el.the miko-第35部分

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　In　a　way　Protorov　felt　sorry　for　the　man　as　he　heard　the　semi…articulate　babbling　created　by　the　multitude　of　sera　the　doctor　had　shot　into　the　subject。　This　was　not　the　way　for　a　modern…day　warrior　to　go；　captured　by　the　enemy；　forcibly　ejected　into　rapid…paced　day…night　continua　so　that　weeks　became　pressed　into　hours　until　a　state　of　body　vertigo　was　induced。　According　to　the　prevalent　theory；　the　body　would　do　their　work　for　them；　breaking　down　the　mind　blockages　through　its　own　induced　trauma。
　Protorov　believed　none　of　it。　These　days　there　were　ways　to　stop　a　ferret　from　talking　when　he　did　not　want　to：　hypnosis；　electronic　implants。　And　if　all　else　failed；　he　could　self…destruct。
　Sadness　overwhelmed　Protorov　as　the　increasingly　animated　animal　noises　invaded　his　ears。　This　was　not　the　way　it　should　end　for　any　of　them。　Better　by　far　the　fierce　hand…to…hand　struggle；　the　rising　anima；　the　primal　urges　that　came　in　the　struggle　to　avoid　death　at　all　costs。
　Protorov's　mind　raced　back　to　the　first　time　he　had　felt　the　cold。　〃To　feel　the　cold〃　was　the　KGB　wet…meaning　active　in　the　field…directorates'　phrase　for　the　kill。　The　first　time　for　Protorov　was　indelibly　etched　into　a　corner　of　his　mind。　He　had　been　a　raw　lieutenant　then；　well　trained　from　the　KGB　plex　outside　Sevastopol。　He　thought　he　was　a　crackerjack；　a　world…beater。　He　had　not　reckoned　on　the　field；　which　cut　all　men　down　to　size。
　They　had　sent　him　to　Siberia。　A　top…secret　series　of　experiments　attempting　to　tap　the　perpetual　gale…force　winds　in　the　north　had　been　infiltrated　by　the　Americans。
　In　Verkhoyansk；　the　coldest　place　in　the　world；　he　had　ferreted　out　the　infiltrator；　made　him　bolt　from　his　hole；　and　one　after　the　other　they　had　raced　across　the　frozen　tundra　onto　the　ice　fields。　Two　utter　madmen。
　Only　the　cold　could　win　in　Verkhoyansk。　Man　was　nothing；　a　tiny　mote　in　nature's　vast　well　of　snow　and　ice。　The　snow。　The　snow。　Always　and　forever　the　snow。　It　was　blinding；　chilling；　numbing。　It　was　death。
　But　all　Protorov　could　think　of　was　his　first　assignment。　Oh；　but　he　did　not　understand　the　meaning。　Not　at　all。　Singlemindedly　he　pursued　his　quarry；　seeking　to　feel　the　cold。
　Together　they　tumbled　to　the　ice；　skidding　and　sliding；　froths　of　loose　snow　fountaining　upward　as　they　collided。　Stupidly　Protorov　had　decided　on　a　gun　with　a　silencer。　But　long　since　the　elements；　laughing；　had　frozen　all　the　carefully　oiled　working　parts。　Similarly；　his　knife　would　not　unfold。　There　was　nothing　left　but　his　hands。
　For　almost　half　an　hour　they　grappled　indecisively　in　the　ice　and　snow。　The　bulky　clothes　made　hand…to…hand　bat　clumsy　and　difficult。　Meanwhile　the　frost　was　sapping　their　energies　and；　later；　Protorov　would　e　to　understand　that　it　was　only　his　stamina　that　had　allowed　him　to　prevail。　He　had　not　been　smarter　or　stronger　or　quicker；　all　the　things　he　had　been　taught　to　believe　he　was。　Those　were　lies。　He　had　just　outlasted　the　American。
　What　little　satisfaction　he　had　found　in　grinding　the　dark；　foreign　head　into　the　blood…pink　snow　while　the　breath　slowed　and；　at　last；　stilled；　stemmed　from　the　knowledge　that　he；　Protorov；　was　still　alive；　chest　heaving；　mouth　dry；　pulse　thundering；　and　the　bile　rushing　upward　into　his　throat；　bitter　and　searingly　acidic。
　All　at　once　his　extremities　began　to　shake　uncontrollably　and　all　warmth　left　him。　He　stared　down　at　the　humped　thing　he　straddled　and　thought；　wonderingly；　This　was　once　a　human　being。　An　enemy　of　the　State；　they　had　told　him。　Yes；　he　reiterated；　an　enemy。　An　enemy。
　〃。。　。time　that's　left。〃
　With　a　start　that　no　one　could　see；　Protorov　came　out　of　his　memories。　〃What's　that？〃　His　voice　was　sharp；　making　certain　the　doctor　understood　that　it　was　his　fault　Protorov　had　not　heard　what　he　had　said。
　〃We've　used　up　all　the　time　that's　left；　rade。〃
　〃Do　we　have　anything？〃　Protorov　wanted　to　know。　〃Anything　at　all？〃
　〃The　tape　machines　have　every　word；〃　the　doctor　said　and　Protorov　thought；　I　have　your　number；　rade。
　〃There　is　one　positive　element。〃
　Protorov　turned　his　attention　to　the　young　lieutenant；　seeing　something　of　himself　in　the　younger　man。
　〃We　now　know　that　the　Americans　are　no　closer　to　Tenchi　than　we　are。　In　fact；　I　would　venture　a　guess　that　we　have　more　penetration　at　this　moment。〃
　Protorov　considered　this。　The　lieutenant　was；　of　course；　correct。　But　Protorov　also　knew　that　there　was　a　second　positive　element　to　this；　and　that　was　the　subject　himself。　Or；　more　accurately；　who　the　subject　belonged　to。
　〃All　right；〃　Protorov　said　in　his　dismissive　tone；　〃wrap　up　the　corpse　and　deliver　him　back　to　his　kennel　on　Honshu。　I　want　the　Americans　made　aware　of　their　error　immediately。〃
　When　he　was　again　alone　in　the　odd　windowless　room；　he　turned　on　the　powerful　fans　to　rid　the　space　of　the　cloying　after…scents　of　drugs　and　death。　Then　he　lit　up。
　Switching　on　his　lamp；　he　once　more　pored　over　the　readouts　from　Sakhov　IV。　He　was　closer　to　Tenchi　now　than　he　ever　had　been。　He　could　feel　it。　His　eyes　roved　the　folded　sheets。　Was　it　already　here？　Why　couldn't　he　see　it　then？
　With　a　deep　growl　of　disgust；　he　swept　the　useless　sheaf　into　the　hopper　beside　his　desk　and　turned　the　shredder　to　autofeed。　The　deep　whine　of　scissoring　steel　teeth　filled　the　air。
　Thoughts　of　feeling　the　cold　and　the　grisly　package　that　would　soon　be　delivered　to　the　enemy's　doorstep　led　to　his　concern　over　Sakhov　IV。　Even　with　all　its　ultrasophisticated　equipment；　he　had　found　it　to　be　a　dismal　failure。　But　then　again；　it　was　only　a　machine；　it　could　only　do　what　men　had　programmed　it　to　do。　Nothing　more。　Or　perhaps　there　had　been　a　malfunction　somewhere　within　the　miles　of　multimillion…dollar　circuitry。
　No　matter。　Protorov　had　his　own　human　satellite；　and　it　was　still　functioning　perfectly。
　〃Now；〃　Akutagawa…san　said　from　out　of　the　mist；　from　out　of　Nicholas'　memory；　〃we　will　begin。〃
　〃But　how；〃　Nicholas　said。　〃I　can　see　nothing。〃
　〃Did　you　never　in　Kansatsu's　ryu　train　with　the　blindfold？〃
　〃Of　course。　But　that　was　within　the　boundaries　of　the　dojo。　The　space　was　precise　and　uncluttered　with　trees；　stones；　and　underbrush　the　configurations　of　which　I　am　unfamiliar　with。〃
　〃This　vapor；〃　Akutagawa…san　continued　as　if　Nicholas　had　not　spoken；　〃is　like　the　darkness　but　far　more　difficult　to　negotiate。　In　the　darkness　you　may　be　guided　by　albescence；　a　sliver　of　moon；　the　patch　of　a　household　lantern；　even　the　glitter　of　the　stars。　But　here　there　is　nothing　but　the　mist。〃
　〃I　cannot　even　see　you。〃
　〃But　you　can　hear　me。〃
　〃Yes。　Quite　well。　You　sound　as　if　you　are　in　my　left　ear　but　I　shall　discount　the　peculiar　acoustics。〃
　〃Never　discount　acoustics；〃　Akutagawa…san　said。　〃Rather　strive　to　understand　them　so　that　they　will　bee　another　weapon　in　your　arsenal。〃
　Nicholas　said　nothing；　but　tried　to　concentrate　on　gaining　his　bearings　in　the　valley　in　Yoshino。　Finally　he　decided　that　were　it　not　for　the　jonin's　forting　presence　he　would　be　totally　lost。
　〃You　have　heard；　I　imagine；　that　much　of　the　Kuji…kiri　derives　its　power　from　jaho；　magic。　Tell　me；　Nicholas；　do　you　believe　in　'magic'？〃
　〃I　believe　in　what　is；　sensei；　and　discount　what　is　not。〃
　For　a　time　there　was　silence。　〃That　is　a　very　wise　answer　from　such　a　young　man。　Now　I　want　you　to　listen　to　me　closely。　There　is；　in　all　people；　a　layer…a　middle　layer　of　being…that　lies　between　the　conscious　and　the　subconscious。　It　is　a　land　where　the　imagination　reigns。　It　is　where　daydreams　originate；　where　quick；　overblown　fears　are　created。　It　is　where　day…to…day　anxiety　is　manufactured。
　〃It　is　not　magic；　nor　is　it　an　extrasensory　layer。　Rather；　its　origins　are　quite　primitive。　Our　early　ancestors　required　the　active　assistance　of　this　layer　to　heighten　their　perceptions　in　order　for　them　to　survive：　against　wild　animals；　marauding　bands　of　other　primitive　men　who　sought　their　women　or　the　shelter　of　their　home　caves。
　〃Oh；　yes；　caves。　That　is　how　far　back　in　time　I　speak　of　now。　But　with　the　ing　of　so…called　civilization　this　middle　layer's　reason　for　existence　slowly　atrophied。　With　houses　and　apartments　locked　and　bolted；　with　man's　utter　dominance　over　all　other　life　forms　on　the　planet；　what　use　was　this　layer？
　〃And　yet　it　refused　to　die　out。　Instead　it　became　the　creator　of　small　fears：　anxieties　at　work；　fear　of　dismissal；　fear　of　rejection　in　love；　petty　jealousies　regarding　other　workers；　all　blown　up　out　of　proportion；　meant　to　keep　the　organism　alert　and　functioning　at　peak　efficiency　for　its　survival。　And　yet　survival　is　no　longer　the　issue　from　day　to　day。　Rather　it　is　betterment。　And　so　the　supposed　sharpness　turns　to　anxiety；　the　modern　ailment。
　〃Now　I　reiterate　to　you；　Nicholas…san；　that　there　is　nothing　mystic　about　this　layer。　It　is　not　meditation。　We　are　not　now　speaking　of　the　province　of　the　holy　man；　for　you　and　I　are　certainly　not　that。　We　are　both　men　of　the　world　and　have　not　the　time　nor　the　inclination　to　give　up　the　plethora　of　worldly　appetites　the　holy　man　must　divest　himself　of　in　order　to　reach　these　exalted　states。
　〃Getsumei　no　michi；　the　moonlit　path；　is　open　to　you　now；　Nicholas。　You　must　find　it　and　learn　to　sink　into　it。　I　cannot　help　you　in　this　other　than　by　alerting　you　to　its　existence；　but　it　may　be　of　some　help　to　daydream　and　then　follow　that　daydream　home。〃
　〃How　will　I　know　getsumei　no　michi；　senseil〃
　〃By　two　things。　One　is　that　you　will　feel　all　sensation　gained　in　weight　and　resonance。〃
　〃Do　you　mean　that　I　will　hear　better？〃
　〃Yes；　but　only　in　a　certain　way。　Do　not　confuse　weight　with　amplification。　You　will　not；　as　you　say；　hear　any　better。　You　will　hear　differently。　The　second　sensation　will　be　the　awareness　of　light　even　when　there　is　none　in　your　immediate　surroundings。〃
　〃Forgive　me；　sensei；　but　I　do　not　understand　that。〃
　〃It　is　not　necessary　to　understand；　Nicholas。　Merely　to　remember。〃
　At　the　last　Akutagawa…san's　voice　had　begun　to　fade；　and　now　Nicholas　feared　that　he　was　all　alone　on　the　lower　slope　of　the　hillside。　He　was　a　long　way　from　the　ryu　and　the　mist　had　damped　his　usually　reliable　directional　facilities。
　He　felt　the　first　hard　pangs　of　panic　welling　up　in　his　chest。　He　found　he　had　an　overpowering　urge　to　cry