cb.damnationgame-第62部分

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his　murmured　song。
　　Through　the　lace　of　approaching　sleep　she　caught　sight　of　a　bright　pattern。　Though　she　couldn't　fix　its　significance；　she　remembered　that　it　had　been　important；　this　orange　spiral　that　glowed　not　far　from　her。　But　what　did　it　mean？　The　problem　vexed　her；　and　kept　the　sleep　she　wanted　at　bay。　So　she　opened　her　eyes　a　little　wider　to　work　out　what　the　pattern　was；　once　and　for　all；　and　so　be　done　with　it。
　　The　cooker　came　into　focus　in　front　of　her；　the　ring　glowing。　The　air　above　it　shimmered。　Now　she　remembered；　and　the　memory　thrust　sleepiness　away。　She　stretched　out　her　arm　toward　the　heat。
　　Don't　do　this；　the　voice　in　her　head　advised。　You'll　only　hurt　yourself。
　　But　she　knew　better。　Slumber　in　his　arms　was　more　dangerous　than　any　pain　the　next　few　moments　would　bring。　The　heat　was　unfortable；　though　her　skin　was　still　inches　from　its　source；　and　for　a　desperate　moment　her　willpower　faltered。
　　You'll　be　scarred　for　life；　the　European　said；　sensing　her　equivocation。
　　〃Let　me　alone。〃　I　just　don't　want　to　see　you　hurt；　child。　I　love　you　too　much。　The　lie　was　a　spur。　She　found　the　vital　ounce　of　courage；　raised　her　hand　and　pressed　it；　palm　down；　onto　the　electric　ring。
　　The　European　screamed　first；　she　heard　his　voice　begin　to　rise　in　the　instant　before　her　own　cry　began。　She　pulled　her　hand　off　the　cooker　as　the　smell　of　burning　hit　her。　Mamoulian　withdrew　from　her；　she　felt　his　retreat。　Relief　flooded　her　system。　Then　the　pain　overwhelmed　her；　and　a　quick　dark　came　down。　She　didn't　fear　it；　though。　It　was　quite　safe；　that　dark。　He　wasn't　in　it。
　　〃Gone；〃　she　said；　and　collapsed。
　　
　　When　she　came　to；　less　than　five　minutes　later；　her　first　thought　was　that　she　was　holding　a　fistful　of　razors。
　　She　edged　her　way　across　to　the　bed　and　put　her　head　on　it　until　she'd　fully　regained　her　consciousness。　When　she　had　courage　enough；　she　looked　at　her　hand。　The　design　of　the　rings　was　burned　quite　clearly　onto　her　palm；　a　spiral　tattoo。　She　stood　up　and　went　to　the　sink　to　run　the　wound　under　cold　water。　The　process　calmed　the　pain　somewhat；　the　damage　was　not　as　severe　as　she　had　thought。　Though　it　had　seemed　an　age；　her　palm　had　probably　only　been　in　direct　contact　with　the　ring　for　a　second　or　two。　She　wrapped　her　hand　up　in　one　of　Marty's　T…shirts。　Then　she　remembered　she'd　read　somewhere　that　burns　were　best　left　to　the　open　air；　and　she　undid　her　handiwork。　Exhausted；　she　lay　on　the　bed　and　waited　for　Marty　to　bring　her　a　piece　of　the　Island。
　　
　　59
　　The　Reverend　Bliss〃　boys　stayed　in　the　downstairs　back　room　of　the　house　on　Caliban　Street；　lost　in　a　reverie　of　watery　death；　for　well　over　an　hour。　In　that　time　Mamoulian　had　gone　in　search　of　Carys；　found　her　and　been　driven　out　again。　But　he　had　discovered　her　whereabouts。　More　than　that；　he　had　gleaned　that　Strauss…the　man　he　had　so　foolishly　ignored　at　the　Sanctuary…had　now　gone　to　fetch　the　girl　heroin。　It　was　time；　he　thought；　to　stop　being　so　passionate。
　　He　felt　like　a　beaten　dog：　all　he　wanted　to　do　was　to　lie　down　and　die。　It　seemed　today…especially　since　the　girl's　skillful　rejection　of　him…that　he　felt　every　hour　of　his　long；　long　life　in　his　sinews。　He　looked　down　at　his　hand；　which　still　ached　with　the　burn　he'd　received　through　Carys。　Perhaps　the　girl　would　understand；　finally；　that　all　of　this　was　inevitable。　That　the　endgame　he　was　about　to　enter　was　more　important　than　her　life　or　Strauss〃　or　Breer's　or　those　of　the　two　idiot　Memphisites　he'd　left　dreaming　two　floors　below。
　　He　went　down　to　the　first　landing　and　into　Breer's　room。　The　Razor…Eater　was　recumbent　on　his　mattress　in　the　corner　of　the　room；　his　neck　akimbo；　his　stomach　impaled；　gaping　up　at　him　like　a　lunatic　fish。　At　the　bottom　of　the　mattress；　drawn　up　close　because　of　Breer's　failing　eyesight；　the　television　gabbled　its　inanities。
　　〃We'll　be　leaving　soon；〃　Mamoulian　said。
　　〃Did　you　find　her？〃　〃Yes；　I　found　her。　A　place　called　Bright　Street。　The　house…〃　he　seemed　to　find　this　thought　amusing；　〃is　painted　yellow。　The　second　floor；　I　think。〃　〃Bright　Street；〃　said　Breer；　dreamily。　〃Shall　we　go　and　find　her　then？〃　〃No；　not　we。〃　Breer　turned　a　little　more　toward　the　European；　he　had　braced　his　broken　neck　with　a　makeshift　splint；　and　it　made　movement　difficult。　〃I　want　to　see　her；〃　he　said。
　　〃You　shouldn't　have　let　her　go　in　the　first　place。〃　〃He　came；　the　one　from　the　house。　I　told　you。〃　〃Oh；　yes；〃　said　Mamoulian。　〃I　have　plans　for　Strauss。〃　〃Shall　I　find　him　for　you？〃　Breer　said。　The　old　images　of　execution　sprang　into　his　head；　as　if　fresh　from　a　book　of　atrocities。　One　or　two　of　them　were　sharper　than　ever；　as　if　they　were　close　to　being　realized。
　　〃No　need；〃　the　European　replied。　〃I　have　two　eager　acolytes　willing　to　do　that　job　for　me。〃　Breer　sulked。　〃What　can　I　do；　then？〃　〃You　can　prepare　the　house　for　our　departure。　I　want　you　to　burn　what　few　possessions　we　have。　I　want　it　to　be　as　though　we　never　existed；　you　and　I。〃　〃The　end's　near；　is　it？〃　〃Now　I　know　where　she　is；　yes。〃　〃She　may　run　off。〃　〃She's　too　weak。　She　won't　be　able　to　move　until　Strauss　brings　her　drug。　And　of　course　he'll　never　do　that。〃　〃You're　going　to　have　him　killed？〃　〃Him；　and　anyone　who　gets　in　my　way　from　this　moment　on。　I've　no　energy　left　for　passion。　That's　been　my　error　so　often：　letting　the　innocent　escape。　You've　got　your　instructions；　Anthony。　Be　about　your　business。〃　He　withdrew　from　the　fetid　room；　and　went　downstairs　to　his　new　agents。　The　Americans　stood　respectfully　when　he　opened　the　door。
　　〃Are　you　ready？〃　he　asked。
　　The　blond　one；　who　had　been　the　more　pliant　from　the　outset；　started　to　express　his　undying　thanks　over　again；　but　Mamoulian　silenced　him。　He　gave　them　their　orders；　and　they　took　them　as　if　he　were　dispensing　sweets。
　　〃There　are　knives　in　the　kitchen；〃　he　said。　〃Take　them　and　use　them　in　good　health。〃　Chad　smiled。　〃You　want　us　to　kill　the　wife　too？〃　〃The　Deluge　has　no　time　to　be　selective。〃　〃Suppose　she　hasn't　sinned？〃　Tom　said；　not　sure　of　why　he　thought　this　foolish　thought。
　　〃Oh；　she's　sinned；〃　the　man　replied；　with　glittering　eyes；　and　that　was　good　enough　for　the　Reverend　Bliss〃　boys。
　　
　　Upstairs；　Breer　hoisted　himself　off　his　mattress　with　difficulty；　and　stumbled　into　the　bathroom　to　look　at　himself　in　the　cracked　mirror。　His　injuries　had　long　ago　stopped　seeping；　but　he　looked　terrible。
　　〃Shave；〃　he　told　himself。　〃And　sandalwood。〃　He　was　afraid　that　things　were　moving　too　fast　now；　and　if　he　wasn't　careful　he　was　going　to　be　left　out　of　the　calculations。　It　was　time　he　acted　on　his　own　behalf。　He　would　find　a　clean　shirt；　a　tie　and　a　jacket　and　then　he　would　go　out　courting。　If　the　endgame　was　so　close　that　the　evidence　had　to　be　destroyed；　then　he　had　better　be　quick。　Better　finish　his　romance　with　the　girl　before　she　went　the　way　of　all　flesh。
　　
　　60
　　It　took　considerably　longer　than　three…quarters　of　an　hour　to　cross　London。　A　large　antinuclear　march　was　underway；　various　sections　of　the　main　body　were　assembling　around　the　city；　then　marching　toward　a　mass　rally　in　Hyde　Park。　The　center　of　the　city；　which　was　at　best　difficult　to　navigate；　was　so　thick　with　marchers　and　arrested　traffic　as　to　be　virtually　impassable。　None　of　which　Marty　had　realized　until　he　was　in　the　thick　of　it；　by　which　time　retreat　and　rerouting　was　out　of　the　question。　He　cursed　his　lack　of　attention：　there　had　surely　been　police　signs　warning　ining　motorists　of　the　delay。　He　had　noticed　none　of　them。
　　There　was　nothing　to　be　done；　however；　except　perhaps　t0　desert　the　car　and　set　out　on　foot　or　by　subway。　Neither　option　was　particularly　attractive。　The　subway　would　be　packed；　and　walking　in　today's　blistering　heat　would　be　debilitating。　He　needed　what　small　reserves　of　energy　he　still　possessed。　He　was　living　on　adrenaline　and　cigarettes；　and　had　been　for　too　long。　He　was　weak。　He　only　hoped…vain　hope…that　the　opposition　was　weaker。
　　It　was　the　middle　of　the　afternoon　by　the　time　he　reached　Charmaine's　place。　He　drove　around　the　block；　looking　for　somewhere　to　park；　and　eventually　found　a　space　around　the　corner　from　the　house。　His　feet　were　somewhat　reluctant；　the　abasement　ahead　wasn't　particularly　attractive。　But　Carys　was　waiting。
　　The　front　door　was　just　slightly　ajar。　He　rang　the　bell　nevertheless；　and　waited　on　the　pavement；　unwilling　simply　to　step　into　the　house。　Perhaps　they　were　upstairs　in　bed；　or　taking　a　cool　shower　together。　The　heat　was　still　furious；　even　though　the　afternoon　was　well　advanced。
　　Down　at　the　end　of　the　street　an　ice…cream　van；　playing　an　off…key　version　of　〃The　Blue　Danube；〃　appeared　and　stopped　by　the　curb　to　await　patrons。　Marty　glanced　toward　it。　The　waltz　had　already　attracted　two　customers。　They　drew　his　attention　for　a　moment：　sober…suited　young　men　whose　backs　were　turned　to　him。　One　of　them　boasted　bright　yellow　hair：　it　shone　in　the　sun。　They　were　taking　possession　of　their　ice　creams　now；　money　was　exchanged。　Satisfied；　they　disappeared　around　the　corner　without　looking　over　their　shoulders。
　　Despairing　of　an　answer　to　his　bell…ringing；　Marty　pushed　the　door　open。　It　grated　across　the　coconut　matting；　which　bore　a　threadbare　〃Wele。　〃　A　pamphlet；　stuck　halfway　through　the　mailbox；　dislodged　and　fell　on　the　inside；　facedown。　The　sprung　mailbox　snapped　loudly　back　into　place。
　　〃Flynn？　Charmaine？〃　His　voice　was　an　intrusion；　it　carried　up　the　stairs；　where　dust　motes　thronged　the　sunlight　through　the　half…landing　window；　it　ran　into　the　kitchen；　where　yesterday's　milk　was　curdling　on　the　board　beside　the　sink。
　　〃Is　anybody　in？〃　Standing　in　the　hallway；　he　heard　a　fly。　It　circled　his　head；　and　he　waved　it　off。　Unconcerned；　it　buzzed　off　down　the　hallway　toward　the　kitchen；　tempted　by　something。　Marty　followed　it；　calling　Charmaine's　name　as　he　went。
　　She　was　waiting　for　him　in　the　kitchen；　as　was　Flynn。　They　had　both　had　their　throats　cut。
　　Charmaine　had　sunk　down　against　the　washing　machine。　She　sat；　one　leg　bent　beneath　her；　staring　at　the　opposite　wall。　Flynn　had　been　placed　with　his　head　over　the　sink　as　though　bending　to　douse　his　face。　The　illusion　of　life　was　almost　successful；　even　to　the　splashing　sound。
　　Mar