el.the miko-第33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！


　〃One　of　the　reasons　I　am　here　is　that　I　am　sennin　in　a　number　of　these。　Have　you　heard　of　Kuji…kiri；　the　nine…hands　cutting？〃
　Nicholas　might　have　stopped　breathing。　Kuji…kiri　was　the　discipline　with　which　Saigo　had　defeated　him　in　Kumamoto　the　year　before；　defiling　him　and　taking　Yukio　away　from　him；　then　disappearing　with　her　as　if　the　two　of　them　had　never　existed。
　His　lips　were　dry　and　he　had　to　try　twice　before　he　could　articulate　it　successfully。　〃Yes。〃　It　was　a　harsh　sibilant　whisper。　〃I　have。。。　heard　of　it。〃
　Akutagawa…san　nodded。　He　was　careful　not　to　look　directly　at　Nicholas　and　thus　be　exposed　to　the　inner　struggle　of　emotions；　causing　his　student　loss　of　face。
　〃Fukashigi…san　suspected　as　much。　He　believes　you　may　need　this；　er；　unorthodox　training　in　order　to　survive。　And　survival　is　what　is　taught　here　at　the　Tenshin　Shoden　Katori　ryu。〃
　Akutagawa…san's　head　turned；　hawklike；　and　his　obsidian　eyes　struck　Nicholas　with　the　force　of　a　physical　contact。　It　was　not　a　blow　as　such；　but　the　electricity　of　the　force　behind　it　caused　all　of　Nicholas'　muscles　to　tense；　the　reflex　of　a　more　primitive　and　physically　aware　creature。
　Oddly；　his　mind　was　at　peace；　perfectly　clear　for　the　first　time　since　he　had　returned　from　his　journey　across　the　Straits　of　Shi…monoseki；　his　river　Styx；　to　seek　out　Saigo　in　the　underworld　of　Kan…aku　na　ninjutsu。
　Akutagawa…san　smiled　slightly。　〃There　are　many　Chinese　origins　here。　But　you　know　the　Japanese。　Everything　must　be　altered；　refined　to　fit　their　own　cultured　sensibilities。〃　This　would　be　the　only　time　that　the　sennin　would　ever　speak　this　way　to　Nicholas　or　to　anyone；　a　sign　that　he　recognized　their　kinship：　their　mixed　heritage。
　〃You　now　know　the　dangers；　the　risks。　Fukashigi…san　was　quite　adamant　about　giving　you　these　caveats。〃
　〃And　you　were　not；〃　Nicholas　said；　responding　to　an　ephemeral　shading　in　the　sennin's　tone。
　〃Do　not　think　that　I　am　not　careful。　Fukashigi…san　and　I　think　alike　in　many　aspects。　However；　I　did　not　believe　you　required　these　warnings。〃
　〃You　were　correct。〃　Nicholas　took　a　deep　breath。　〃I　want　you　to　teach　me；　sensei。　I　am　not　frightened　of　the　Kuji…kiri。〃
　〃No；〃　Akutagawa…san　said　almost　sadly；　〃but　in　time　you　will　learn　to　be。〃　He　reached　out　and　took　Nicholas〃　hand。　〃Now　e。〃　His　voice　altered。　〃Let　darkness　and　death　be　your　middle　names　forevermore。〃
　They　went　off　the　hillside。　Soon　the　mist　had　swallowed　them　pletely。
　The　monsters　had　needed　designations。　They　were　never　with　Alix　Logan　at　the　same　time　but　rather　spelled　each　other　in　twelve…hour　shifts。　The　beefy　one　was　on　duty　during　the　days　and　Bristol　thought　of　him　as　Red。　The　other　one；　the　thin；　wiry；　nocturnal　monster　with　the　long　neck　and　beak　of　a　nose；　he　dubbed　Blue。
　The　first　question　he　had　asked　himself　when　he　had　e　upon　them　was：　had　they　been　in　the　car？
　It　had　been　many　months　since　that　dark　night　filled　with　rain　and　an　evil　wind　that　bent　the　high；　thin　palms　of　Key　West　almost　to　the　ground。　He　had　been　doing　forty…five　on　the　highway　when　they　came　up　on　him　very　fast　with　their　lights　out。
　He　felt　the　fierce　jolt　forward；　said；　〃What　the　hell！〃　to　no　one　in　particular　and　felt　grateful　for　his　seatbelt。　They　were　close；　and　knowing　that　instinctively　his　eyes　would　move　to　his　rear…view　mirror　after　the　ram；　they　turned　on　their　blights。
　In　that　moment　of　utter　dazzle；　they　moved　in　for　the　kill。　He　knew　in　that　flash　just　how　clever　they　were；　knew　also　from　his　years　of　experience　that　there　would　not　be　time　to　regain　control　of　the　situation：　he　was　not　James　Bond　and　this　was　no　movie。　So　he　did　the　only　thing　he　could。　He　concentrated　on　his　own　survival。
　In　the　brief　instant　before　they　struck　again；　he　unlocked　the　driver's　side　door　and　opened　it　a　crack。　He　unsnapped　his　seatbelt。　He　was　no　longer　concerned　with　what　they　would　do　or　how　they　would　do　it；　he　only　knew　that　if　he　did　not　center　all　his　concern　on　himself　now；　they　would　surely　kill　him。
　When　the　second　ram　came；　it　was　at　just　the　right　angle。　They　had　hesitated　long　enough　so　that　both　cars　were　racing　around　a　bend　to　the　right。　Beyond　the　low　fence　on　the　left；　the　land　shot　down　in　a　sheer　drop　of　perhaps　seventy…five　feet。　The　ground　was　not　particularly　hard。　In　fact；　the　recent　rains　had　made　a　rather　springy　mat　of　it　but　there　was　very　little　purchase。　It　was　a　dangerous　stretch；　particularly　in　this　storm；　and　every　ten　feet　or　so　along　the　side　of　the　road　large　signs　dotted　with　ruby　red　reflector　buttons　flew　by。
　It　was　as　if　an　enormous　creature　had　taken　a　bite　out　of　the　car。　The　back　end　slewed　right　around　and　the　wheel　flew　out　of　his　hands。　He　let　it　go；　working　on　keeping　his　equilibrium。　Centrifugal　force　and　the　colliding　momentums　of　the　vehicles　were　working　against　him；　and　the　darkness　of　the　night　only　added　to　the　sense　of　intense　disorientation。
　His　hand　flew　to　the　partially　open　door　and　he　had　to　will　himself　to　stay　put　through　the　horrendous　sounds　of　grinding　and　squealing　metal；　the　frightening；　out…of…control　movement；　and　the　sure　knowledge　that　he　was　heading　over　the　edge　and　down。
　If　he　left　the　car　before　it　went　over；　there'd　be　no　point。　The　other　car's　headlights　would　pick　him　up　and　they'd　run　him　over　while　he　was　helpless。
　But　now　the　front　end　of　the　car　had　slammed　into　the　low　railing；　the　shriek　of　more　metal　tearing；　flinging　itself　upward；　bursting　apart；　and　he　lurched　forward；　having　to　brace　the　heels　of　his　hands　against　the　padded　dash；　remembering　to　flex　his　elbows　slightly　to　help　cushion　the　force　so　that　he　wouldn't　break　his　arms　in　half。
　Then　the　nose　of　the　car　was　thrusting　upward；　the　seat　springs　rocking　crazily。　Rain　sleeted　in　the　partially　open　window　drenching　him；　blinding　him；　and　for　that　instant　he　felt　a　rising　panic；　afraid　that　they　were　going　to　succeed　after　all。
　The　car　bucked　forward　as　if　kicked　from　behind；　the　front　end　lowering；　the　wheels　spinning　for　purchase　and　finding　none。　He　had　long　ago　taken　his　foot　off　both　the　gas　and　the　brake　pedals。　He　left　the　car　in　gear；　though　it　might　have　been　better　to　throw　it　into　neutral。　He　did　not　want　to　leave　any　traces　of　how　he　was　going　about　saving　himself；　to　feed　to　the　investigators　who　would　surely　e　and　do　their　thorough　job　if　the　sea　didn't　claim　his　coffin。
　He　wanted　to　be　dead。
　Now　he　began　to　tumble；　leaving　behind　the　short　verge　beyond　the　slick　road。　He　heard　the　tearing　of　clods　of　earth　above　the　noise　of　the　engine　and　the　car's　back　wheels　skidded　sickeningly；　slewing　him　again　so　that　his　shoulder　slammed　against　the　door　post　and　he　sucked　in　his　breath。　Another　inch　or　so　forward　and　he　would　have　tumbled　out　the　unlocked　door　on　his　head。　All　the　way　down；　a　broken　neck　and　sightless　eyes　staring　impotently　up　at　the　white；　peering　faces　of　his　murderers。
　None　of　that　for　him。　He　held　on；　and　now　there　was　only　an　eerie　kind　of　silence；　rushing　in　the　aftermath　of　all　the　frenzy　and　sound。　Wind　whistled　through　the　partially　opened　window　and　then　the　car　took　its　first　unsteady　bump　on　the　side　of　the　sheer　cliff。　One　side　hit　heavier　than　the　other；　and　that　started　the　oscillation。　Soon；　he　knew；　it　would　get　so　great…on　the　fourth　or　fifth　landing　perhaps…that　the　vehicle　would　flip　over　and　then　he　would　have　no　chance　at　all。
　He　could　see　nothing　that　would　help　him。　He　was　in　the　tunnel　of　the　night；　a　steel　coffin；　and　he　knew　he　must　rely　totally　on　sensation；　the　feeling　in　his　stomach；　his　hands；　his　legs；　his　heart。
　It　was　now　or　never。
　He　drew　his　legs　up　so　that　he　was　kneeling　on　the　seat；　so　that　there　was　no　possibility　that　his　feet　would　get　caught　in　the　well。　Quickly　now　he　moved　onto　his　back；　feet　first　toward　the　swinging　door。
　Out　he　went。　Watched　dizzily；　detachedly；　the　shock　and　pain　turning　him　into　an　unconcerned　spectator；　as　the　tumbling　car　hit　the　churning　water　hood　first　and　sank　into　the　deep　without　a　trace。
　Bristol　did　not　think　much　about　that　night　now　except　to　speculate　on　who　it　was　who'd　tried　to　kill　him。　At　first　he　was　certain　that　it　had　been　Frank；　Raphael　Tomkin's　man。　But　that　was　before　he　had　e　upon　the　monsters。　Now　he　was　not　so　sure。
　He　had　e　down　to　Key　West　to　find　Alix　Logan。　Now　that　he　had　found　that　she　was　already　covered；　he　wondered；　Who　were　they；　these　monsters　who　never　let　her　out　of　then…　sight？　Were　they　working　for　Tomkin？　Were　they　all　part　of　the　cover…up　of　Tomkin's　murder　of　Angela　Didion？　There　was　no　way　Bristol　could　know　that　until　he　spoke　to　Alix　Logan。　Back　in　New　York；　Matty　the　Mouth　had　given　him　her　name。　Bristol　had　known　there　had　been　a　witness　to　the　murder　and　if　he　was　going　to　nail　Tomkin；　he　would　have　to　find　her。　The　contact　had　given　him　the　name　and　the　place　for　an　unconscionably　large　amount　of　money。　But　it　had　been　worth　it。　Now　Bristol　knew　he　was　very　close；　and　he　had　told　Matty　the　Mouth　to　get　out　of　town　for　a　while。　He　owed　the　man　that　much。
　Down　in　Key　West；　after　his　supposed　death；　after　he　had　recovered　from　the　fractured　arm；　he　had　set　himself　up　on　watch。　He　had　plenty　of　idle　time　when　he　had　nothing　to　do　but　wait。　Movement　or　stillness。　Dark　and　light。　They　were　all　that　existed　for　him。　And　Alix　Logan。
　Staring　at　her　often　brought　the　thought　of　Gelda　to　mind　but　that　was；　of　course；　pointless。　He　could　not　contact　her　in　any　way。　He　must　remain　dead　in　order　to　stay　buried　near　Alix　Logan；　undetected　and　unmolested。　It　was　a　difficult　enough　task　to　shadow　someone；　it　was　all　but　impossible　to　do　it　when　someone　was　trying　to　ice　you。
　Bristol。　How　may　times　during　those　long；　cramped　hours　of　waiting　had　he　worked　the　name　around　on　his　tongue。　His　real　name　had　faded　out；　an　image　in　an　old　and　bleached　photo　album　that　was　long　ago　and　far　away。
　He　had　bee　〃Tex〃　Bristol　and　that　was　how　he　thought　of　himself　now；　just　as　everyone　around　him　who　knew　him　did。　There　was　only　one　person　in　the　world　who　knew　he　had　not　died　in　the　flaming　car　crash　that　night　and　she　would　never　tell。　He　had　had　just　enough　money　left　to　get　him　up　to　San　Antonio。　He　had　known　Marie　a　long　time　ago　in　New　York。　They　had　been　on　opposite　sid