cb.damnationgame-第8部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


divinities；　they　all　crumbled　in　the　end。　Fortune　belonged　to　the　man　who　was　willing　to　risk　everything　on　a　single　throw。
　　He'd　done　that。　Not　once；　but　many　times　at　the　beginning　of　his　career；　when　he　was　still　laying　the　foundations　of　his　empire。　And　thanks　to　that　extraordinary　sixth　sense　he　possessed；　the　ability　to　preempt　the　roll　of　the　dice；　the　risks　had　almost　always　paid　off。　Other　corporations　had　their　virtuosi：　puters　that　calculated　the　odds　to　the　tenth　place；　advisers　who　kept　their　ears　pressed　to　the　stock　markets　of　Tokyo；　London　and　New　York；　but　they　were　all　overshadowed　by　Whitehead's　instinct。　When　it　came　to　knowing　the　moment；　for　sensing　the　collision　of　time　and　opportunity　that　made　a　good　decision　into　a　great　one；　a　monplace　takeover　into　a　coup；　nobody　was　Old　Man　Whitehead's　superior；　and　all　the　smart　young　men　in　the　corporation's　boardrooms　knew　that。　Joe's　oracular　advice　still　had　to　be　sought　before　any　significant　expansion　was　undertaken　or　contract　signed。
　　He　guessed　this　authority；　which　remained　absolute；　was　resented　in　some　circles。　No　doubt　there　were　those　who　thought　he　should　let　go　his　hold　pletely　and　leave　the　university　men　and　their　puters　to　get　on　with　business。　But　Whitehead　had　won　these　skills；　these　unique　powers　of　second…guessing；　at　some　hazard；　foolish　then　that　they　lie　forgotten　when　they　could　be　used　to　lay　a　finger　on　the　wheel。　Besides；　the　old　man　had　an　argument　the　young　turks　could　never　gainsay：　his　methods　worked。　He'd　never　been　properly　schooled；　his　life　before　fame　was…much　to　the　journalists〃　dismay…a　blank；　but　he　had　made　the　Whitehead　Corporation　out　of　nothing。　Its　fate；　for　better　or　worse；　was　still　his　passionate　concern。
　　There　was　no　room　for　passion　tonight；　however；　sitting　in　that　chair　（a　chair　to　die　in；　he'd　sometimes　thought）　beside　the　window。　Tonight　there　was　only　unease：　that　old　man's　plaint。
　　How　he　loathed　age！　It　was　hardly　bearable　to　be　so　reduced。　Not　that　he　was　infirm；　just　that　a　dozen　minor　ailments　conspired　against　his　fort　so　that　seldom　a　day　passed　without　some　irritation…an　ulcerous　mouth；　or　a　chafing　between　the　buttocks　that　itched　furiously…fixing　his　attentions　in　the　body　when　the　urge　to　self…preservation　called　them　elsewhere。　The　curse　of　age；　he'd　decided；　was　distraction；　and　he　couldn't　afford　the　luxury　of　negligent　thinking。　There　was　danger　in　contemplating　itch　and　ulcer。　As　soon　as　his　mind　was　turned；　something　would　take　out　his　throat。　That　was　what　the　unease　was　telling　him。　Don't　look　away　for　a　moment；　don't　think　you're　safe　because；　old　man；　I've　a　message　for　you：　the　worst　is　yet　to　e。
　　Toy　knocked　once　before　entering　the　study。
　　〃Bill　。　。　。〃　Whitehead　momentarily　forgot　the　lawn　and　the　advancing　darkness　as　he　turned　to　face　his　friend。
　　〃。　。　。　you　got　here。〃　〃Of　course　we　got　here；　Joe。　Are　we　late？〃　〃No；　no。　No　problems？〃　〃Things　are　fine。〃　〃Good。〃　〃Strauss　is　downstairs。〃　In　the　diminishing　light　Whitehead　crossed　to　the　table　and　poured　himself　a　sparing　glass　of　vodka。　He　had　been　holding　off　from　drinking　until　now；　a　shot　to　celebrate　Toy's　safe　arrival。
　　〃You　want　one？〃　It　was　a　ritual　question；　with　a　ritual　response：　〃No　thanks。〃　〃You're　going　back　to　town；　then？〃　〃When　you've　seen　Strauss。〃　〃It's　too　late　for　the　theater。　Why　don't　you　stay；　Bill？　Go　back　tomorrow　morning　when　it's　light。〃　〃I've　got　business；〃　Toy　said；　allowing　himself　the　gentlest　of　smiles　on　the　final　word。　This　was　another　ritual；　one　of　many　between　the　two　men。　Toy's　business　in　London；　which　the　old　man　knew　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　corporation；　went　unquestioned；　it　always　had。
　　〃And　what's　your　impression？〃　〃Of　Strauss？　Much　as　I　thought　at　the　interview。　I　think　he'll　be　fine。　And　if　he　isn't；　there's　plenty　more　where　he　came　from。〃　〃I　need　someone　who　isn't　going　to　scare　easily。　Things　could　get　very　unpleasant。〃　Toy　offered　a　nonmittal　grunt　and　hoped　that　the　talk　on　this　matter　wouldn't　go　any　further。　He　was　tired　after　a　day　of　waiting　and　traveling；　and　he　wanted　to　look　forward　to　the　evening；　this　was　no　time　to　talk　over　that　business　again。
　　Whitehead　had　put　down　his　drained　glass　on　the　tray　and　gone　back　to　the　window。　It　was　darkening　in　the　room　quite　rapidly　now；　and　when　the　old　man　stood　with　his　back　to　Toy　he　was　welded　by　shadow　into　something　monolithic。　After　thirty　years　in　Whitehead's　employ…three　decades　with　scarcely　a　cross　word　spoken　between　them…Toy　was　still　as　much　in　awe　of　Whitehead　as　of　some　potentate　with　the　power　of　life　and　death　over　him。　He　still　took　a　pause　to　find　his　equilibrium　before　entering　into　Whitehead's　presence；　he　still　found　traces　of　the　stammer　he'd　had　when　they'd　met　returning　on　occasion。　It　was　a　legitimate　response；　he　felt。　The　man　was　power：　more　power　than　he　could　ever　hope；　or　indeed　would　ever　want；　to　possess：　and　it　sat　with　deceptive　lightness　on　Joe　Whitehead's　substantial　shoulders。　In　all　their　years　of　association；　in　conference　or　boardroom；　he　had　never　seen　Whitehead　want　for　the　appropriate　gesture　or　remark。　He　was　simply　the　most　confident　man　Toy　had　ever　met：　certain　to　his　marrow　of　his　own　supreme　worth；　his　skills　honed　to　such　an　edge　that　a　man　could　be　undone　by　a　word；　gutted　for　life；　his　self…esteem　drained　and　his　career　tattered。　Toy　had　seen　it　done　countless　times；　and　often　to　men　he　considered　his　betters。　Which　begged　the　question　（he　asked　it　even　now；　staring　at　Whitehead's　back）：　why　did　the　great　man　pass　the　time　of　day　with　him？　Perhaps　it　was　simply　history。　Was　that　it？　History　and　sentiment。
　　〃I'm　thinking　of　filling　in　the　outdoor　pool。〃　Toy　thanked　God　Whitehead　had　changed　the　subject。　No　talk　of　the　past；　for　tonight　at　least。
　　〃…I　don't　swim　out　there　any　longer；　even　in　the　summer。〃　〃Put　some　fishes　in。〃　Whitehead　turned　his　head　slightly　to　see　if　there　was　a　smile　on　Toy's　face。　He　never　signaled　a　joke　in　the　tone　of　his　voice；　and　it　was　easy；　Whitehead　knew；　to　offend　the　man's　sensibilities　if　one　laughed　when　no　joke　was　intended；　or　the　other　way　about。　Toy　wasn't　smiling。
　　〃Fishes？〃　said　Whitehead。
　　〃Ornamental　carp；　perhaps。　Aren't　they　called　koi？　Exquisite　things。〃　Toy　liked　the　pool。　At　night　it　was　lit　from　below；　and　the　surface　moved　in　mesmerizing　eddies；　the　turquoise　enchanting。　If　there　was　a　chill　in　the　air　the　heated　water　gave　off　a　wispy　breath　that　melted　away　six　inches　from　the　surface。　In　fact；　though　he'd　hated　swimming；　the　pool　was　a　favorite　place　of　his。　He　wasn't　certain　if　Whitehead　knew　this：　he　probably　did。　Papa　knew　most　things；　he'd　found；　whether　they'd　been　voiced　or　not。
　　〃You　like　the　pool；〃　Whitehead　stated。
　　There：　proof。
　　〃Yes。　I　do。〃　〃Then　we'll　keep　it。〃　〃Well　not　just…〃　Whitehead　raised　his　hand　to　ward　off　further　debate；　pleased　to　be　giving　this　gift。
　　〃We'll　keep　it；〃　he　said。　〃And　you　can　fill　it　with　koi。〃　He　sat　back　down　in　the　chair。
　　〃Shall　I　put　the　lawn　lights　on？〃　Toy　asked。
　　〃No；〃　said　Whitehead。　The　dying　light　from　the　window　cast　his　head　in　bronze；　a　latter…day　Medici　perhaps；　with　his　weary…lidded；　pit…set　eyes；　the　white　beard　and　mustache　cropped　nickingly　close　to　his　skin；　the　whole　construction　seemingly　too　weighty　for　the　column　supporting　it。　Aware　that　his　eyes　were　boring　into　the　old　man's　back；　and　that　Joe　would　surely　sense　it；　Toy　sloughed　off　the　lethargy　of　the　room　and　pressed　himself　back　into　action。
　　〃Well　。　。　。　shall　I　fetch　Strauss；　Joe？　Do　you　want　to　see　him　or　not？〃　The　words　took　an　age　to　cross　the　room　in　the　thickening　darkness。　For　several　heartbeats　Toy　wasn't　even　certain　that　Whitehead　had　heard　him。
　　Then　the　oracle　spoke。　Not　a　prophecy；　but　a　question。
　　〃Will　we　survive；　Bill？〃　The　words　were　spoken　so　quietly　they　only　just　carried；　hooked　on　motes　of　dust　and　wafted　from　his　lips。　Toy's　heart　sank。　It　was　the　old　theme　again：　the　same　paranoid　song。
　　〃I　hear　more　and　more　rumors；　Bill。　They　can't　all　be　groundless。〃　He　was　still　looking　out　the　window。　Rooks　circled　above　the　wood　half　a　mile　or　so　across　the　lawn。　Was　he　watching　them？　Toy　doubted　it。　He'd　seen　Whitehead　like　this　often　of　late；　sunk　down　into　himself；　scanning　the　past　with　his　mind's　eye。　It　wasn't　a　vision　Toy　had　access　to；　but　he　could　guess　at　Joe's　present　fears…he'd　been　there；　after　all；　in　the　early　days…and　he　knew　too　that　however　much　he　loved　the　old　man　there　were　some　burdens　he　would　never　be　capable；　or　willing；　to　share。　He　wasn't　strong　enough；　he　was　at　heart　still　the　boxer　Whitehead　had　employed　as　a　bodyguard　three　decades　before。　Now；　of　course；　he　wore　a　four…hundred…pound　suit；　and　his　nails　were　as　immaculately　kept　as　his　manners。　But　his　mind　was　the　same　as　ever；　superstitious　and　fragile。　The　dreams　the　great　dreamed　were　not　for　him。　Nor　were　their　nightmares。
　　Again；　Whitehead　posed　the　haunted　question：　〃Will　we　survive？〃　This　time　Toy　felt　obliged　to　reply。
　　〃Everything's　fine；　Joe。　You　know　it　is。　Profits　up　in　most　sectors　。　。　。〃　But　evasion　wasn't　what　the　old　man　wanted　and　Toy　knew　it。　He　let　the　words　falter；　leaving　a　silence；　after　the　faltering；　more　wretched　than　ever。　Toy's　stare；　now　fixed　on　Whitehead　again；　was　unblinking；　and　at　the　corners　of　his　eyes　the　murk　that　had　taken　over　the　room　began　to　flicker　and　crawl。　He　dropped　his　lids：　they　almost　grated　across　his　eyeballs。　Patterns　danced　in　his　head　（wheels；　stars　and　windows）　and　when　he　opened　his　eyes　again　the　night　finally　had　a　stranglehold　on　the　interior。
　　The　bronze　head　remained　unmoved。　But　it　spoke；　and　the　words　seemed　to　e　from　Whitehead's　bowels；　dirtied　with　fear。
　　〃I'm　afraid；　Willy；〃　he　said。　〃All　my　life　I've　never　been　as　frightened　as　I　am　now。〃　He　spoke　slowly；　without　the　least　emphasis；　as　if　he　despised　the　melodrama　of　his　words　and　was　refusing　to　magnify　it　further。
　　〃All　these　years；　living　without　fear；　I'd　forgotten　what　it　was　like。　How　crippling　it　is。　How　it　drains　your　willpower。　I　just　sit　here；　day　in；　day　out。　Locked　up　in　this　place；　with　the　alarms；　the　fences；　the　dogs。　I　watch　the　lawn　and　the　trees…〃　He　was　watching。
　　〃…and　sooner　or　later；