thedestroyer.deathcheck-第5部分

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　〃No；〃　said　Remo；　lying。　He　had　seen　the　two　big　men；　one　black　and　the　other　white；　pretending　to　lounge　on　the　seats　behind　them。　〃Beautiful　skyline；　don't　you　think？〃　He　breathed　deeply　of　the　almost　breathable　air　between　Staten　Island　and　New　York　City。
　〃You　are　going　to　open　the　package　because　you　want　to　save　your　life。　Look　behind　you。〃
　〃And　leave　the　beauty　of　the　gulls　and　the　twin　towers　of　the　trade　center；　the　Empire　State　Building？　My　little　island　in　the　sun？〃
　Remo　did　a　little　semi…pushup　against　the　second　deck　railing　of　the　ferry　and　watched　the　white　churning　swirls　bubble　out　back　toward　Manhattan。　Then　he　felt　two　strong　arms　on　each　of　his　arms。　He　looked　again　at　the　man　with　the　gray　package　and　the　sneer　and　said：
　〃You're　not　going　to　believe　this。　But　I'll　give　you　all　a　chance　to　live。〃
　The　man　did　not　believe　this。　The　man　believed　he　was　talking　to　a　prankster。
　So　the　man　who　cared　about　photography　went　with　the　large　men　and　the　man　with　the　package　to　a　paint　store　on　Staten　Island。　The　store　was　closed　that　day；　but　it　was　opened　for　them　by　a　fat　man。　With　a　gun。
　The　man　who　loved　photography　tried。　He　said：　〃Look。　You're　just　a　messenger。　You　give　the　package　to　me；　I'm　just　a　messenger。　I　give　it　to　someone　else。　Why　should　we　fight　over　it？〃
　The　man　with　the　package　sneered　again。　〃You're　wrong　all　around。　I'm　not　just　your　messenger。　He　met　with　an　accident。　You　are　not　just　a　messenger。　I　was　informed　otherwise。　It　seems　you　lose。〃
　〃Last　chance　to　reconsider；〃　Remo　said。
　〃Sorry；〃　said　the　other。　〃We'll　have　to　risk　it。〃
　Remo　registered　the　moves　of　his　four　adversaries。　The　two　big　men　were　obviously　in　condition；　he　had　felt　how　light　they　were　on　their　feet　when　they　walked　him　off　the　ferry。　The　man　with　the　package　had　been　in　condition　once。　The　short　man　who　had　opened　the　door　was　very　fat　and　had　never　been　in　condition。　But　he　made　up　for　it。　He　carried　a　snub…nosed　revolver。　A　snub…nosed　revolver　is　good　for　one　thing。　Close　work。　What　it　loses　in　accuracy；　it　gains　in　pactness。　It's　not　easy　to　reach　out；　grab　the　barrel　and　the　cylinder；　and　smother　the　falling　hammer；　all　in　one　motion。
　The　two　big　men　stayed　behind　Remo　as　the　man　put　the　gray　package　down　on　the　counter。　The　fat　man　stayed　near　the　shuttered　door。
　〃Well；〃　said　the　man　who　had　held　the　package。
　〃This　is　the　package　and　not　an　imitation？〃
　〃This　is　the　package。〃
　〃If　it's　an　imitation；　I　can　get　hurt。〃
　〃It　is　the　package。〃
　〃These　things　tend　to　explode。〃。
　〃Open　it。〃
　Remo　carefully　removed　the　clear　tape　from　the　tips　of　the　gray　package。　Through　the　holes　in　the　corners　protruded　four　knots　of　thin　red　string。　The　knots　were　symmetrical。　As　Remo　looked　at　them；　deeply；　with　his　mind　free；　he　could　almost　feel　the　inner　harmony　of　the　man　who　had　tied　them。　It　was　the　real　package。　Chiun　had　tied　the　knots。
　〃Something　wrong；　Pelham？〃
　〃How　did　you　know　my　name　was　Pelham？〃
　〃Untie　the　package。〃
　〃How　did　you　know　my　name　was　Pelham？〃
　〃Untie　the　package　and　I'll　tell　you。〃
　〃I　think　you　intend　to　kill　me。〃
　The　man　sneered　again。　〃That's　right。　But　we　can　kill　you　quickly。　Decently。　Or　we　can　kill　you　slowly　and　painfully。　Like　your　messenger。　Like　this。〃
　He　nodded　and　the　two　big　men　grabbed　Remo's　head　in　their　hands　and　began　to　squeeze。　The　fat　man　with　the　snub…nosed　gun　giggled。　The　man　with　the　package　watched；　waiting　to　see　pain　and　surrender　in　the　victims'　eyes。
　But　there　was　no　surrender。　Only　a　flash　of　contempt　and　anger。　The　man　dropped　to　his　hands；　fast　before　he　could　be　held　up。　Into　the　close　kneecap　of　the　black　man　went　an　elbow；　driving　the　kneecap　through　the　joint；　spinning　the　body　upside　down　so　the　Afro　went　crashing　into　the　counter　with　a　crack。　Up　into　the　white　man's　groin　went　a　single　hard　finger；　crushing　a　testicle　and　driving　the　man　into　the　air　and　then　back　against　a　pyramid　of　red　paint　cans　which　caught　the　shocked　body　and　surrendered；　splaying　cans　across　the　floor。
　The　fat　man　tried　to　squeeze　the　trigger。　He　was　still　trying　when　his　muscles　stopped　receiving　signals。　They　stopped　receiving　signals　because　there　was　something　wrong　with　the　remnants　of　his　spinal　column。　A　whole　vertebra　was　in　his　throat。
　The　two　big　men　were　retching　on　the　floor。　The　man　who　had　held　the　package　just　gasped。　When　he　saw　the　now…hard　brown　eyes　stare　into　his　mind　and　feed　upon　his　fear；　when　he　suddenly　smelled　his　own　death　upon　him；　he　urinated。
　〃How　did　you　know　my　name　was　Pelham？〃
　〃I　was　told。〃
　〃By　someone　at　Folcroft？〃
　〃I　never　heard　of　Folcroft。〃
　〃Who　told　you？〃
　The　man　had　edged　away　from　the　package　along　behind　the　paint　store　counter。　Now　he　said　calmly；　〃There's　a　man　behind　you　with　a　gun。〃
　The　man　was　a　pro。　He　could　suffer　a　setback；　regain　his　posure；　then　try　a　very　old　trick　that　almost　always　worked。　The　trick　assumed　that　the　person　it　was　used　on　was　so　engrossed　in　the　tension　of　the　conversation　that　he　had　shut　off　his　perception　of　other　things。
　This　was　true　of　most　people。　But　most　people　had　not　stood　for　hours　in　empty　gymnasiums；　dodging　three　swinging　knives；　suspended　by　ropes　from　the　ceiling；　while　being　expected　to　yell　out　how　many　doors　behind　them　opened　and　closed　when　they　opened　and　closed。　When　practiced；　enough；　this　indelibly　trained　the　perception　so　that　it　took　a　conscious　act　of　will　to　turn　it　off。　It　did　not　turn　off　during　tension。　But　how　was　the　man　behind　the　counter　to　know　it？
　He　was　so　terribly　involved　with　the　gun　he　was　bringing　up　from　behind　the　counter　that　he　just　assumed　the　trick　would　work。　He　knew　it　would　not　when　his　wrist　ceased　to　function　and　he　lost　consciousness。
　Remo　permanently　ended　the　convulsions　of　the　two　athletes。　Then　he　placed　the　fat　man　behind　the　counter　where　he　belonged。　He　lifted　all　three　of　their　wallets。　He　was　taking　the　wallet　from　the　pocket　of　the　man　with　the　package　when　the　man　stirred。　Remo　had　another　question：　〃What　happened　to　the　messenger？〃
　The　man　was　no　longer　afraid　of　death　since　it　had；　he　knew；　bee　inevitable。　〃I　killed　him。　I　shot　his　eyes　out。　I　enjoyed　it。〃　He　sneered。
　Remo　reached　down　and　squeezed　his　broken　wrist；　hard　enough　to　feel　one　broken　bone　skid　against　another。　With　a　shriek；　the　man　passed　out　again。
　When　the　man　came　to　a　few　minutes　later；　his　head　hurt　more　than　his　wrist。　His　eyes　bulged　in　horror　as　he　realized　that　his　head　was　squeezed　top　and　bottom　between　the　two　metal　plates　of　an　electric　paint…mixing　machine。　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　he　saw　Remo　toss　the　〃on〃　switch。　Then　he　felt　his　head　separate　from　his　neck　and　he　never　saw　anything　again。
　Remo　looked　back　over　the　scene。　A　paint　store　owner　was　robbed　and　brutally　attacked。　A　passerby　who　tried　to　stop　the　robbery　had　his　head　locked　in　the　paint　mixer。　Okay。　Then　who　killed　the　two　robbers？　Who　stole　their　wallets？　To　hell　with　it。　Let　the　Daily　News　figure　it　out。　They　were　good　at　that　sort　of　thing。
　Remo　picked　up　the　gray　box；　stuffed　the　four　dead　men's　wallets　into　his　raincoat　pocket　and　locked　the　door　behind　him。
　He　stopped　at　a　stationery　store；　brought　a　strip　of　brown　wrapping　paper；　and　made　a　package　of　the　four　wallets。　He　addressed　it　to　Dr。　Harold　W。　Smith；　Folcroft　Sanitarium；　Rye；　New　York；　and　mailed　it　at　a　small　branch　post　office。
　Smith　read　the　papers。　He　would　know　what　corpses　had　surrendered　the　wallets。　Remo　would　find　out　later　who　they　were。
　On　the　ferry　back　to　New　York　City；　two　nine…year…old　twin　boys　going　bang…bang　with　their　fingers　were　given　a　snub…nosed。38　and　a。32　caliber　Smith　and　Wesson…　both　cartridge　free…to　play　with。
　When　their　shocked　mother　inquired　where　the　two　boys　had　gotten　the　guns；　they　couldn't　really　describe　the　man。
　〃He　was　nice　and…I　don't　know…he　was　just　a　grownup。〃
　〃Yeah。　He　was　a　real　grownup；　Mommy。〃
　
　CHAPTER　SIX
　
　When　Remo　saw　the　first　picture；　he　began　to　chuckle。　Then　laugh。　Then　guffaw；　then　shake　so　hard　he　almost　dropped　the　whole　package　into　the　wet　motel　sink　where　he　had　unravelled　the　strings　according　to　instructions　taught　him　years　before。
　Under　a　half…page　biography　of　Dr。　Abram　Schulter；　M。D。；　Ph。D。；　fellow　of　the　American　College　of　Surgeons；　Diplomate　of　the　American　Neurological　Society；　Nobel　Laureate；　pioneer　in　brain　surgery；　was　a　photograph　of　Doctor　Schulter　in　action。
　He　was　nude；　a　frail　man　with　a　big；　happy　grin；　fornicating　with　a　dark　haired　girl。　Strapped　to　his　back；　and　just　as　obviously　mounting　him；　was　a　toy　giraffe；　the　large　furry　type　children　like　to　pretend　they　are　riding。
　Doctor　Schulter　was　smiling　as　if　he　had　realized　something　very　funny。　Perhaps；　thought　Remo；　that　he　loved　the　giraffe　more。
　The　two　other　pictures　showed　Doctor　Schulter：　
　A）　mounting　the　toy　with　the　girl　mounting　him；　
　B）　mounted　by　the　toy　which　was　mounted　by　the　girl。
　The　biography　continued：　〃Doctor　Schulter。　Foremost　authority　on　brain　waves。　Married　20　years；　two　children；　active　in　Professional　Societies；　American　Art　Association；　National　Disturbed　Children　Foundation。　No　serious　political　connections。　Top　security　clearance。〃
　Then　Remo　went　though　the　other　pictures　and　biographies。
　Dr。　Anthony　J。　Ferrante；　an　expert　in　bio…feedback；　whatever　the　hell　that　was；　stood　in　a　karate　shirt　minus　the　karate　pants。　He　did　not　need　the　pants　to　protect　his　modesty　because　there　was　a　girl　in　the　camera's　way。　On　her　knees。　Apparently　the　same　girl　who　had　been　teaching　the　neurosurgeon　the　secrets　of　the　giraffe　was　now　demonstrating　a　different　kind　of　secret　to　Dr。　Ferrante。　Doctor　Ferrante　was　demonstrating　to　the　camera　a　karate　blow。　His　face　was　dark　and　intent。　Karate；　thought　Remo；　can　be　serious　business。
　Dr。　Robert　Boyle；　a　bio…cycle　analyst；　liked　the　plain　old　missionary　position。　This　was　not　surprising　since　Doctor　Boyle　was　a　Jesuit　priest。
　Dr。　Nils　Brewster；　…　distinguished　head　of　Brewster　Forum　and　author　of　the　famous　〃Dynamics　of　Peace；　the　study　of　aggression　and　containment；〃　discovered　a　new　level　of　containment。　He　was　dressed　in　chains。
　Dr。　James　Ratchett；　biochemist；　was　dressed　formally。　I