　pleased　with　yourself。〃
　〃Damn　straight。　I　took　a　chance　toda