alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第24部分

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　And　then　he　told　me　his　story…a　story　of　refugee　oppression　that　I'd　heard　a　hundred　times；　with　a　hundred　variations。　He　was　a　Russian　Jew；　he　said；　one　of　the　millions　of　the　largest　Jewry　in　the　world　that　had　been　'frozen'　for　over　a　century　in　the　notorious　Pale　of　Settlement；　and　in　1905　had　been　forced　to　flee　with　his　father…leaving　mother　and　two　brothers　behind…to　escape　the　ruthless　massacres　carried　out　by　the　'Black　Hundreds'　at　the　behest　of　the　last　of　the　Romanoff　Tzars　who　was　seeking　scapegoats　for　his　crushing　defeat　by　the　Japanese。　His　mother；　he　learned　later；　had　just　disappeared；　while　his　two　brothers　had　survived　only　to　die　in　agony　long　years　afterwards；　one　in　the　rising　in　the　Bialystok　ghetto；　the　other　in　the　Treblinka　gas　chambers。　He　himself　had　found　work　in　the　clothing　industry　in　New　York；　studied　in　night　school；　worked　for　an　oil　pany；　married　and　with　the　death　of　his　wife　that　spring　had　set　about　fulfilling　the　agelong　ambition　of　his　race；　the　return　to　their　holy　land。
　
　It　was　a　touching　story；　pathetic　and　deeply　moving；　and　I　didn't　believe　a　word　of　it。
　
　Every　twenty　minutes　I　changed　position　with　Jackstraw　and　so　the　long　hours　of　the　night　dragged　by　as　the　cold　deepened　and　the　stars　and　the　moon　wheeled　across　the　black　vault　of　the　sky。　And　then　came　moonset；　the　blackness　of　the　arctic　night　rushed　across　the　ice…cap；　I　slowed　the　Citroen　gratefully　to　a　stop　and　the　silence；　breathless　and　hushed　and　infinitely　sweet；　came　flooding　in　to　take　the　place　of　the　nightlong　clamour　of　the　deafening　roar　of　the　big　engine；　the　metallic　clanking　of　the　treads。
　
　Over　our　black　sugarless　coffee　and　biscuits　I　told　our　passengers　that　this　would　be　only　a　brief　three…hour　halt；　that　they　should　try　to　get　what　sleep　they　could：　most　of　them；　myself　included；　were　already　red…eyed　and　drooping　from　exhaustion。　Three　hours；　no　more：　not　often　did　Greenland　offer　travel　weather　like　this；　and　the　chance　was　not　to　be　missed。
　
　Beside　me；　as　I　drank　my　coffee；　was　Theodore　Mahler。　He　was　for　some　reason　restless；　ill　at　ease；　jerky　and　nervous；　and　his　eyes　and　attention　both　wandered　so　much　that　it　was　easy　enough　for　me　to　find　out　what　I　wanted。
　
　When　my　cup　was　empty；　I　whispered　in　Mahler's　ear　that　there　was　a　little　matter　that　I　wished　to　discuss　privately　with　him。　He　looked　at　me　in　surprise；　hesitated；　then　nodded　in　agreement；　rising　to　follow　me　as　I　moved　out　into　the　darkness。
　
　A　hundred　yards　away　I　stopped；　switched　on　my　torch　so　that　he　blinked　in　its　beam；　and　slid　my　Beretta　forward　until　its　barrel　was　clearly　visible；　sharply　outlined　in　the　harsh　white　glare。　I　heard　the　catch　of　the　breath；　saw　the　eyes　widening　in　fear　and　horror。
　
　〃Save　the　act　for　the　judge；　Mahler；〃　I　said　bleakly。　〃I'm　not　interested　in　it。　All　I　want　is　your　gun。〃
　
　
　CHAPTER　SEVEN…Tuesday　7　A。M。…Tuesday　Midnight
　
　〃My　gun？〃　Mahler　had　slowly　lifted　his　arms　until　his　hands　were　at　shoulder　level；　and　his　voice　wasn't　quite　steady。　〃I…I　don't　understand；　Dr　Mason。　I　have　no　gun。〃
　
　〃Naturally。〃　I　jerked　the　barrel　of　the　Beretta　to　lend　emphasis　to　my　words。　Turn　round。〃
　
　〃What　are　you　going　to　do？　You're　making　a…〃
　
　〃Turn　round！〃
　
　He　turned。　I　took　a　couple　of　steps　forward；　ground　the　muzzle　of　the　automatic　none　too　gently　into　the　small　of　his　back；　and　started　to　search　him　with　my　free　hand。
　
　He　was　wearing　two　overcoats；　a　jacket；　several　sweaters　and　scarves；　two…pairs　of　trousers　and　layer　upon　layer　of　underclothes：　searching　him　was　easier　said　than　done。　It　took　me　a　full　minute　to　convince　myself　that　he　wasn't　carrying　a　weapon　of　any　kind。　I　stepped　back；　and　he　came　slowly　round　to　face　me。
　
　〃I　hope　you're　quite　satisfied　now；　Dr　Mason？〃
　
　〃We'11　see　what　we　find　in　your　case。　As　for　the　rest；　I'm　satisfied　enough。　I　have　all　the　proof　I　want。〃　I　dipped　the　torch　beam　to　illuminate　the　handful　of　sugar　I'd　taken　from　the　pocket　of　his　inner　overcoat…there　had　been　well　over　a　pound　in　either　pocket。　〃You　might　care　to　explain　where　you　got　this　from；　Mr　Mahler？〃
　
　〃I　don't　have　to　tell　you　that；　do　I？〃　His　voice　was　very　low。　〃I　stole　it；　Dr　Mason。〃
　
　〃You　did　indeed。　A　remarkably　small…time　activity　for　a　person　who　operates　on　the　scale　you　do。　It　was　just　your　bad　luck；　Mahler；　that　I　happened　to　be　looking　directly　at　you　when　the　theft　of　the　sugar　was　mentioned　back　in　the　cabin。　It　was　just　your　bad　luck　that　when　we　had　our　coffee　just　now　it　was　dark　enough　for　me　to　have　a　swig　from　your　cup　without　your　knowledge：　it　was　so　stiff　with　sugar　that　I　couldn't　even　drink　the　damn'　stuff。　Curious；　isn't　it；　Mahler；　that　such　a　tiny　thing　as　giving　way　to　a　momentary　impulse　of　greed　should　ruin　everything？　But　I　believe　it's　always　the　way：　the　big　slip…up　never　brings　the　big　criminal　to　book；　because　he　never　makes　any。　If　you'd　left　that　sugar　alone　when　you　were　smashing　up　the　valves；　I'd　never　have　known。　Incidentally；　what　did　you　do　with　the　rest　of　the　sugar？　In　your　grip？　Or　just　thrown　away？〃
　
　〃You're　making　a　very　grave　mistake；　Dr　Mason。〃　Mahler's　voice　was　steady　now；　and　if　it　held　any　trace　of　worry　or　guilt　I　couldn't　detect　it。　But　I　was　now　far　beyond　the　naive　stage　of　expecting　to　detect　anything　of　the　sort。　〃I　didn't　touch　those　valves。　And；　apart　from　the　few　handfuls　I　took；　the　sugar　bag　was　quite　intact　when　I　left　it。〃
　
　〃Of　course；　of　course。〃　I　waved　the　Beretta。　〃Back　to　the　tractor；　my　friend；　and　let's　have　a　look　at　this　case　of　yours。〃
　
　〃No！〃
　
　〃Don't　be　crazy；〃　I　snapped。　〃I　have　a　gun；　Mahler。　Believe　me；　I　won't　hesitate　to　use　it。〃
　
　〃I　believe　you。　I　think　you　would　be　quite　ruthless　if　the　need　arose。　Oh；　I　don't　doubt　you're　tough；　Doctor；　as　well　as　being　headstrong；　impulsive　and　not　very　subtle；　but　because　I　rather　respect　your　efficient　and　selfless　handling　of　an　awkward　and　ugly　situation　for　which　you　were　in　no　way　responsible；　I　don't　want　to　see　you　make　a　plete　fool　of　yourself　in　public。〃　He　lifted　his　right　hand　towards　the　lapel　of　his　coat。　〃Let　me　show　you　something。〃
　
　I　jerked　the　Beretta　forward；　but　the　gesture　was　quite　needless。　As　he　pushed　his　hand　under　his　topcoats；　Mahler's　gestures　were　smooth　and　unhurried；　just　as　smooth　and　unhurried　when　he　brought　his　hand　out　again　and　passed　over　to　me　a　leather…covered　card。　I　stepped　back　a　few　feet；　flipped　open　the　card　and　glanced　down　at　it。
　
　That　one　glance　was　enough…or　should　have　been　enough。　I'd　seen　these　cards　scores　of　times　before；　but　I　stared　down　at　this　one　as　if　I'd　never　seen　one　in　my　life。　This　was　a　pletely　new　factor；　it　knocked　all　my　preconceived　notions　on　the　head；　and　I　needed　time；　time　for　reorient　a　tion；　for　understanding；　for　quelling　the　professional　fear　that　came　hard　on　the　heels　of　that　understanding。　Then；　slowly；　I　folded　the　card；　pulled　down　my　snow…mask；　stepped　close　to　Mahler　and　pulled　his　down　also。　In　the　harsh　glare　of　the　torch；　his　face　was　blue　and　white　with　the　cold；　and　I　could　see　the　jutting　of　the　jaw　muscles　as　he　clamped　his　teeth　together　to　keep　them　from　chattering　uncontrollably。
　
　〃Breathe　out；〃　I　said。
　
　He　did　as　I　asked；　and　there　was　no　mistaking　it；　none　at　all：　the　sweet　acetone　breath　of　the　advanced　and　untreated　diabetic　can't　possibly　be　confused　with　anything　else。　Wordlessly；　I　handed　him　back　the　card　and　thrust　the　automatic　into　my　parka　pocket。
　
　At　last　I　said　quietly：　〃How　long　have　you　had　this；　Mr　Mahler？〃
　
　〃Thirty　years。〃
　
　〃A　pretty　advanced　condition？〃　When　it　came　to　discussing　a　man's　illness　with　him；　I　had　little　time　for　the　professional　reticence　of　many　of　my　colleagues：　besides；　the　average　elderly　diabetic　had　survived　to　that　age　simply　because　he　was　intelligent　about　the　dietary　and　medical　treatment　of　his　trouble；　and　usually　knew　all　about　it。
　
　〃My　doctor　would　agree　with　you。〃　I　caught　the　smile　on　his　face　as　he　pushed　his　mask　up；　and　there　wasn't　much　humour　in　it。　〃So　would　I。〃
　
　〃Twice　daily　injections？〃
　
　〃Twice；〃　he　nodded。　〃Before　breakfast　and　in　the　evening。〃
　
　〃But　don't　you　carry　a　hypo　and…〃
　
　〃Normally；〃　he　interrupted。　〃But　not　this　time。　The　Gander　doctor　gave　me　a　jab　and　as　I　can　usually　carry　on　a　few　hours　overdue　without　Ul　effects　I　thought　I'd　wait　until　we　got　to　London。〃　He　tapped　his　breast　pocket。　〃This　card's　good　anywhere。〃
　
　〃Except　on　the　Greenland　ice…cap；〃　I　said　bitterly。　〃But　then　I　don't　suppose　you　anticipated　a　stop…over　here。　What　diet　were　you　on？〃
　
　〃High　protein；　high　starch。〃
　
　〃Hence　the　sugar？〃　I　looked　down　at　the　white　crystals　still　clenched　in　my　left　mitten。
　
　〃No。〃　He　shrugged。　〃But　I　know　sugar　used　to　be　used　for　the　treatment　of　a。　I　thought　maybe　if　I　stuffed　enough　into　myself。。　。　。　Well；　anyway；　you　know　now　why　I　turned　criminal。〃
　
　〃Yes；　I　know　now。　My　apologies　for　the　gun…waving　act；　Mr　Mahler；　but　you　must　admit　I　had　every　justification。　Why　in　the　hell　didn't　you　tell　me　before　now？　I　am　supposed　to　be　a　doctor；　you　know。〃
　
　〃I　would　have　had　to　tell　you　sooner　or　later；　I　suppose。　But　right　now　you'd　plenty　of　troubles　of　your　own　without　worrying　about　mine　also。　And　I　didn't　think　there　would　be　much　chance　of　your　carrying　insulin　among　your　medical　stores。〃
　
　〃We　don't…we　don't　have　to。　Everybody　gets　a　thorough　medical　before　going　on　an　IGY　station；　and　diabetes　hardly　develops　overnight。　。　。　。　You　take　it　all　very　calmly；　I　must　say；　Mr　Mahler。　e　on；　let's　get　back　to　the　tractor。〃
　
　We　reached　there　inside　a　minute。　I　pulled　back　the　canvas　screen；　and　a　thick　white　opaque　cloud　formed　almost　immediately　as　the　relatively　warm　air　inside　met　the　far　sub…zero　arctic　air　outside。　I　waved　my　hand　to　dispel　it；　and　peered　inside。　They　were　all　still　drinking　coffee…it　was　the　one　thing　we　had　in　plenty。　It　seemed　difficult　to　realise　that　we'd　been　gone　only　a　few　minutes。
　
　〃Hurry　up　and　finish　off；〃　I　said　abruptly。　〃We're　on　our　way　within　five　minutes。　Jackstraw；　would　you　start　the　engine；　please；　before　she　chills　right　down？〃
　
　〃On　our　way！〃　The　pro