el.the miko-第110部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Nicholas　stopped　him。　〃What　are　these　for？〃
　〃Bamboo　groves　all　around　here；〃　Russilov　said　sullenly。　〃Farmers　used　to　store　and　age　these　here。　The　aluminum　ones　were　for　anchoring　fledgling　stands　against　the　winter　winds。〃
　〃Take　two；〃　Nicholas　ordered。　And　when　Russilov　did　so；　said；　〃No；　the　bamboo　poles。〃
　On　the　roof　Nicholas　manded　the　Russian　to　strip；　ordering　him　to　spread　out　each　item　on　the　stones。　In　the　meantime；　employing　Russilov's　knife；　he　cut　the　bamboo　poles　in　half。　Then　he　set　about　cutting　off　the　arms　of　the　lieutenant's　blouse　and　jacket。　He　cut　his　trousers　in　two；　took　the　laces　from　the　boots。
　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　Russilov　asked；　huddled　naked　in　a　corner。
　Nicholas　said　nothing。　He　sliced　the　Russian's　heavy　leather　belt　into　four　long　strips。　Using　these　and　the　boot　laces；　he　set　to　work　constructing　his　scaffolding。　Then　he　attached　the　pieces　of　cloth。　He　worked　with　the　loving　concentration　of　a　father　constructing　his　child's　first　kite。
　What　in　fact　he　had　made　was　a　hito　washi；　what　some　ninja　called　〃the　human　eagle。〃　It　was　a　makeshift　glider。
　When　he　was　finished　he　walked　back　to　where　Russilov　knelt。　Stripped　of　his　uniform；　his　rank；　he　seemed　to　have　shrunk　in　size。　Like　many　military　men；　he　very　nearly　had　ceased　to　exist　without　the　armor　of　his　mand。
　〃Good…bye；　Russilov；〃　Nicholas　said；　bending　down　and　touching　the　juka；　one　of　the　kyukon；　the　nine　organ　meridians。　This　one　was　just　beneath　the　ears。　Russilov　immediately　collapsed；　unconscious。
　Then　Nicholas　mounted　the　hito　washi。　There　was　a　fair　wind　blowing　from　the　southwest；　gusty　and　unpredictable。　He　shrugged　mentally。　Karma。　He　was　enormously　tired　and　he　wanted　to　sleep　badly。　Soon；　he　thought。　Be　careful　now。
　He　mounted　the　stone　parapet。　There　was　no　moon　and　his　chronometer　had　been　taken　from　him。　It　was　deep　into　the　night；　the　early　hours　of　morning。　It　was　not　yet　that　peculiar　time　of　predawn　when　a　special　tinge　of　nameless　color　es　into　the　world；　but　he　did　not　know　how　long　dawn　would　be　in　arriving。
　Two　good　gusts　came　while　he　was　still　working　out　the　vectors。　Then；　as　he　set　himself；　the　wind　died　to　a　tickle　on　his　face。　e　on；　he　thought。　e　on！
　His　hair　began　to　ruffle；　he　felt　the　temperature　drop　on　his　bruised　and　purpled　skin。　Strengthening。　Such　an　ephemeral　thing；　you　could　not　even　see　it。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　felt　it。
　And　when　his　body　told　him　it　was　time；　he　used　the　powerful　muscles　in　his　legs　to　launch　himself　into　the　dark；　dark　void。　Spinning　for　a　moment；　plummeting。　Then　he　corrected　and　caught　a　substantial　updraft。
　Soared　into　the　night　like　a　bat。
　Akiko　picked　Koten　up　at　the　rotenburo　and　followed　him　out　of　there。　He　had　arrived　emptyhanded　and　he　left　with　a　long；　polished　wood　case。　To　Akiko；　whose　eyes　were　trained　for　such　things；　it　appeared　to　be　a　weapon's　case。　Judging　by　its　length　it　could　contain　nothing　but　a　dai…katana；　the　longest　of　all　the　samurai　swords。
　Deep　in　the　shadows；　she　stiffened。　Koten　had　passed　through　a　squat　ellipse　of　lantern　light　and　she　had　gotten　a　good　look　at　the　case。　It　was　the　same　one　she　had　seen　open　in　the　garden　between　Nicholas　and　her　husband。　Koten　had　Nicholas'　sword！
　Car　followed　car。　But　because　there　was　little　traffic　this　late　at　night　Akiko　was　forced　to　douse　her　headlights；　using　peripheral　illumination；　as　well　as　the　twin　ruby　taillights　of　Koten's　car；　to　aid　her。　Once　or　twice；　when　the　road　wound　up　a　hillside；　she　thought　she　had　lost　him。　But　each　time　as　she　crested；　the　lights　reappeared。
　This　was　farm　country…very　rural…and　she　had　to　be　careful　not　to　be　spotted。　But　the　sky's　darkness　that　hindered　her　also　aided　her　for　it　made　Koten's　vision　behind　him　that　much　more　difficult。
　Not　more　than　thirty　minutes　after　they　left　the　rotenburo；　Koten's　car　abruptly　slowed；　turning　left　onto　a　hardpacked　dirt　lane　that　immediately　disappeared　in　underbrush。
　Akiko　quickly　pulled　onto　the　side　of　the　road　and　got　out；　following　on　foot；　she　could　not　chance　taking　her　own　car　in　there…the　noise　alone　could　alert　her　quarry。
　Because　of　the　narrow；　twisting　nature　of　the　path　she　had　no　difficulty　in　keeping　Koten　in　sight。　In　a　small　clearing　bordered　by　great　stands　of　whispering　bamboo；　he　drew　up。　Men　were　all　about　and　she　was　close　enough　to　hear　what　they　were　saying。　Nicholas　had　escaped！
　But　what　of　Sato？　She　had　not　been　at　the　rotenburo　for　long　enough　to　find　out　anything　of　substance　other　than　that　a　man…　apparently　a　patron…had　been　killed　in　a　mysterious　auto　explosion。　Who？
　She　did　not　know。　Koten　had　e；　distracting　her；　but　even　so　she　would　not　have　been　able　to　ask　questions　without　arousing　suspicion。　Japanese　society　was　extremely　clannish。　There　was　a　fierce　munity　spirit。　She　did　not　belong　here；　a　stranger　asking　questions　about　what　might　easily　be　a　murder…what　was　in　any　case　an　unexplained　death…would　be　noted　and　the　local　police　notified。　Akiko　could　not　afford　such　scrutiny。
　But　now　she　had　to　wonder。　They　had　spoken　only　of　Nicholas。　Not　one　word　was　spoken　of　Sato；　his　name　simply　never　came　up。
　To　Akiko　this　led　to　one　inescapable　conclusion：　Sato　was　dead。　Perhaps　it　had　been　he　who　had　died　in　the　car　explosion；　or　again　perhaps　he　had　died　here　at　this　forested　place。　It　did　not　matter；　part　of　her　revenge　had　been　taken　care　of　for　her。　That　did　not　make　her　particularly　happy…she　would　have　preferred　to　exact　her　own　vengeance…but　she　resigned　herself　to　the　reality　of　the　situation。
　Nicholas　was　now　her　target。　She　turned　away　from　the　edge　of　the　clearing；　beginning　to　quarter　the　area　immediately　surrounding　the　clearing　and　its　central　building　which　looked　so　much　like　a　barn　but　which　she　was　certain　was　not。
　At　length；　to　the　southwest；　she　found　the　remnants　of　the　hito　washi。　She　hunkered　down；　fingering　it；　admiring　the　workmanship。　She　laughed　low　in　her　throat。　Then　she　set　off　after　him。
　Of　course　Alix　had　tried　to　stop　him。　She　had　called　him　everything　from　a　madman　to　a　moron；　she　had　even　cried　and；　at　the　end；　begged　him　not　to　go。
　By　all　this　Croaker　surmised　that　she　was　genuinely　afraid　for　him。　But　he　was　not　at　all　sure。　After　all；　she　was　a　consummate　actress；　making　love　to　the　camera　every　day　when　she　worked。　She　could　turn　on　or　off　any　emotion　as　easily　as　she　applied　mascara　each　morning　and　wiped　it　away　at　night。
　But　then　it　occurred　to　him　that　she　had　no　earthly　reason　to　act　in　this　case。　What　would　she　get　out　of　deterring　him　from　flying　off　to　Washington　besides　seeing　him　safe？　She　knew　full　well　who　it　was　who　had　tried　to　kill　him　or　at　least　who　had　ordered　it。　The　same　person　who　had　now　contracted　for　both　their　deaths；　breaking　his　oath　to　her。
　C。　Gordon　Minck；　the　man　before　whom　Croaker　now　stood。
　〃Where　the　hell　are　we；〃　he　said　looking　around　at　the　leafy　patio；　〃the　goddamned　African　veldt？〃　He　did　not　like　the　edge　to　his　voice。　But　he　was　frightened；　not　only　of　this　man　and　the　power　he　wielded　to　cut　off　pursuit；　to　twist　the　law　to　his　own　design；　but　also　of　what　he　himself　was　thinking　of　doing　to　Minck。
　Minck　contrived　to　laugh　and　Croaker　glared　at　him；　his　tightly　controlled　emotions　flaring。　〃I　ought　to　kill　you　right　here　with　my　bare　hands；〃　he　said　low　in　his　throat。
　Minck　was　still　trying　to　recover　from　seeing　a　man　standing　next　to　him　who　up　until　just　a　moment　ago　he　believed　dead　and　buried　at　sea。　He　put　one　hand　tentatively　up　to　his　temple；　as　if　with　that　gesture　he　could　press　away　the　pain　that　now　throbbed　there　like　a　traitor。
　〃You've　got　to　get　a　grip　on　yourself；　Lieutenant。〃　It　was　the　best　he　could　do　for　the　moment；　he　needed　some　time　to　marshal　both　his　emotions　and　his　thoughts。　This　day　was　rapidly　turning　into　one　of　the　worst　in　his　life　and　he　was　determined　to　give　his　full　attention　to　it　lest　matters　deteriorate　even　further。　He　gestured。　〃Please　sit　down。〃
　〃Which　one　of　these　chairs　is　mined？〃　Croaker　said　with　a　sneer。
　〃Just　what's　that　supposed　to　mean？〃　Minck　said　despite　himself。　He　had　promised　himself　that　he　would　not　vie　with　Lieutenant　Croaker　on　his　own　base　ground。　But　the　pain　in　his　head　was　unsettling　him。
　〃You've　tried　to　kill　me　three　times；　you've　tried　to　kill　Alix　Logan　twice。　What　else　would　you　expect　me　to　say　walking　in　here？〃
　Minck　sat　heavily　down。　He　groaned　inwardly　as　the　pain　increased。　His　heart　rate　was　accelerating。　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃　His　voice　was　a　trifle　shaky；　his　face　pasty　beneath　his　rich　tan。　It　was　only　now　that　the　true　gravity　of　the　situation　was　beginning　to　dawn　on　him。　Croaker's　expressed　threat　echoed　in　his　mind　like　a　taunt。　How　had　he　managed　to　miss　this　tinkering？
　Croaker；　observing　all　this；　was　curious。　The　edge　of　his　anger　had　dulled。　〃Alix　and　I　were　pursued　out　of　Key　West。　Once　in　Raleigh；　North　Carolina；　and　once　in　New　York　City；　we　were　attacked。　That's　attempted　murder；　Minck。〃
　Minck　shook　his　head。　〃I　don't　understand　this；〃　he　said　to　no　one　in　particular。　〃I　never　sanctioned　Alix's　death。〃　He　looked　up；　as　if　abruptly　aware　of　Croaker's　presence。　〃I　would　never　do　that。　I　told　her　I　wouldn't。　You　must　believe　me。〃
　Words；　as　Croaker　knew　well；　were　cheap。　But　there　was　something　in　Minck's　eyes；　a　kind　of　pleading；　that　caught　him。　He　saw　that　somehow　Minck；　who　through　Alix's　eyes　he　had　e　to　see　as　a　master　spider　spinning　his　unbreakable　web　from　the　absolute　sanctity　of　the　nation's　capital；　was　enmeshed　in　a　gray　area　just　as　he　himself　was。　Suddenly　they　were　both　lost；　both　confused　as　to　which　direction　was　up；　who　was　good；　who　bad。　In　that　moment；　their　adversary　position　had　somehow　been　dissipated。　For　the　first　time　since　he　had　entered　Angela　Didion's　plush　apartment　and　found　her　naked　body　as　cold　as　ice；　Croaker　began　to　see　that　there　was　more　here　than　one　model's　murder。　Much　more。　〃Then　who　did？〃　he　said　gruffly。
　And　Minck　was　forced　to　another　inescapable　conclusion。　To　whom　had　he　given　over　custody　of　Alix？　Who　had　he　entrusted　to　keep　her　safe　from　all　harm？　Tanya　Vladimova；　that's　who。　The　same　Tanya　who　had　been　gone　from　the　building…God　only　knew　where…for　the　last　forty　ho