cb.booksofblood-第17部分

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urer　than　the　night　because　wanting。
　　The　boys　knelt　at　the　gate；　their　heads　bowed　in　supplication；　the　plate　they　both　held　lightly　covered　with　a　piece　of　stained　muslin。
　　〃Well？〃　she　said。　The　voice　was　unmistakable　in　their　ears。　His　voice；　out　of　the　mouth　of　the　pig。
　　The　elder　boy；　a　black　kid　with　a　cleft　palate；　spoke　quietly　to　the　shining　eyes；　making　the　best　of　his　fear：　〃It's　not　what　you　wanted。　We're　sorry。〃　The　other　boy；　unfortable　in　his　crowded　trousers；　murmured　his　apology　too。
　　〃We'll　get　him　for　you　though。　We　will；　really。　We'll　bring　him　to　you　very　soon；　as　soon　as　we　possibly　can。〃
　　〃Why　not　tonight？〃　said　the　pig。
　　〃He's　being　protected。〃
　　〃A　new　teacher。　Mr　Redman。〃　The　sow　seemed　to　know　it　all　already。　She　remembered　the　confrontation　across　the　wall；　the　way　he'd　stared　at　her　as　though　she　was　a　zoological　specimen。　So　that　was　her　enemy；　that　old　man。　She'd　have　him。　Oh　yes。
　　The　boys　heard　her　promise　of　revenge；　and　seemed　content　to　have　the　matter　taken　out　of　their　hands。
　　〃Give　her　the　meat；〃　said　the　black　boy。
　　The　other　one　stood　up；　removing　the　muslin　cloth。　The　bacon　smelt　bad；　but　the　sow　nevertheless　made　wet　noises　of　enthusiasm。　Maybe　she　had　forgiven　them。
　　〃Go　on；　quickly。〃　The　boy　took　the　first　strip　of　bacon　between　finger　and　thumb　and　proffered　it。　The　sow　turned　her　mouth　sideways　up　to　it　and　ate；　showing　her　yellowish　teeth。　It　was　gone　quickly。　The　second；　the　third；　fourth；　fifth　the　same。
　　The　sixth　and　last　piece　she　took　with　his　fingers；　snatched　with　such　elegance　and　speed　the　boy　could　only　cry　out　as　her　teeth　champed　through　the　thin　digits　and　swallowed　them。　He　withdrew　his　hand　from　over　the　sty　wall；　and　gawped　at　this　mutilation。　She　had　done　only　a　little　damage；　considering。　The　top　of　his　thumb　and　half　his　index　finger　had　gone。　The　wounds　bled　quickly；　fully；　splashing　on　to　his　shirt　and　his　shoes。　She　grunted　and　snorted　and　seemed　satisfied。
　　The　boy　yelped　and　ran。
　　〃Tomorrow；〃　said　the　sow　to　the　remaining　supplicant。　〃Not　this　old　pig…meat。　It　must　be　white。　White　and　lacy。〃　She　thought　that　was　a　fine　joke。
　　〃Yes；〃　the　boy　said；　〃yes；　of　course。〃
　　〃Without　fail；〃　she　ordered。
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃Or　I　e　for　him　myself。　Do　you　hear　me？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃I　e　for　him　myself；　wherever　he's　hiding。　I　will　eat　him　in　his　bed　if　I　wish。　In　his　sleep　I　will　eat　off　his　feet；　then　his　legs；　then　his　balls；　then　his　hips…；　〃Yes；　yes。〃
　　〃I　want　him；〃　said　the　sow；　grinding　her　trotter　in　the　straw。
　　〃He's　mine。〃
　　
　　〃Henessey　dead？〃　said　Leverthal；　head　still　down　as　she　wrote　one　of　her　interminable　reports。　〃It's　another　fabrication。　One　minute　the　child　says　he's　in　the　Centre；　the　next　he's　dead。　The　boy　can't　even　get　his　story　straight。〃　It　was　difficult　to　argue　with　the　contradictions　unless　one　accepted　the　idea　of　ghosts　as　readily　as　Lacey。　There　was　no　way　Redman　was　going　to　try　and　argue　that　point　with　the　woman。　That　part　was　a　nonsense。　Ghosts　were　foolishness；　just　fears　made　visible。　But　the　possibility　of　Henessey's　suicide　made　more　sense　to　Redman。　He　pressed　on　with　his　argument。
　　〃So　where　did　Lacey　get　this　story　from；　about　Henessey's　death？　It's　a　funny　thing　to　invent。〃　She　deigned　to　look　up；　her　face　drawn　up　into　itself　like　a　snail　in　its　shell。
　　〃Fertile　imaginations　are　par　for　the　course　here。　If　you　heard　the　tales　I've　got　on　tape：　the　exoticism　of　some　of　them　would　blow　your　head　open。〃
　　〃Have　there　been　suicides　here？〃
　　〃In　my　time？〃　She　thought　for　a　moment；　pen　poised。　〃Two　attempts。　Neither；　I　think；　intended　to　succeed。　Cries　for　help。〃
　　〃Was　Henessey　one？〃　She　allowed　herself　a　little　sneer　as　she　shook　her　head。
　　〃Henessey　was　unstable　in　a　pletely　different　direction。　He　thought　he　was　going　to　live　forever。　That　was　his　little　dream：　Henessey　the　Nietzchean　Superman。　He　had　something　close　to　contempt　for　the　mon　herd。　As　far　as　he　was　concerned；　he　was　a　breed　apart。　As　far　beyond　the　rest　of　us　mere　mortals　as　he　was　beyond　that　wretched…〃　He　knew　she　was　going　to　say　pig；　but　she　stopped　just　short　of　the　word。
　　〃Those　wretched　animals　on　the　farm；〃　she　said；　looking　back　down　at　her　report。
　　〃Henessey　spent　time　at　the　farm？〃
　　〃No　more　than　any　other　boy；〃　she　lied。　〃None　of　them　like　farm　duties；　but　it's　part　of　the　work　rota。　Mucking　out　isn't　a　very　pleasant　occupation。　I　can　testify　to　that。〃　The　lie　he　knew　she'd　told　made　Redman　keep　back　Lacey's　final　detail：　that　Henessey's　death　had　taken　place　in　the　pig…sty。
　　He　shrugged；　and　took　an　entirely　different　tack。
　　〃Is　Lacey　under　any　medication？〃
　　〃Some　sedatives。〃
　　〃Are　the　boys　always　sedated　when　they've　been　in　a　fight？〃
　　〃Only　if　they　try　to　make　escapes。　We　haven't　got　enough　staff　to　supervise　the　likes　of　Lacey。　I　don't　see　why　you're　so　concerned。〃
　　〃I　want　him　to　trust　me。　I　promised　him。　I　don't　want　him　let　down。〃
　　〃Frankly；　all　this　sounds　suspiciously　like　special　pleading。　The　boy's　one　of　many。　No　unique　problems；　and　no　particular　hope　of　redemption。〃
　　〃Redemption？〃　It　was　a　strange　word。
　　〃Rehabilitation；　whatever　you　choose　to　call　it。　Look；　Redman；　I'll　be　frank。　There's　a　general　feeling　that　you're　not　really　playing　ball　here。〃
　　〃Oh？〃
　　〃We　all　feel；　I　think　this　includes　the　Governor；　that　you　should　let　us　go　about　our　business　the　way　we're　used　to。　Learn　the　ropes　before　you　start…〃
　　〃Interfering。〃　She　nodded。　〃It's　as　good　a　word　as　any。　You're　making　enemies。〃
　　〃Thank　you　for　the　warning。〃
　　〃This　job's　difficult　enough　without　enemies；　believe　me。〃　She　attempted　a　conciliatory　look；　which　Redman　ignored。
　　Enemies　he　could　live　with；　liars　he　couldn't。
　　
　　The　Governor's　room　was　locked；　as　it　had　been　for　a　full　week　now。　Explanations　differed　as　to　where　he　was。　Meetings　with　funding　bodies　was　a　favourite　reason　touted　amongst　the　staff；　though　the　Secretary　claimed　she　didn't　exactly　know。　There　were　Seminars　at　the　University　he　was　running；　somebody　said；　to　bring　some　research　to　bear　on　the　problems　of　Remand　Centres。　Maybe　the　Governor　was　at　one　of　those。　If　Mr　Redman　wanted；　he　could　leave　a　message；　the　Governor　would　get　it。
　　Back　in　the　workshop；　Lacey　was　waiting　for　him。　It　was　almost　seven…fifteen：　classes　were　well　over。
　　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃
　　〃Waiting；　sir。〃
　　〃What　for？〃
　　〃You；　sir。　I　wanted　to　give　you　a　letter；　sir。　For　me　mam。　Will　you　get　it　to　her？〃
　　〃You　can　send　it　through　the　usual　channels；　can't　you？　Give　it　to　the　Secretary；　she'll　forward　it。　You're　allowed　two　letters　a　week。〃　Lacey's　face　fell。
　　〃They　read　them；　sir：　in　case　you　write　something　you　shouldn't。　And　if　you　do；　they　burn　them。〃
　　〃And　you've　written　something　you　shouldn't？〃　He　nodded。
　　〃What？〃
　　〃About　Kevin。　I　told　her　all　about　Kevin；　about　what　happened　to　him。〃
　　〃I'm　not　sure　you've　got　your　facts　right　about　Henessey。〃　The　boy　shrugged。　〃It's　true；　sir；〃　he　said　quietly；　apparently　no　longer　caring　if　he　convinced　Redman　or　not　〃It's　true。　He's　there；　sir。　In　her。〃
　　〃In　who？　What　are　you　talking　about？〃　Maybe　Lacey　was　speaking；　as　Leverthal　had　suggested；　simply　out　of　his　fear。　There　had　to　be　a　limit　to　his　patience　with　the　boy；　and　this　was　just　about　it。
　　A　knock　on　the　door；　and　a　spotty　individual　called　Slape　was　staring　at　him　through　the　wired　glass。
　　〃e　in。〃
　　〃Urgent　telephone　call　for　you；　sir。　In　the　Secretary's　Office。〃　Redman　hated　the　telephone。　Unsavoury　machine：　it　never　brought　good　tidings。
　　〃Urgent。　Who　from？〃　Slape　shrugged　and　picked　at　his　face。
　　〃Stay　with　Lacey；　will　you？〃　Slape　looked　unhappy　with　the　prospect。
　　〃Here；　sir？〃　he　asked。
　　〃Here。〃
　　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　　〃I'm　relying　on　you；　so　don't　let　me　down。〃
　　〃No；　sir。〃　Redman　turned　to　Lacey。　The　bruised　look　was　a　wound　now　open；　as　he　wept。
　　〃Give　me　your　letter。　I'll　take　it　to　the　Office。〃　Lacey　had　thrust　the　envelope　into　his　pocket。　He　retrieved　it　unwillingly；　and　handed　it　across　to　Redman。
　　〃Say　thank　you。〃
　　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃
　　
　　The　corridors　were　empty。
　　It　was　television　time；　and　the　nightly　worship　of　the　box　had　begun。　They　would　be　glued　to　the　black　and　white　set　that　dominated　the　Recreation　Room；　sitting　through　the　pap　of　Cop　Shows　and　Game　Shows　and　Wars　from　the　World　Shows　with　their　jaws　open　and　their　minds　closed。　A　hypnotized　silence　would　fall　on　the　assembled　pany　until　a　promise　of　violence　or　a　hint　of　sex。　Then　the　room　would　erupt　in　whistles；　obscenities；　and　shouts　of　encouragement；　only　to　subside　again　into　sullen　silence　during　the　dialogue；　as　they　waited　for　another　gun；　another　breast。　He　could　hear　gunfire　and　music；　even　now；　echoing　down　the　corridor。
　　The　Office　was　open；　but　the　Secretary　wasn't　there。　Gone　home　presumably。　The　clock　in　the　Office　said　eight…nineteen。　Redman　amended　his　watch。
　　The　telephone　was　on　the　hook。　Whoever　had　called　him　had　tired　of　waiting；　leaving　no　message。　Relieved　as　he　was　that　the　call　wasn't　urgent　enough　to　keep　the　caller　hanging　on；　he　now　felt　disappointed　not　to　be　speaking　to　the　outside　world。　Like　Crusoe　seeing　a　sail；　only　to　have　it　sweep　by　his　island。
　　Ridiculous：　this　wasn't　his　prison。　He　could　walk　out　whenever　he　liked。　He　would　walk　out　that　very　night：　and　be　Crusoe　no　longer。
　　He　contemplated　leaving　Lacey's　letter　on　the　desk；　but　thought　better　of　it。　He　had　promised　to　protect　the　boy's　interests；　and　that　he　would　do。　If　necessary；　he'd　post　the　letter　himself。
　　Thinking　of　nothing　in　particular；　he　started　back　towards　the　workshop。　Vague　wisps　of　unease　floated　in　his　system；　clogging　his　responses。　Sighs　sat　in　his　throat；　scowls　on　his　face。　This　damn　place；　he　said　aloud；　not　meaning　the　walls　and　the　floors；　but　the　trap　they　represented。　He　felt　he　could　die　here　with　his　good　intentions　arrayed　around　him　like　flowers　round　a　stiff；　and　nobody　would　know；　or　care；　or　mourn。　Idealism　was　weakness　here；　passion　and　indulgence。　Unease　was　all：　unease　and…Silence。
　　That　was　what　was　wrong。　Though　the　television　still　popped　and　screamed