p&c.brimstone-第46部分
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gridlock； stretching from river to river。 Man； that's the voice of life itself。〃
Hayward laughed as their main courses arrived with a flurry of white…gloved waiters。
〃I could definitely get used to this；〃 said D'Agosta； leaning back and tucking into his duck magret； following it with a swig of Chardonnay。
Hayward placed a sea scallopétuvée in her mouth and savored it。 She didn't believe she had ever tasted anything quite so good in her life。 〃You did well； Vinnie；〃 she said with a smile。 〃You really did well。〃
44
D'Agosta had never been in the place before； but everythingabout it was dismally familiar。 At least the sharp tang of alcohol and formaldehyde and God only knew what other chemicals helped chase away a lingering hangover。 He and Laura Hayward hadn't left the restaurant until 11：30 the night before。 At the sommelier's suggestion； he'd splurged on a demi bottle of dessert wine…Chateau d'Yquem 1990； it had cost him a week's pay at least…and it had proved to be the most wonderful wine he'd ever tasted。 The whole evening had proved wonderful； in fact。
What a tragedy that it had to be followed up by this。
The mingled smell of formalin； bodily fluids； and deposition； the overly clean stainless…steel surfaces； the bank of refrigerating units； the sinister…looking diener lurking in the background； the attending pathologist…and of course the cadaver； star of the show； lying in the middle of the room on an old marble autopsy table； illuminated by its very own spotlight。 It had been autopsied…disassembled was more like it…and a bunch of withered； sliced…and…diced organs lay arrayed around the corpse； each in its own plastic container： brain； heart； lungs； liver； kidneys； and a bunch of other dark lumps D'Agosta did not care to guess at。
Still； this wasn't as bad as some。 Maybe it was because the parade of insects had e and gone and the corpse had decayed to the point where it was as much skeleton as flesh。 Or perhaps it was because the smell of suppuration had almost been replaced by a smell of earth。 Or maybe…D'Agosta hoped…maybe he was finally getting used to it。 Or was he？ He felt that familiar tightening in his throat。 At least he'd been smart enough to skip breakfast。
He watched the doctor standing at the head of the corpse； round black glasses pulled down on his nose； thumbing through a clipboard。 He was a laconic type； with salt…and…pepper hair and a slow； economical way of talking。 He looked irritated。 〃Well； well；〃 he said； flipping over papers。 〃Well； well。〃
Pendergast was restlessly circling the corpse。 〃The death certificate listed lung cancer as the cause of death；〃 he said。
〃I am aware of that；〃 the doctor replied。 〃I was the attending physicianthen ； and at yourrequest ； I have been hauled back here to be the attending pathologistnow 。〃 The man's voice was brittle with grievance。
〃I thank you。〃
The doctor nodded tersely； then went back to the clipboard。 〃I've performed a plete autopsy on the cadaver； and the lab results have e back。 Now； what is it； exactly； that you would like to know？〃
〃First things first。 I'm assuming you confirmed this is indeed the body of Ranier Beckmann？〃
〃Without question。 I checked dental records。〃
〃Excellent。 Please proceed。〃
〃I'll summarize my original records and diagnosis。〃 The doctor flipped over some pages。 〃On March 4； 1995； the patient； Ranier Beckmann； was brought to the E。R。 by ambulance。 The symptoms indicated advanced stages of cancer。 Tests confirmed an extensive…stage small…cell lung carcinoma with distant metastases。 Essentially a hopeless case。 The cancer had spread throughout the body； and general organ failure was imminent。 Mr。 Beckmann never left the hospital and died two weeks later。〃
〃You're sure he died in the hospital？〃
〃Yes。 I saw him every day on my rounds until he died。〃
〃And your recollection； going back over a decade； is still clear？〃
〃Absolutely。〃 The doctor stared at Pendergast over the tops of his glasses。
〃Proceed。〃
〃I conducted this autopsy in two stages。 The first was to test my original determination of cause of death。 There had been no autopsy。 Standard procedure。 The cause of death was evident； there was no family request； and no suspicion of foul play。 The state obviously doesn't pay for an autopsy just for the hell of it。〃
Pendergast nodded。
〃The second stage of my autopsy； as per your request； was to identify any unusual pathologies； conditions； wounds； toxins； or other irregularities associated with the body。〃
〃And the results？〃
〃I confirmed Beckmann died of general organ failure associated with cancer。〃
Pendergast quickly fixed his silvery eyes again on the doctor。 He said nothing： the skeptical look said it all。
The doctor returned the look steadily。 Then he continued； voice calm。 〃The primary was a tumor in his left lung the size of a grapefruit。 There were gross secondary metastatic tumors in the kidneys； liver； and brain。 The only surprising thing about this man's death is that he hadn't showed up in the emergency room earlier。 He must have been in tremendous pain； barely able to function。〃
〃Go on；〃 Pendergast said in a low voice。
〃Aside from the cancer； the patient showed advanced cirrhosis of the liver； heart disease； and a suite of other chronic； but not yet acute； symptoms associated with alcoholism and poor nutrition。〃
〃And？〃
〃That's all。 No toxins or drugs present in the blood or tissues。 No unusual wounds or pathologies； at least none detectable after embalming and almost ten years in the ground。〃
〃No sign of heat？〃
〃Heat？ What do you mean？〃
〃No indication that the body had experienced the perimortem application of heat？〃
〃Absolutely not。 Heat would have caused a host of obvious cell changes。 I've looked at forty； maybe fifty sections of tissue from this cadaver； and not one showed changes associated with heat。 What an extraordinary question； Mr。 Pendergast。〃
Pendergast spoke again； his voice still low。 〃Small…cell lung cancer is caused almost exclusively by smoking。 Am I correct； Doctor？〃
〃You are correct。〃
〃That he died of cancer is beyond a reasonable doubt； then； Doctor？〃 Pendergast allowed a skeptical tone to tinge his voice。
Exasperated； the pathologist reached down； grabbed two halves of a shriveled brown lump； and shoved them in Pendergast's face。 〃There it is； Mr。 Pendergast。 If you don't believe me； believethis 。 Take it。 Feel the malignancy of this tumor。 As sure as I'm standing here；that's what killed Beckmann。〃
It was a long； silent walk back to the car。 Pendergast slipped behind the wheel…today he'd driven himself to Yonkers…and they exited the parking lot。 As they left the gray huddle of downtown behind； Pendergast spoke at last。
〃Beckmann spoke to us quite eloquently； wouldn't you say； Vincent？〃
〃Yeah。 And he stank； too。〃
〃What he said； however； was…I must confess…something of a surprise。 I shall have to write the good doctor a letter of thanks。〃 He swung the wheel sharply； and the Rolls turned onto Executive Boulevard； passing the on…ramp for the Saw Mill River Parkway。
D'Agosta looked over in surprise。 〃Aren't we heading back to New York City？〃
Pendergast shook his head。 〃Jeremy Grove died exactly two weeks ago。 Cutforth； one week ago。 We came to Yonkers to get some answers。 I'm not leaving until we have them。〃
45
The bus inched through a long； white…tiled tunnel in stop…and…go traffic and emerged from an underpass； a long ramp amidst steel girders in semidarkness。
New York City；thought the Reverend Wayne P。 Buck。
Beyond the web of steel； he could see limpid sunlight； sooty tenements； a brief glimpse of skyscrapers。 The bus lurched back into darkness； the brakes chuffing as the line of traffic stopped again。
Buck felt an indescribable mix of emotions： excitement； fear； destiny； a sense of confronting the unknown。 It was the same thing he had felt a couple of years ago； the day he'd been released from prison after serving nine years for murder two。 It had been a long； slow slide for Buck： delinquency； failed jobs； booze； stealing cars； bank robbery…and then the fateful day when everything went wrong and he'd ended up shooting a convenience store clerk。 Killing a poor； innocent man。 As the bus crept forward again； his mind went back over the arrest； trial； sentence of twenty…five to life； the manacled walk into the bowels of the prison。 A period of darkness； best forgotten。
And then； conversion。 Born again in prison。 Just as Jesus raised up the whore； Mary Magdalen； He raised up the alcoholic； the murderer； the man who had been cast away by all others； even his own family。
After his salvation； Buck began reading the Bible： again and again； cover…to…cover； Old Testament and New。 He started preaching a little； a few words here； a helping hand there。 He formed a study group。 Gradually； he'd built up the respect and trust of the prisoners who had ears for the Good Word。 He was soon spending most of his time assisting in the salvation of others。 That； and playing chess。 There wasn't much else to do： magazines were showcases of materialism； television was worse； and books other than the Bible seemed full of profanity； violence； and sex。
As parole grew near； Buck began to feel that his ministry in prison was preparation for something else； that God had a greater purpose for him which would be revealed in time。 After he got out； he drifted from one small town to another； mostly along the border between California and Arizona； preaching the Word； letting God clothe and feed him。 His reading began to expand： first Bunyan； then St。 Augustine； then Dante in translation。 And always； always； he waited for the call。
And now； when he least expected it； the call had e。 God's purpose for him stood revealed。 Who would have thought that his call would take him to New York City； the greatest concentration of spiritual bankruptcy and evil in all America？ Vegas； L。A。； and other such places were merely sideshows to New York。 But that was the beauty of doing God's will。 Just as God had sent St。 Paul to Rome…into the black heart of paganism…so had He sent Wayne P。 Buck to New York。
The bus stopped； lurched again； ever
