cb.damnationgame-第4部分

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n　his　hands　as　if　the　cards　were　alive。　Fifty…two　moths　fluttering　in　the　queasy　light；　each　one　marked　a　little　differently　from　the　last。　They　were　almost　indecently　beautiful；　their　glossy　faces　the　most　unflawed　thing　the　thief　had　set　eyes　on　in　months。
　　〃I　want　to　play；〃　he　said；　defying　the　hypnotic　passage　of　cards。
　　〃Then　sit　down；　Pilgrim；〃　Mamoulian　said；　as　though　the　question　had　never　been　at　issue。
　　Almost　soundlessly　the　woman　had　set　a　chair　behind　him。　As　he　sat　down；　the　thief　met　Mamoulian's　gaze。　Was　there　anything　in　those　joyless　eyes　that　intended　him　harm？　No；　nothing。　There　was　nothing　there　to　fear。
　　Murmuring　his　thanks　for　the　invitation；　he　unbuttoned　the　cuffs　of　his　shirt　and　folded　the　sleeves　back　in　preparation　for　play。
　　After　a　time；　the　game　began。
　　
　　
　　Part　Two　ASYLUM
　　
　　The　Devil　is　by　no　means　the　worst　that　there　is；　I　would　rather　have　dealings　with　him　than　with　many　a　human　being。　He　honours　his　agreements　much　more　promptly　than　many　a　swindler　on　Earth。　To　be　true；　when　payment　is　due　he　es　on　the　dot；　just　as　twelve　strikes；　fetches　his　soul　and　goes　off　home　to　Hell　like　a　good　Devil。　He's　just　a　businessman　as　is　right　and　proper。
　　J。N。　NESTROY；　Hollenangst
　　
　　I　Providence
　　
　　5
　　After　serving　six　years　of　his　sentence　at　Wandsworth；　Marty　Strauss　was　used　to　waiting。　He　waited　to　wash　and　shave　himself　every　morning；　he　waited　to　eat；　he　waited　to　defecate；　he　waited　for　freedom。　So　much　waiting。　It　was　all　part　of　the　punishment；　of　course；　as　was　the　interview　he'd　been　summoned　to　this　dreary　afternoon。　But　while　the　waiting　had　e　to　seem　easy；　the　interviews　never　had。　He　loathed　the　bureaucratic　spotlight：　the　Parole　File　bulging　with　the　Discipline　Reports；　the　Home　Circumstance　Reports；　the　Psychiatric　Evaluations；　the　way　every　few　months　you　stood　stripped　in　front　of　some　uncivil　servant　while　he　told　you　what　a　foul　thing　you　were。　It　hurt　him　so　much　he　knew　he'd　never　be　healed　of　it；　never　forget　the　hot　rooms　filled　with　insinuation　and　dashed　hopes。　He'd　dream　them　forever。
　　〃e　in；　Strauss。〃　The　room　hadn't　changed　since　he'd　last　been　here；　only　bee　staler。　The　man　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　table　hadn't　changed　either。　His　name　was　Somervale；　and　there　were　any　number　of　prisoners　in　Wandsworth　who　nightly　said　prayers　for　his　pulverization。　Today　he　was　not　alone　behind　the　plastic…topped　table。
　　〃Sit　down；　Strauss。〃　Marty　glanced　across　at　Somervale's　associate。　He　was　no　prison　officer。　His　suit　was　too　tasteful；　his　fingernails　too　well…manicured。　He　looked　to　be　in　late　middle…age；　solidly　built；　and　his　nose　was　slightly　crooked；　as　if　it　had　once　been　broken　and　then　imperfectly　reset。　Somervale　offered　the　introduction：　〃Strauss。　This　is　Mr。　Toy　。　。　。〃　〃Hello；〃　Marty　said。
　　The　tanned　face　returned　his　gaze；　it　was　a　look　of　frank　appraisal。
　　〃I'm　pleased　to　meet　you；〃　Toy　said。
　　His　scrutiny　was　more　than　casual　curiosity；　though　what…thought　Marty…was　there　to　see？　A　man　with　time　on　his　hands；　and　on　his　face；　a　body　grown　sluggish　with　too　much　bad　food　and　too　little　exercise；　an　ineptly　trimmed　mustache；　a　pair　of　eyes　glazed　with　boredom。　Marty　knew　every　dull　detail　of　his　own　appearance。　He　wasn't　worth　a　second　glance　any　longer。　And　yet　the　bright　blue　eyes　stared　on；　apparently　fascinated。
　　〃I　think　we　should　get　down　to　business；〃　Toy　said　to　Somervale。　He　put　his　hands　palm　down　on　the　tabletop。　〃How　much　have　you　told　Mr。　Strauss？〃　Mr。　Strauss。　The　prefix　was　an　almost　forgotten　courtesy。
　　〃I've　told　him　nothing；〃　Somervale　replied。
　　〃Then　we　should　begin　at　the　beginning；〃　Toy　said。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　hands　still　on　the　table。
　　〃As　you　like；〃　said　Somervale；　clearly　gearing　himself　up　for　a　substantial　speech。　〃Mr。　Toy…〃　he　began。
　　But　he　got　no　further　before　his　guest　broke　in。
　　〃If　I　may？〃　said　Toy；　〃perhaps　I　can　best　summarize　the　situation。〃　〃Whatever　suits；〃　said　Somervale。　He　fumbled　in　his　jacket　pocket　for　a　cigarette；　barely　masking　his　chagrin。　Toy　ignored　him。　The　off…center　face　continued　to　look　across　at　Marty。
　　〃My　employer…〃　Toy　began　〃…is　a　man　by　the　name　of　Joseph　Whitehead。　I　don't　know　if　that　means　anything　to　you？〃　He　didn't　wait　for　a　reply；　but　went　on。　〃If　you　haven't　heard　of　him；　you're　doubtless　familiar　with　the　Whitehead　Corporation；　which　he　founded。　It's　one　of　the　largest　pharmaceutical　empires　in　Europe…〃　The　name　rang　a　faint　bell　in　Marty's　head；　and　it　had　some　scandalous　association。　But　it　was　tantalizingly　vague；　and　he　had　no　time　to　puzzle　it　through；　because　Toy　was　in　full　flight。
　　〃…Although　Mr。　Whitehead　is　now　in　his　late　sixties；　he　still　keeps　control　of　the　corporation。　He's　a　self…made　man；　you　understand；　and　he's　dedicated　his　life　to　its　creation。　He　chooses；　however；　not　to　be　as　visible　as　he　once　was…〃　A　front…page　photograph　suddenly　developed　in　Strauss〃　head。　A　man　with　his　hand　up　against　the　glare　of　a　flashbulb；　a　private　moment　snatched　by　some　lurking　paparazzo　for　public　consumption。
　　〃…He　shuns　publicity　almost　pletely；　and　since　his　wife's　death　he　has　little　taste　for　the　social　arena…〃　Sharing　the　unwele　attention　Strauss　remembered　a　woman　whose　beauty　astonished；　even　by　the　unflattering　light。　The　wife　of　whom　Toy　spoke；　perhaps。
　　〃…Instead　he　chooses　to　mastermind　his　corporation　out　of　the　spotlight；　concerning　himself　in　his　leisure　hours　with　social　issues。　Among　them；　overcrowding　in　prisons；　and　the　deterioration　of　the　prison　service　generally。〃　The　last　remark　was　undoubtedly　barbed；　and　found　Somervale　with　deadly　accuracy。　He　ground　out　his　half…smoked　cigarette　in　the　tinfoil　ashtray；　throwing　the　other　man　a　sour　glance。
　　〃When　the　time　came　to　engage　a　new　personal　bodyguard…〃　Toy　continued；　〃…it　was　Mr。　Whitehead's　decision　to　seek　a　suitable　candidate　amongst　men　ing　up　for　parole　rather　than　going　through　the　usual　agencies。　〃　He　can't　mean　me；　Strauss　thought。　The　idea　was　too　fine　to　tease　himself　with；　and　too　ludicrous。　And　yet　if　that　wasn't　it；　why　was　Toy　here；　why　all　the　palaver？
　　〃He's　looking　for　a　man　who　is　nearing　the　end　of　his　sentence。　One　who　deserves；　in　both　his　and　my　own　estimation；　to　have　an　opportunity　to　be　reintroduced　into　society　with　a　job　behind　him；　and　some　self…esteem　to　go　with　it。　Your　case　was　drawn　to　my　attention；　Martin。　I　may　call　you　Martin？〃　〃Usually　it's　Marty。〃　〃Fine。　Marty　it　is。　Frankly；　I　don't　want　to　raise　your　hopes。　I'm　interviewing　several　other　candidates　in　addition　to　yourself；　and　of　course　at　the　end　of　the　day　I　may　find　that　none　are　suitable。　At　this　juncture　I　simply　want　to　ascertain　whether　you　would　be　interested　in　such　an　option　were　it　to　be　made　available　to　you。〃　Marty　began　to　smile。　Not　outwardly；　but　inside；　where　Somervale　couldn't　get　at　it。
　　〃Do　you　understand　what　I'm　asking？〃　〃Yes。　I　understand。〃　〃Joe　。　。　。　Mr。　Whitehead　。　。　。　needs　somebody　who　will　be　pletely　devoted　to　his　well…being；　who　would　indeed　be　prepared　to　put　his　life　at　risk　rather　than　have　harm　e　to　his　employer。　Now　I　realize　that's　a　lot　to　ask。〃　Marty's　brow　furrowed。　It　was　a　lot；　especially　after　the　six…and…a…half　year　lesson　in　self…reliance　he'd　had　at　Wandsworth。　Toy　was　swift　to　sense　Marty's　hesitation。
　　〃That　bothers　you；〃　he　said。
　　Marty　shrugged　gently。　〃Yes　and　no。　I　mean；　I've　never　been　asked　to　do　that　before。　I　don't　want　to　give　you　some　shit　about　me　being　really　keen　to　get　killed　for　somebody；　because　I'm　not。　I'd　be　lying　through　my　teeth　if　I　said　I　was。〃　Toy's　nods　encouraged　Marty　to　go　on。
　　〃That's　it　really；〃　he　said。
　　〃Are　you　married？〃　Toy　asked。
　　〃Separated。〃　〃May　I　ask；　are　there　divorce　proceedings　in　the　offing？〃　Marty　grimaced。　He　loathed　talking　about　this。　It　was　his　wound；　his　to　tend　and　fret　over。　No　fellow　prisoner　had　ever　wrung　the　story　out　of　him；　even　in　those　three…in…the…morning　confessionals　that　he'd　endured　with　his　previous　cellmate；　before　Feaver；　who　never　talked　of　anything　but　food　and　paper　women；　had　arrived。　But　he　would　have　to　say　something　now。　They　surely　had　the　details　filed　away　somehow　anyway。　Toy　probably　knew　more　about　what　Charmaine　was　doing；　and　with　whom；　than　he　did。
　　〃Charmaine　and　me　。　。　。〃　He　tried　to　summon　words　for　this　knot　of　feelings；　but　nothing　emerged　but　a　blunt　statement。　〃I　don't　think　there's　much　chance　of　us　getting　back　together；　if　that's　what　you're　after。〃　Toy　sensed　the　raw　edge　in　Marty's　voice；　so　did　Somervale。　For　the　first　time　since　Toy　had　entered　the　arena　the　officer　began　to　show　some　interest　in　the　exchange。　He　wants　to　watch　me　talk　my　way　out　of　a　job；　Marty　thought；　he　could　see　the　anticipation　written　all　over　Somervale's　face。　Well；　damn　him；　he　wasn't　going　to　have　the　satisfaction。
　　〃It's　not　a　problem…〃　Marty　said　flatly。　〃Or　if　it　is；　it's　mine。　I'm　still　getting　used　to　the　fact　that　she　won't　be　there　when　I　get　out。　That's　all　it　is；　really。〃　Toy　was　smiling　now；　an　amiable　smile。
　　〃Really；　Marty…〃　he　said；　〃…I　don't　want　to　pry。　I'm　only　concerned　that　we　understand　the　full　facts　of　the　situation。　Were　you　to　be　employed　by　Mr。　Whitehead；　you　would　be　required　to　live　on　his　estate　with　him；　and　it　would　be　a　necessary　condition　of　your　employment　that　you　could　not　leave　without　the　express　permission　of　either　Mr。　Whitehead　or　myself。　In　other　words　you　would　not　be　stepping　into　unconditional　freedom。　Far　from　it。　You　might　wish　to　consider　the　estate　as　a　sort　of　open　prison。　It's　important　for　me　to　know　of　any　ties　you　have　that　might　make　such　constraints　temptingly　easy　to　break。〃　〃Yes；　I　see。〃　〃Furthermore；　if　for　any　reason　your　relationship　with　Mr。　Whitehead　was　not　satisfactory；　if　you　or　he　felt　that　the　job　was　not　suitable；　then　I'm　afraid…〃
　　〃…I'd　be　back　here　to　finish　my　sentence。〃　〃Yes。〃　There　was　an　awkward　pause；　in　which　Toy　sighed　quietly。　It　took　him　only　a　moment　to　recover　his　equilibrium；　then　he　took　off　in　a　new　direction。
　　〃There's　just　a　few　more　questions　I'd　like　to　ask。　You've　done　some　boxing；　am　I　right？〃　〃Some。　A　while　back…〃　Toy　looked　disappointed。　〃You　gave　it　up？〃　〃Yes；〃