thedestroyer.deathcheck-第7部分

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　The　door　opened　and　down　around　the　doorknob　was　a　little　girl　with　pigtails；　round　pink　cheeks；　a　smile　and　dancing　eyes。
　〃Hello；〃　she　said。　〃My　name　is　Stephanie　Brewster。　I'm　six　years　old　and　the　daughter　of　Dr。　Nils　Brewster　who　is　obviously　my　father　since　I　am　his　daughter。〃
　〃Obviously；〃　said　Remo。　〃I'm　Remo　Pelham；　I'm　thirty　two　years　old　and　I　am　your　new　policeman　for　Brewster　Forum。　I'm　taking　the　place　of　the　man　who　went　away。〃
　〃You　mean　you're　our　new　security　officer。　To　replace　Mr。　McCarthy　who　OD'd　last　week？〃
　〃OD'd？〃
　〃Yes。　He　took　an　overdose　of　heroin。　Would　you　call　that　a　drug　problem？　I　mean　if　one　man　takes　an　overdose　and　dies；　does　that　constitute　a　problem？　Obviously；　it　is　no　problem　for　him。〃
　
　Remo　looked　more　closely。　Okay；　she　wasn't　a　midget。　Maybe　there　was　a　speaker　planted　on　her。
　Stephanie　Brewster　smiled　mischievously。　〃You're　shocked　because　I've　added　a　new　dimension　to　reality。　Six…year…old　girls　are　not　supposed　to　be　so　aware。　But　I'm　very　aware。　Prematurely　aware；　they　say；　and　I'm　going　to　face　problems　because　of　it　when　I　grow　up　unless　I　learn　to　adjust　my　own　peer　group。　That's　what　daddy　says。　Only　my　older　sister；　Ardath；　who　is　fifteen　years　old；　is　just　as　aware；　and　she　adjusted。　So　therefore；　I　should　adjust。　Right？〃
　〃I　guess　so；〃　said　Remo。
　〃Would　you　like　to　see　my　daddy？〃
　〃Yes；　I　would。〃。
　〃I'll　show　you　where　he　is　if　you　play　Frisbee　with　me　first。〃
　〃Why　don't　you　show　me　where　your　daddy　is　now　and　then　we'll　play　Frisbee？〃
　〃Because　if　we　play　Frisbee　first；　then　we'll　play　Frisbee　for　sure。　But　if　it's　later；　then　maybe　we'll　play　Frisbee。　Reality　is　so　much　more　meaningful　than　a　promise；　don't　you　think？　Especially　a　promise　from　someone　over　eight。〃
　〃I　never　trusted　anyone　over　eight　myself；〃　Remo　said。　When　you　are　overwhelmed；　you　are　overwhelmed。
　〃Do　you　have　a　Frisbee？〃
　〃No；　I'm　afraid　I　don't。〃
　〃But　you　said　you　would　play　Frisbee　with　me　and　if　you　don't　have　a　Frisbee；　how　can　we　play　Frisbee　together？〃　Her　faint　brows　furrowed　and　her　mouth　turned　down。　Her　blue　eyes　filled　with　tears。　She　stamped　a　foot。　〃You　said　you'd　play　Frisbee　with　me　and　you're　not　playing　Frisbee。　You　said　you'd　play　and　you　don't　have　a　Frisbee。　And　how　can　we　play　Frisbee　if　you　don't　have　one？　I　don't　have　a　Frisbee。〃
　Then　Stephanie　Brewster　covered　her　eyes　and　cried　like　the　six…year…old　girl　she　was。　And　Remo　picked　her　up　and　held　her　and　promised　her　a　Frisbee；　but　she　would　have　to　stop　rubbing　her　eyes　because　that　was　bad　for　them。
　〃I　know；〃　sobbed　Stephanie　Brewster。　〃The　retina　is　sensitive　to　pressure。〃
　〃Would　you　like　to　learn　a　Korean　proverb？〃
　〃What？〃　asked　Stephanie　cautiously；　clinging　to　her　unhappiness　lest　the　offering　fail　to　match　in　value　the　tears　she　was　shedding。
　〃You　should　rub　your　eyes　only　with　your　elbows。〃　？　〃But　you　can't　rub　your　eyes　with　your　elbows。〃
　Remo　smiled。　And　Stephanie　laughed。　〃I　see。　I　see。　You're　not　supposed　to　rub　your　eyes。〃
　〃That's　right。〃
　〃I　like　you。　e；　take　me　into　the　office。〃
　Remo　walked　into　an　office　off　the　living　room。　And　he　was　horrified　to　learn　that　this　was　where　Nils　Brewster　did　most　of　his　work；　that　the　papers　scattered　about　were　the　thinking　of　Brewster　Forum；　and　no　doubt　contained　that　little　plan　for　world　conquest。　No　gates；　no　locks；　and　a　six…year…old　girl　who　said；
　〃I　don't　understand　that　yet；　but　you　can　read　it。　But　leave　the　papers　in　the　same　order。　Daddy's　fussy。〃
　Leave　them　in　the　same　order。　Her　father　might　die　for　those　papers　because　he　was　fussy　and　left　them　in　the　same　order。　Remo　felt　sick。
　But　he　forced　himself　to　think　of　millions　of　people　and　their　lives。　He　stretched　thousands　out　on　roads；　smiling；　holding　hands；　every　home　in　America；　every　family；　every　crowd。　And　he　knew　that　if　the　word　came；　he　would　do　his　duty　and　kill…even　if　it　was　the　glorious；　brilliant　Nils　Brewster；　and　even　though　his　death　would　shatter　this　delicious　child；　Stephanie。
　It　was　Remo's　good　fortune　that　he　soon　met　Nils　Brewster；　and　the　meeting　made　his　possible　assignment　a　great　deal　easier。
　
　CHAPTER　EIGHT
　
　Nils　Brewster　was　not　dressed　in　chains　as　he　had　been　for　his　nude　portrait。　He　wore　a　short…sleeved　blue　shirt；　chinos　and　sneakers。　His　hair　flew　about　his　head　like　tornado…whipped　tumbleweed。
　Stephanie　had　gone　off　to　tell　her　mother　about　the　new　director　of　security；　and　had　left　Remo　in　the　only　large　building　hi　the　pound　that　might　have　housed　a　laboratory。　It　did　not。　It　was　an　auditorium；　now　filled　with　people　crowded　around　tables。
　The　first　thing　Doctor　Brewster　said　to　Remo　was：　〃Shhhhh。〃
　〃I'm　Remo　Pelham；　the　new。。。。〃
　〃I　know；　I　know。　Shhhhhh。'〃
　He　turned　and　Remo　followed。　It　was　a　chess　tourna　ment。　Remo　would　learn　later　that　Brewster　Forum　had　not　only　a　chess　tournament；　but　a　chess　instructor；　a　tennis　pro；　a　golf　pro；　a　singing　teacher；　a　karate　instructor；　a　musical　conductor；　its　own　little　newspaper　published　for　the　twenty…three　people　who　could　understand　what　was　going　on　in　the　forum；　including　to　Remo's　awesome　shock；　a　Russian…and　a　sky…diving　coach。
　〃We　provide　what　people　need　or　ask　for；〃　Brewster　told　him　later。
　〃No　skiing？〃
　〃The　weather's　not　right　here。　We　send　our　people　who　want　to　learn　to　the　Big　Boulder　Ski　School　at　Lake　Harmony。　They　teach　natur　teknik；　the　best　method　of　learning。　You　learn　parallel　right　away。〃
　〃That's　nice；〃　Remo　would　say；　wondering　for　just　a　moment　if　Nils　Brewster　had　not　devised　the　most　beautiful　hustle　of　the　Twentieth　Century。
　But　that　afternoon；　it　was　chess。　A　pudgy　man　with　bulging　brown　eyes　and　flicking　wrists　was　in　an　endgame　with　a　hulk　of　a　whitehaired　man　who　hovered　over　the　board　like　a　weightlifter　preparing　himself　for　a　record　hoist。　The　pudge　was　Dr。　James　Ratchett；　the　homosexual　in　the　cape；　versus　the　Jesuit　of　the　missionary　position。
　Ratchett　spied　Remo　and　pointed　a　delicate　finger。　〃Who　is　that？〃　he　asked。　It　was　an　obvious　ploy　to　divert　Father　Boyle's　attention　away　from　the　board　because；　on　the　two　buttoned　clock；　it　was　Father　Boyle's　time　running　out。
　〃The　new　security　director；〃　whispered　Brewster。
　〃Our　new　flatfoot；〃　taunted　Ratchett。
　〃Shhhhh；〃　said　Brewster　to　Remo　before　Remo　said　anything。
　〃Are　you　Irish　like　our　deceased　Mister　McCarthy？〃
　Remo　said　nothing。　He　just　stared　at　the　board。
　Remo　had　been　taught　chess　and　did　not　like　it。　He　had　been　taught　chess；　not　for　the　intricacy　of　the　moves　nor　for　the　concentration　it　required。　He　was　taught　chess　simply　to　realize　that　each　move　changed　the　board。　It　was　something　people　tended　to　forget　in　life；　that　every　move　altered　things　in　some　way　and　that　preconceived　operations　needed　flexibility　to　be　worthwhile。　Basically；　chess　taught　Remo　how　to　look。　He　looked　now　around　the　room　and　saw　the　karate　lover；　in　clothes　this　time；　watching　closely。　Another　interested　observer　was　a　man　in　a　dark　suit　and　dark　tie；　who　Remo　found　out　later　was　the　chess　instructor。
　〃I　asked　you　a　question；　cop；〃　said　Ratchett。　〃Are　you　Irish　like　our　deceased　Mister　McCarthy？〃
　〃Shhhhh；〃　said　Brewster　angrily　to　Remo　who　was　silent。
　〃When　I　speak　to　you；　you　will　answer　me；〃　said　Ratchett；　huffing　himself　in　his　chair。　〃Answer　me。〃
　〃I　don't　think　I'm　Irish；〃　Remo　said。　It　was　a　bland　tone；　one　used　for　getting　rid　of　annoying　questions　and　questioners。
　〃You　don't　think　you're　Irish。　You　don't　think。　Don't　you　know？　After　all；　I　thought　all　Irishmen　knew　they　were　Irish。　Otherwise；　why　would　the　little　dears　all　bee　policemen　and　priests？　I'm　playing　against　a　priest；　now；　you　know。〃
　Father　Boyle　did　not　look　up；　but　moved　his　rook　from　an　inactive　corner　to　the　center　of　the　board。　Ordinarily；　it　would　not　be　a　bad　move。　But　now　it　was　a　bad　move　because　Ratchett　had　more　men　attacking　the　square　than　the　priest　had　defending。　Under　those　circumstances；　the　priest　would　succumb。
　Ratchett　was　suddenly　quiet　and　on　the　board　with　all　his　attention。　Father　Boyle　looked　over　his　shoulder　and　extended　his　hand　to　Remo。　〃Hi；　I'm　Bob　Boyle。　We're　all　a　little　bit　nuts　here。　I　think　it's　a　function　of　intelligence。〃
　〃I'm　Remo　Pelham；〃　said　Remo；　taking　the　hand。　Well；　pleasant　or　not；　the　priest　would　go　with　the　rest　if　the　word　came　down。　Remo　wasn't　a　judge；　just　an　operative。
　〃Shhhh；〃　said　Nils　Brewster。
　〃Get　off　it；　Nils；〃　said　the　priest。 …
　〃He's　not　to　disturb　anyone；〃　Brewster　snapped　back。　〃I　don't　really　like　his　presence　here　in　the　first　place。　If　we　didn't　need　federal　funding；　I　wouldn't　allow　him　on　the　premises。　You　know　how　they　are；　the　whole　fascistic　mentality。〃
　〃You're　the　biggest　fascist　I've　ever　met；　Nils。　And　also　the　worst　snob。　Now　get　off　it。〃
　Ratchett；　red　faced；　snapped　a　piece　angrily　down　on　the　board；　putting　more　pressure　on　the　imperilled　square。
　〃What　is　going　on　here。？〃　he　screamed。　〃Why　must　I　suffer　these　indignities　from　a　cop？　Everytime　I　move；　someone's　yelling。　Yelling。　Yelling；〃　Ratchett's　voice　rose　like　a　happy　hawk。　His　hands　twittered　violently。　His　fat　face　flushed。
　〃You　Irish　bastards　are　in　league　to　defeat　me。　That's　why　you're　here。　It's　a　plot…that's　all　you　Irish　are　good　for。　Why　don't　you　stop　skulking　around　trying　to　upset　me。　and　act　like　a　man？　Tell　Boyle　how　to　move。　Go　ahead。　Go　ahead。　Make　your　perfidy　plete。　Go　ahead。
　〃Look　everyone。　A　cop　is　going　to　help　Father　Boyle　play　chess。　A　cop　who　plays　chess。〃　Ratchett　laughed　out　a　haughty　condemnation　and　looked　around　for　approval。　Finding　none　in　the　onlooking　faces；　he　increased　his　vehemence。
　〃I　demand　you　tell　Father　Boyle　how　to　win。　He　can　use　your　help。　Anyone　who　believes　in　God　can　use　all　the　help　he　can　get。　Go　ahead。　Right　now。　No　protest。　There　are　two　possible　ways　he　can　win。　I　am　assuming　you　know　chess。　Father　Boyle　does　not。　Tell　him　how。〃
　It　was　the　three　months　of　peak　that　got　to　Remo；　the　three　months　of　staying　where　he　should　not　have　stayed　mentally　or　physically。　That　and　Brewster　Forum　and　these　lunatics　and　being　told　that　he　must　arrange　for　the　deaths　of　these　harmless　twits；　just　because　their　brilliance　might　lead　them　to　a　wrong　corr