cb.damnationgame-第69部分

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　　〃Mr。　Whitehead's　bodyguard。　I've　told　you；　I've　been　here　before。〃　Halifax　bent　back　to　the　tray　of　peaches；　more　wasps　congregated　at　a　bruise　on　one　of　them。　〃I'm　sorry；　I　can't　help　you；〃　he　said。
　　〃You　took　them　already；　did　you？〃　Marty　laid　a　hand　on　Halifax's　shoulder。　〃Did　you？〃　〃I'm　not　at　liberty　to　tell　you　anything。〃　〃I'm　a　friend。〃　Halifax　glanced　round　at　Marty。　〃I've　sworn；〃　he　said；　with　the　finality　of　a　practiced　bargainer。　Marty　had　thought　the　scenario　through　as　far　as　this　impasse：　Halifax　confessing　that　he　knew　something；　but　refusing　to　provide　the　details。　What　now？　Did　he　lay　hands　on　the　man；　beat　it　out　of　him？
　　〃Joe　is　in　great　danger。〃　〃Oh；　yes；〃　Halifax　murmured。　〃You　think　I　don't　realize　that？〃　〃I　can　help　him。〃　Halifax　shook　his　head。　〃Mr。　Whitehead　has　been　a　valued　customer　for　a　good　many　years；〃　he　explained。　〃He's　always　had　his　strawberries　from　me。　I　never　knew　a　man　love　strawberries　the　way　he　does。〃　〃Present　tense；〃　Marty　mented。
　　Halifax　went　on　as　though　he　hadn't　been　interrupted。　〃He　used　to　e　in　here　personally；　before　his　lady　wife　died。　Then　he　stopped　ing。　He　still　bought　the　fruit。　Had　somebody　e　and　pick　it　up　for　him。　And　at　Christmas；　there　was　always　a　check　for　the　kiddies。　There　still　is；　e　to　that。　Still　sends　money　for　them。〃　The　wasp　had　alighted　on　the　back　of　his　hand；　where　the　sweet　juice　of　one　fruit　or　another　had　dried。　Halifax　let　it　have　its　fill。　Marty　liked　him。　If　Halifax　wasn't　willing　to　volunteer　the　information　Marty　wouldn't　be　able　to　bully　it　out　of　the　man。
　　〃Now　you　e　here　and　tell　me　you're　a　friend　of　his；〃　Halifax　said。　〃How　do　I　know　you're　telling　the　truth？　People　have　friends　who'd　cut　their　throats。〃　〃His　more　than　most。〃　〃True。　So　much　money；　so　few　people　who　care　about　him。〃　Halifax　had　a　sad　look。　〃Seems　to　me　I　should　keep　his　hideaway　secret；　don't　you？　Or　else　who　can　he　trust　in　all　the　world？〃　〃Yes；〃　Marty　conceded。　What　Halifax　said　made　perfect　and　passionate　sense；　and　there　was　nothing　he　was　prepared　to　do　to　make　him　rescind　it。
　　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said；　cowed　by　the　lesson。　〃I'm　sorry　to　have　kept　you　from　your　work。〃　He　made　his　way　back　toward　the　shop。　He'd　gone　a　few　paces　when　Halifax　said：　〃You　were　the　one。〃　Marty　pivoted　on　his　heel。
　　〃What？〃　〃You　were　the　one　who　came　for　the　strawberries。　I　remember　you。　Only　you　looked　different　then。〃　Marty　ran　his　hand　across　several　days〃　growth　of　beard；　shaving　was　a　forgotten　craft　these　mornings。
　　〃Not　the　hair；〃　Halifax　said。　〃You　were　harder。　I　didn't　take　to　you。〃　Marty　waited　somewhat　impatiently　for　Halifax　to　finish　this　farewell　homily。　His　mind　was　already　turning　over　other　possibilities。　It　was　only　when　he　turned　back　into　Halifax's　words　that　he　realized　the　man　had　changed　his　mind。　He　was　going　to　tell。　He　beckoned　Marty　back　across　the　yard。
　　〃You　think　you　can　help　him？〃　〃Maybe。〃　〃I　hope　somebody　can。〃　〃You've　seen　him？〃　〃I'll　tell　you。　He　rang　the　shop；　asked　for　me。　Funny；　I　recognized　the　voice　immediately；　even　after　all　these　years。　He　asked　me　to　bring　him　some　strawberries。　He　said　he　couldn't　e　himself。　It　was　terrible。〃　〃Why？〃　〃He's　so　frightened。〃　Halifax　hesitated；　looking　for　the　right　words。　〃I　remember　him　as　being　big；　you　know？　Impressive。　He'd　e　in　the　shop　and　everyone　would　part　for　him。　Now？　Shrunk　to　nothing。　Fear　did　that　to　him。　I've　seen　it　happen。　My　sister…in…law；　same　thing　happened　to　her。　She　had　cancer。　Fear　killed　her　months　before　the　tumor。〃　〃Where　is　he？〃　〃I　tell　you；　I　went　back　home　and　I　didn't　say　a　word　to　anyone。　I　just　drank　half　a　bottle　of　Scotch；　straight　off。　Never　done　that　in　my　life。　I　just　wanted　to　get　the　way　he'd　looked　out　of　my　head。　It　really　turned　my　stomach；　hearing　him　and　seeing　him　that　way。　I　mean…if　the　likes　of　him's　scared；　what　chance　have　the　rest　of　us　got？〃　〃You're　safe；〃　Marty　said；　hoping　to　God　the　European's　revenge　wouldn't　stretch　as　far　as　the　old　man's　strawberry　supplier。　Halifax　was　a　good　man。　Marty　found　himself　holding　on　to　this　realization　while　staring　at　the　round；　red　face。　Here　is　goodness。　Flaws　too；　no　doubt：　sins　by　the　armful　perhaps。　But　the　good　was　worth　celebrating；　however　many　stains　the　man　had。　Marty　wanted　to　tattoo　the　date　of　this　recognition　on　the　palm　of　his　hand。
　　〃There's　a　hotel；〃　Halifax　was　saying。　〃It　used　to　be　called　the　Orpheus；　apparently。　It's　up　the　Edgware　Road；　Staple　Corner。　Terrible；　rundown　place。　Waiting　for　the　demolition　squad；　I　shouldn't　be　surprised。〃　〃He's　there　alone？〃　〃Yes。〃　Halifax　sighed；　thinking　of　how　the　mighty　had　fallen。　〃Perhaps；〃　he　suggested　after　a　moment；　〃you　might　take　him　some　peaches　too？〃
　　
　　He　went　into　the　shop　and　came　back　with　a　tattered　copy　of　the　London　A　to　Z　Street　Atlas。　He　flicked　through　the　age…creamed　pages　looking　for　the　appropriate　map；　all　the　while　sounding　his　dismay　at　this　turn　of　events；　and　his　hope　that　things　might　still　turn　out　well。　〃Lot　of　streets　been　leveled　around　the　hotel；〃　he　explained。　〃These　maps　are　well　out　of　date；　I'm　afraid。〃　Marty　peered　at　the　page　Halifax　had　selected。　A　cloud；　bearing　the　rain　that　had　already　dampened　Kilburn　and　points　northwest；　covered　the　sun　as　Halifax's　stained　index　finger　traced　a　route　across　the　map　from　the　thoroughfares　of　Holborn　to　the　Hotel　Pandemonium。
　　
　　
　　XIII　At　the　Hotel　Pandemonium
　　
　　67
　　Hell　is　reimagined　by　each　generation。　Its　terrain　is　surveyed　for　absurdities　and　remade　in　a　fresher　mold；　its　terrors　are　scrutinized　and；　if　necessary；　reinvented　to　suit　the　current　climate　of　atrocity；　its　architecture　is　redesigned　to　appall　the　eye　of　the　modern　damned。　In　an　earlier　age　Pandemonium…the　first　city　of　Hell…stood　on　a　lava　mountain　while　lightning　tore　the　clouds　above　it　and　beacons　burned　on　its　walls　to　summon　the　fallen　angels。　Now；　such　spectacle　belongs　to　Hollywood。　Hell　stands　transposed。　No　lightning；　no　pits　of　fire。
　　In　a　wasteland　a　few　hundred　yards　from　a　highway　overpass　it　finds　a　new　incarnation：　shabby；　degenerate；　forsaken。　But　here；　where　fumes　thicken　the　atmosphere；　minor　terrors　take　on　a　new　brutality。　Heaven；　by　night；　would　have　all　the　configurations　of　Hell。　No　less　the　Orpheus…hereafter　called　Pandemonium…Hotel。
　　It　had　once　been　an　impressive　building；　and　could　have　been　again　if　its　owners　had　been　willing　to　invest　in　it。　But　the　task　of　rebuilding　and　refurbishing　such　a　large　and　old…fashioned　hotel　was　probably　financially　unsound。　Sometime　in　its　past　a　fire　had　raged　through　the　place；　gutting　the　first；　second　and　third　floors　before　being　extinguished。　The　fourth　floor；　and　those　above；　were　smoke…spoiled；　leaving　only　the　vaguest　signs　of　the　hotel's　former　glamor　intact。
　　The　vagaries　of　the　city　planning　department　had　taken　a　further　toll　on　the　building's　chances　of　restoration。　As　Halifax　had　described；　the　land　to　either　side　of　the　hotel　had　been　cleared　for　some　projected　redevelopment。　None　had　been　undertaken；　however。　The　hotel　stood　in　splendid　isolation；　mated　about　with　feed　roads　to　and　from　the　Ml；　no　more　than　three　hundred　yards　from　one　of　the　busiest　stretches　of　concrete　and　tarmac　in　the　south　of　England。　Thousands　of　drivers　glanced　its　way　every　day；　but　its　shabby　grandeur　was　by　now　so　familiar　they　probably　scarcely　registered　its　existence。　Clever；　Marty　thought；　to　hide　in　such　plain　sight。
　　He　parked　the　car　as　close　to　the　hotel　as　he　could；　then　slipped　in　through　a　hole　in　the　corrugated　iron　fencing　around　the　plot；　and　picked　his　way　across　the　wasteland。　The　instructions　on　the　fence…〃No　Trespassing〃　and　〃No　Dumping〃…had　been　conspicuously　ignored。　Black　plastic　bags；　bulging　with　rubbish；　were　piled　in　heaps　among　the　rubble　and　the　old　bonfires。　Many　of　the　bags　had　been　torn　open　by　children　or　dogs。　Domestic　and　manufacturing　trash　spilled　out：　hundreds　of　scraps　of　cloth…sweatshop　offcuts…were　scattered　underfoot；　rotting　food；　the　ubiquitous　tin　can；　cushions；　lampshades　and　car　engines…all　abandoned　on　a　bed　of　rubble　dust　and　gray　grass。
　　Some　of　the　dogs…wild；　Marty　guessed…looked　up　from　their　scavenging　as　he　advanced；　their　pale　flanks　dirty；　their　eyes　yellow　in　the　twilight。　He　thought　of　Bella　and　her　gleaming　family：　these　curs　hardly　seemed　of　the　same　species。　When　he　looked　their　way　they　hung　their　heads　and　watched　him　indirectly；　like　inept　spies。
　　He　went　up　to　the　main　entrance　of　the　hotel：　the　word　ORPHEUS　was　still　clearly　carved　above　the　door；　there　were　mock…Doric　columns　to　either　side　of　the　steps；　and　fancy　tilework　on　the　threshold。　But　the　door　itself　had　boards　nailed　across　it；　and　notices　warned　of　swift　prosecution　if　anyone　trespassed。　There　seemed　little　chance　of　that。　The　second…；　third…　and　fourth…story　windows　were　boarded　up　with　the　same　thoroughness　as　the　door；　those　on　the　first　floor　had　been　bricked　up　entirely。　There　was　a　door　at　the　back　of　the　building　that　was　not　boarded　up；　but　it　was　bolted　from　the　inside。　This　was　probably　where　Halifax　had　entered　the　building：　but　Whitehead　must　have　given　him　access。　Without　breaking　and　entering；　there　was　no　way　in。
　　It　was　only　on　his　second　orbit　of　the　hotel　that　he　gave　some　serious　consideration　to　the　fire　escape。　It　zigzagged　up　the　east　side　of。　the　building；　an　impressive　piece　of　wrought…iron　work　that　was　now　rusting　badly。　Further　mutilation　had　been　done　to　it　by　some　enterprising　salvage　firm；　that；　seeing　profit　in　the　scrap　metal；　had　started　to　cut　the　escape　away　from　the　wall；　only　to　give　up　on　the　job　when　it　had　reached　the　second　floor。　This　left　the　bottom　flight　missing；　the　escape's　truncated　tail　hanging　ten　or　eleven　feet　from　the　ground。　Marty　studied　the　problem。　The　fire…exit　doors　on　most　of　the　stories　had　been　nailed　up；　but　one；　on　the　fourth　story；　showed　signs　of　tampering。　Was　this　how　the　old　man　had　gained　entrance？　He　would　have　needed　help；　presumably：　Luther；　perhaps。
　　Marty　scanned　the　wall　beneath　the　fire　escape。　It　was　graffiti…strewn；　but　smooth。　There　was　no　chance　of　a　handhold　or　foothold　to　get　him　up　the　first　few　feet　and　onto　the　steps　themselves。　He　turned　to　the　wasteland；　looking　for　inspiration；　and