js&cs.thebridge-第7部分

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　　And　then；　to　his　astonishment；　she　paused　to　read　the　label。
　　Deitz　was　stunned。　Even　his　internal　dialogue　dried　up　for　a　moment。　Not　another　single　person；　in　the　whole　time　he'd　been　waiting；　had　bothered　to　so　much　as　think　about　what　they　were　putting　in　their　mouths。　It　privately　pleased　him；　surprisingly　so；　that　the　black　sheep　would　prove　to　be　the　only　one　aware。
　　For　a　second；　he　entertained　the　notion　that　she　was　just　reading　the　brand　name。　But　no。　She　twisted　the　thing　slowly　between　her　fingers；　like　a　volume　knob；　while　her　lips　silently　moved　in　accordance　with　the　list　of　ingredients　ribboned　around　the　label's　edge：　contains　water；　salt；　partially　hydrogenated　soybean　oil　。。。
　　When　she　smiled　and　struggled　with　the　pronunciation　of　sodium　stearoyl　lactylate；　he　could　restrain　himself　no　longer。
　　〃It's　poison；〃　he　said；　stepping　a　little　closer。
　　She　looked　up；　annoyed；　and　her　sneer　instantaneously　sucked　wind　from　his　cheerful　sails。　〃What　。。。　？〃　she　said。　The　addendum　you　cretin　was　unspoken。
　　〃Um　。。。　〃　Feeling　suddenly；　horribly　foolish。　〃All　that　stuff。　Sodium　stearoyl　lactylate。　Monoglycerides。　Dipotassium　phosphate。〃　He　shrugged。　Her　gaze　upon　him　was　utterly　frank；　not　giving　him　an　inch。
　　〃You　know　。。。　〃　he　concluded；　and　let　his　voice　trail　off。
　　〃Yeah；　well。〃　For　a　moment；　she　seemed　uncertain　whether　to　be　civil　or　not。　〃Not　that　it's　really　gonna　make　a　fuckin'　bit　of　difference；　right？〃　Cocking　her　head　and　watching　his　reaction　very　closely。
　　〃Well；　uh　。。。　〃　he　began。
　　And　then；　just　as　suddenly；　started　to　laugh。
　　〃Well；　actually；　no；〃　he　concluded。　It　was　as　if　some　tiny　but　significant　weight　had　been　lifted　off　his　shoulders。　〃Not　even　a　little。〃
　　She　smiled；　then；　and　in　that　moment；　their　shared　awareness　made　them　members　of　a　very　exclusive　club。
　　In　that　moment；　they　understood　each　other　pletely。
　　Then　she　set　the　nondairy　creamer　aside；　picked　up　her　cup；　and　headed　back　to　take　her　place　in　line。
　　Deitz　watched　her　go；　and　thought　of　Jennie。　Would　she　have　understood？　He　suspected　she　would　have；　but　he　couldn't　be　sure；　you　never　knew　what　was　under　that　kind　of　an　optimistic　demeanor。　A　lot　of　insecurities　and　un…voiced　fears　could　thrive；　hidden；　beneath　that　kind　of　warmth；　a　lot　of　stubborn　refusal　to　acknowledge　the　ugly　facts　of　life　。。。
　　〃Wait　a　second；〃　he　scolded；　catching　himself　for　the　second　time　today。　〃You　promised；　remember？　Today；　nothing　gets　to　you。
　　〃Today；　you're　the　happiest　man　on　earth。〃
　　And；　of　course；　it　was　true。
　　But　some　things　were　far　easier　said　than　done。
　　
　　
　　　Seven
　　　
　　Ah；　the　power　of　faith。
　　Werner　Blake　loved　his　front…row　seat　at　Trinity　Lutheran　Church。　It　was　a　great　place　for　people…watching；　and　Blake　was　a　people　person。　He'd　held　this　pew　every　Sunday　for　ten　years　running；　watching　the　sacramental　conveyor　belt　deliver　its　wine…and…wafer　fix　to　the　herd。
　　So　far　as　he　was　concerned；　there　was　no　finer　place　on　Earth。
　　Take　this　ritual；　for　example；　and　the　principle　that　powered　it。　Transubstantiation；　they　called　it；　though　he　doubted　if　more　than　three　people　in　the　entire　synod　could　spell　the　word；　much　less　grasp　an　inkling　of　its　actual　intent。
　　Transubstantiation　was　really　quite　the　little　miracle：　the　mystical　transformation　of　flour　and　grape　juice　into　not　just　symbols　of　the　Eucharist；　but　the　actual　flesh　and　blood　itself。　Eternal　Life；　breathed　into　inanimate　glop　by　the　kiss　of　God。　Kinda　like　the　ultimate　parlor　trick。
　　There　was　something　perversely　cannibalistic　about　the　whole　thing；　too；　but　then；　what　did　you　expect　from　the　world's　most　successful；　longest…running　blood　cult？
　　What　the　hell；　Blake　mused；　nodding　and　smiling　as　the　parishioners　filed　past。　Name　of　the　game。　Keeps　'em　in'　back　for　more。
　　Werner　Blake　was　a　dapper；　distinguished　man；　in　his　fifties　and　his　prime。　He　was　head　of　the　Paradise　Industrial　Development　Authority；　pointman　for　Paradise　Emergency　Management　Agency；　general　solid　citizen；　and　all…around　pillar　of　the　munity。　He　was　directly　responsible　for　courting　out…of…state　industry　to　move　into　the　area；　thus　bringing　jobs　and　opportunity　to　thousands　across　the　county。　His　connections　were　many。　He　belonged　to　the　Chamber　of　merce　and　the　Jaycees；　had　a　wife　and　son　and　a　house　in　Wyndham　Hills；　and　kept　a　sophomore　ski　bunny　in　a　condo　at　Cedar　Village。　He　played　tennis　for　fitness；　piloted　light　aircraft　and　skied　for　fun。　He　ate　well；　drank　in　moderation；　and　slept　soundly　at　night。
　　And　every　Sunday…without　fail…he　donned　the　wool　and　grazed　with　the　flock；　holding　his　wife's　hand　and　staring　with　clear…eyed　purpose　into　the　vaulted　chapel　arches。　That　he　looked　at　the　huge　suspended　cross　and　saw　only　sticks　and　brass　and　plaster　mattered　not　at　all。
　　Because　they　saw　something。　They　believed　it；　even　if　they　didn't　see　it。　And　even　if　they　didn't　see　it　or　believe　it；　they　came　anyway。　That　was　the　real　beauty　of　the　game。　They　came　for　the　same　reasons　they　believed。
　　Because　they　were　supposed　to。
　　Nodding　and　smiling；　as　the　parishioners　filed　past　。。。
　　There　was　power　here；　Werner　knew；　in　all　that　blind　faith　and　obedience。　It　could　be　harnessed；　like　any　other　natural　resource。　To　Blake's　way　of　thinking；　that's　what　it　was　there　for。　And　Trinity　Lutheran　was　a　money　congregation；　a　fount　for　the　local　Brahmins；　which　meant　that　seeds　planted　on　Sunday　often　bore　fruit　before　the　end　of　business　Friday　next。
　　That　was　miracle　enough　for　him。
　　Still；　by　the　end　of　services；　Werner　Blake　had　probed　the　outer　limits　of　his　civility。　You　could　only　graze　so　long　with　sheep；　after　all；　before　the　clothing　became　oppressive；　the　smile　a　bit　cramped　and　the　eyes　a　bit　too　hard。
　　So　when　Leonard　leaned　over　from　the　next　pew　back；　Blake　almost　weled　the　diversion。
　　〃Mornin〃；　Harry；〃　he　whispered。　〃What's　up？〃
　　〃Well；　uh；〃　Harold　began　and　then　stalled；　eyes　searching　the　shadows　in　the　far　ers　of　the　chapel。　Up　close　now；　Blake　could　smell　the　tang　of　his　sweat。
　　〃Is　there　a　problem？〃　Blake's　psyche　clicked　calmly　over　to　yellow　alert。
　　〃I　think　so。　Yes。〃　Leonard　exhaled　hard。
　　〃Can　it　wait？〃
　　A　moment　of　silence。
　　〃Okay。〃　Blake　leaned　over；　bussed　his　wife　lightly　on　the　cheek。　〃Excuse　us；〃　he　whispered。　Carol　Blake　was　attractive；　raven…haired　and　tight；　well　maintained；　thirty…nine　and　holding。　She　nodded；　disinterested；　as　Blake　slid　by。　The　space　next　to　her　that　was　for　their　son　was　conspicuously　empty；　Blake　eased　past　it　and　into　the　aisle　with　a　little　grin　that　was　polished　and　carefully　maintained。
　　Then　Blake　was　up　and　moving　against　the　worshipful　tide；　nodding　and　smiling　as　he　met　the　gaze　of　all　those　eyes；　the　many　faces　of　the　flock；　nodding　and　smiling　and　slipping　through　them　with　practiced　grace　and　predatory　ease。
　　He　didn't　look　behind　to　see　if　Leonard　was　following。　Of　course　Leonard　was　following。　What　else　could　Leonards　do？　You　rose　or　fell　by　your　own　merits；　your　own　intrinsic　worth。
　　Blake　knew　what　Leonard　was　made　of。　Food。　But　it　wasn't　as　simple　as　that。　If　there　was　a　problem；　and　Leonard　could　help；　it　would　be　best　to　hear　him　out。
　　In　private。
　　
　　〃Now；〃　Blake　said。　The　chapel　burst　into　muted　song。　It　was　quiet　in　the　pastor's　office；　and　nobody　else　was　there。　〃You　were　saying。〃
　　〃I　got　a　phone　call　this　morning。〃　Leonard　dry…swallowed　as　he　spoke。　〃From　a　man　I；　um；　subcontract。〃
　　Blake　nodded。
　　〃And；　um；　he　told　me　that　an　accident　or　something　happened。〃
　　Blake　waited。
　　〃This　morning。〃　Blake's　silences　were　frightening。　Leonard　picked　up　his　pace。　〃It　was　something　about　a　truck。　These　people　。。。　uh；　their　boys；　they　were　disposing　of　some　substances　。。。　〃
　　〃What　kind　of　substances？〃
　　〃Um　。。。　〃　Beat。　〃Not　very　good　substances。〃　Leonard　let　out　a　short　hack　of　laughter；　as　if　it　were　funny。　〃They　were　disposing　of　some　waste…some　overstock…when　evidently　something　went　wrong。〃
　　〃What　kind　of　waste　。。。　？〃
　　〃Christ；　Werner！　I'm　not　exactly　sure！　It's　all　pretty　bad；　okay？〃　Leonard's　face　flushed　red；　and　for　one　split　second；　it　occurred　to　him　that　he'd　just　taken　his　life　in　his　hands　and　held　it　up　like　a　bull's…eye　on　a　stick。
　　The　Blake　made　a　sympathetic　face；　and　Leonard　resumed。
　　〃You　know　we　handle　a　lot　of　stuff。〃　He　sighed。　Blake　nodded；　encouraging。　〃Most　of　it　is　pretty　benign；　but　none　of　it　is　meant　for　public　consumption。　The　point　is；　these　guys　told　me　that　they've　been　disposing　of　it　in　a　responsible　fashion；　but　then　today　I　get　a　phone　call　。。。　〃
　　Blake　was　absolutely　motionless；　watching。
　　〃　。。。　telling　me　that　these　guys　have　been　dumping　。。。　Christ；　I　don't　know　bow　to　say　this　。。。　〃
　　〃Just　say　it。〃
　　〃Christ！〃　Oily　beads　of　perspiration　welled　on　his　fore　head；　made　armpit…inkblot　configurations　that　met　in　the　middle　of　his　back。　〃They　were　dumping　straight　into　the　Codorus　Creek；　okay？　Straight　into　the　Codorus；　which　runs　straight　into　the　Susquehanna　River；　which　runs　straight　into　God　knows　where！〃
　　〃Calm　down。〃　Blake　said　it　as　much　to　himself　as　to　Leonard。　He　was　running　the　facts　through　his　mind。
　　〃I'm　trying　to　be　calm；　but　frankly；　this　is　scaring　me　out　of　my　wits！〃　Leonard　railed；　hearing　himself　lose　control　and　trying　to　stop　it　and　watching　it　go。　〃One　boy　is　dead　already　。。。　〃
　　〃Ah。〃　The　ante　burgeoned。　Blake　brought　a　finger　up；　touched　it　to　pursed　lips。
　　〃　。。。　and　another　boy　is　all　messed　up；　I　think　he　might　be　poisoned　or　something　。。。　〃
　　〃Okay。〃　Blake　withdrew　his　finger；　made　a　pacifying　gesture　that　he　aimed　at　Leonard。　〃Are　those　the　only　two　involved？〃
　　Leonard　stammered；　his　word　flow　unexpectedly　dammed。　〃I　。。。　I　think　so。　Yes。　Except　for　their　father。　Well；　one　of　their　fathers　。。。　〃
　　〃And　he　is？〃
　　〃His　name's　Pusser。　He　runs　a　salvage　yard　outside　of　Hellam　…〃
　　〃What　I　need；〃　Blake　interrupted；　〃is　precise　information。　Names　and　addresses。　Do　you　know　where　the　accident　happened？〃
　　〃Have　you　ever　heard　of　a　place　called　Black　Bridge？〃
　　〃No。　But　I'm　sure　somebody　has。　What　I　need　from　you〃…and