thedestroyer.deathcheck-第10部分

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　instructor；　who　said　something　about　〃a　game　some　time。〃
　But　Remo　wasn't　paying　attention。　He　was　looking　for　one　who　wasn't　there；　the　black…haired　beauty　who　had　vanished　into　the　last　cottage　as　soon　as　the　fight　ended。
　
　CHAPTER　ELEVEN
　
　It　was　noon；　and　as　he　did　every　day；　Remo　checked　Dial…a…Prayer　in　Chicago。　The　Reverend　Sminstershoop　was　still　in　Psalms。
　Genesis　would　have　begun　a　get…ready　countdown。　Ec…clesiastes　would　have　given　Remo　a　day　to　…finish　his　assignment。　Deuteronomy　meant　all　plans　out　the　window；　wipe　out　the　place　and　split。
　But　Psalms　just　meant　another　day　at　peak　readiness。　Yea；　though　he　walked　through　the　valley　of　death；　he　could　not　relax；　let　the　tension　drain；　recoup　his　powers。　He　feared　only　the　evil　of　diminishing　every　day。　Already；　if　he　were　to　risk　the　cat　fall；　he　knew　he　would　not　just　make　a　sound；　he　would　probably　get　a　concussion。
　So　he　spoke　a　number　into　the　tape　recording。　The　number　was　of　his　telephone　booth　with　the　area　code　placed　last；　the　traditional　way　of　destroying　as　many　links　as　possible；　even　if　those　links　were　to　your　own　people；　monitoring　ining　phone　calls　for　people　they　did　not　know。
　And　he　hung　up；　not　by　returning　the　receiver；　but　by　leaning　his　phone　arm　down　on　the　cradle。　He　kept　it　there　five　minutes　while　chattering　away　to　no　one。　On　the　first　buzz　before　the　bell　engaged　in　the　first　ring；　Remo　released　the　cradle。
　〃It's　me；〃　he　said；　that　being　enough　identification。　At　one　time　he　had　a　number；　but　he　could　never　remember　it；　and　Smith　finally　told　him　to　forget　it。　〃Look；　I　spoke　with　everyone　but　the　woman　here。　And　I　don't　believe　the　pictures。　Were　the　photos　possibly　phonys？〃
　〃No。　We　got　the　original　negatives。　We　matched　the　grains　right　from　the　beginning。　Why　do　you　ask？〃
　〃I　just　wanted　to　be　helpful。〃
　〃Don't　be　helpful。　The　photos　aren't　your　primary　purpose　there。　Have　you　arranged　for。。。　for　whatever　might　be　necessary？〃　Even　on　a　scrambled　phone　that　could　not　be　tapped；　Smith　was　cautious。
　〃That's　all　done；〃　Remo　said。　〃This　is　a　togetherness　joint。　Every　night；　all　the　boys　gather　around　the　recreation　room。　Give　me　five　minutes　and　I　can　rig　the　air…conditioning　to　do　the　job。〃
　〃How　about　individuals？〃
　〃No　problem　there；　either。　I　can　talk　them　all　to　death。〃
　〃Is　that　supposed　to　be　funny？　What　the　hell　is　the　matter　with　you。　You're　getting。。。　unstable。〃
　Remo　knew　that　was　the　second　worst　word　in　Smith's　vocabulary。　Worst　was　〃inpetent。〃
　〃I　want　to　go　off　peak。〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃Because　you're　on　a　job。〃
　〃I'm　losing　my　edge。〃
　〃Don't　give　me　that　gymnasium　talk。　Edge　this；　peak　that。　Just　stay　in　shape。〃
　〃I'm　slipping。〃
　〃You'll　do。〃
　〃I'm　going　slowly　crazy。〃
　〃You　always　were。〃
　〃I　think　I'm　getting　inpetent。〃
　〃Would　one　day　help？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃One　day　might　be　all　right。　Yes。　Take　it　if　you　need　it。　But　don't　make　it　a　big　day。　We　don't　know　what　the　sister　agencies　might　e　up　with；　and　when　you　might　have　to　move。〃
　〃Okay。〃　Remo　changed　the　subject　before　Smith　had　a　chance　to　change　his　mind。　〃Did　you　get　the　package　I　sent　you？　The　wallets？〃
　〃Yes。　We're　working　on　them；　but　they're　difficult　to　trace。　By　the　way。。。…。〃
　〃No　more　'by　the　ways'。〃
　〃By　the　way；〃　Smith　persisted。　〃Have　you　found　out　what　they　do　there？　I　mean。。。　their　little　plan？〃
　〃You　wouldn't　understand　it　if　I　told　you；〃　Remo　said；　hanging　up。　He　was　already　halfway　toward　being　an　intellectual；　the　main　ingredient　being　to　have　someone　around　to　be　a　non…intellectual。
　Maybe　that's　what　the　forum　was　all　about。　An　elaborate　hustle。　Remo　didn't　believe　that　any　of　the　scientists　at　Brewster　Forum；　up　to　and　including　its　founder；　could　have　produced　a　plan　to　conquer　a　phone　booth。　Not　one　of　the　scientists　had　given　even　a　hint　of　doing　any　kind　of　work　the　government　might　possibly　think　was　important。　And　Remo　had　talked　to　all　of　them；　except　for　the　dark…haired　beauty；　Dr。　Deborah　Hirshbloom。
　Strangely　enough；　he　already　liked　them。　Very　smart；　Remo。　Now　all　you　have　to　do　is　to　fall　in　love　with　Dr。　Deborah　Hirshbloom。　That　would　really　be　smart。
　Perhaps　if　he　had　been　trained　to　work　up　a　hate。　Professional　football　players　do　it。　Why　not　him？　Because；　sweetheart；　you　were　taught　to　work　up　a　nothing。　Start　hating　and　that's　the　next　best　thing　to　loving　for　making　you　inpetent。　Shit；　next　thing　you　know；　you'll　be　a　human　being。　And　then　look　where　all　that　wonderful　money　would　go。　Down　the　drain。　All　that　money　that　was　spent　to　make　you　the　wonderful　nothing　you　are。　A　man　who　can　hold　his　arm　extended；　absolutely　motionless；　not　one　shake；　for　fifty…three　minutes。　Let's　hear　it　for　the　geniuses　who　run　this　country。　Let's　hear　it　for　CURE。　Hush。　Hush。　Hush。
　Staying　at　peak　does　wonders　for　the　mental　processes。　Yes；　Remo；　talk　to　yourself。　Let's　hear　it　for　CURE。　Hush。　Hush。　Hush。
　You've　heard　of　the　right　hand　not　knowing　what　the　left　is　doing。　Well；　our　cuticles　don't　know　what　our　knuckles　are　doing。　Let's　hear　it　for　CURE。　Hush。　Hush。　Hush。
　Okay；　pal；　slow　down。　That　lady　in　the　car　saw　you　laughing　to　yourself。　Slow　it　down。　Move　the　oxygen　around。　Go　back　to　that　room　they　gave　you　during　training。　You　remember　the　room。　The　quiet　room。　Remember　every　detail；　just　how　it　felt。　Quiet　room。　Black　carpeting。　The　couch。
　〃You　can　always　e　back　to　this　room　in　your　mind；〃　Chiun　had　said。　〃This　is　your　safety；　your　retreat。　When　your　mind　or　your　body　needs　rest；　e　back。　You　are　safe　here。　And　loved　here。　No　one　may　enter　whom　you　do　not　invite。　Just　send　vour　mind　back　here。〃
　And　Remo　went　back　to　the　room　and　just　sat　with　Chiun　as　he　had　sat　before。　And　his　mind　cooled　and　some　strength　returned。　The　woman's　face　was　familiar。　Or　was　it？　People　are　recognized　more　by　the　way　they　walk　or　hold　their　head　than　by　features。　Features　are　only　the　final；　the　last；　proof　of　recognition。
　It　was　a　hard　face；　a　very　old　thirty　five；　under　smooth　flaxen　hair。　She　rested　a　bare　arm　on　the　window　opening　of　the　convertible。
　〃Hi　there；　fella。　How　are　you？〃
　〃Do　I　know　you？〃
　〃No；　but　I　know　you。　The　chess　game。　You　couldn't　see　me。　Magnificent　move。〃
　〃Oh；〃　said　Retno。
　〃I'm　Anna　Stohrs。　Dr。　Stohrs'　daughter；　the　chess　instructor。　I'm　also　president　of　the　daughters'　association　of　Brewster　Forum。〃
　〃A　lot　of　daughters　here？〃
　〃Yes；　but　none　like　me。〃
　〃That's　nice；〃　Remo　said。。
　〃I　think　you're　cute。　Let's。〃
　〃Let's　what？〃
　〃You　know。〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Why　not？〃。
　〃I'm　a　virgin。〃。；。
　〃I　don't　believe　you。〃
　〃Okay；　I'm　not　a　virgin；〃　Remo　agreed。
　He　could　see　her　play　her　eyes　down　his　body；　lingering　at　his　groin。
　〃Would　you　do　it　for　pay？〃　she　asked。
　〃No。〃
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃You　think　you're　cute；　don't　you？〃
　She　smiled　an　even…toothed　smile；　an　attractive　but　hard　smile。　She　tilted　her　head　back　in　arrogance。　〃I　know　I'm　cute；　copper。〃
　She　had　switched　tactics；　to　pricking　the　ego；　setting　herself　as　a　tough　prize；　much　like　the　heroine　of　a　lovely　little　novel　Remo　had　once　read。　He　leaned　into　the　car。
　〃Not　caring　about　someone；〃　he　said；　〃is　apologizing。　I　apologize。　I　have　an　appointment。〃
　And　he　left　for　the　circle　of　the　Forum；　to　attempt　to　track　down　Doctor　Hirshbloom；　to　finish　the　set…up　on　her　before　he　took　his　wonderful　day　off。
　Strange　about　her。　All　the　other　scientists　had　sought　him　out　after　the　incident　with　the　cycle　gang。　Father　Boyle　had　been　the　first　interview　and　a　surprisingly　difficult　fix。　Like　most　Jesuits；　he　made　a　career　of　not　seeming　like　a　priest；　while　deeply　acting　out　his　faith。
　He　sat　with　his　big　feet　on　his　very　little　desk。　Remo　had　learned　to　distrust　people　who　sat　with　their　feet　on　the　desk。　It　was　usually　a　e…on　by　ho；　ho；　ho；　one…big…happy…family　fakers　trying　to　get　a　hustler's　edge。
　But　Remo　was　willing　to　forgive　and　forget　in　Boyle's　case；　especially　since　Boyle　had　been　the　only　man　at　the　chess　tournament　the　first　night　to　act　like　a　human　being。
　Now　Remo　found　himself　looking　at　the　gargantuan　soles　of　the　mammoth　shoes　on　the　heroic　feet　of　the　Rev。　Robert　A。　Boyle；　S。　J。　The　Sorbonne。　M。I。T。　Anthropologist。　Classical　Scholar。　Mathematician。　Director　of　Bio…cycle　Analysis　at　Brewster　Forum。
　Remo　ran　his　mind　back　over　the　pornographic　photos　of　Boyle。　Yes；　they　had　shown　his　giant　feet。　Remo　had　seen　them；　memorized　them；　but　they　had　not　registered。　His　perceptions　were　slipping。　It　was　the　three　month　peak。　He　was　falling　apart。
　〃Well？〃　Boyle　had　sat　up　at　the　desk　and　was　looking　at　Remo。
　〃Well　what？〃
　〃I　was　wondering　what　you　thought　of　our　looney　bin。〃
　〃A　great　place　to　visit。　I　wouldn't　want　to　live　here。〃
　〃Not　much　chance　of　that。　Your　presence　here　seems　to　have　a　deleterious　effect　on　the　quietude　of　our　little　rest　home。　First；　making　Ratchett　look　silly　at　the　chess　tournament。　And　then　yesterday　that　show　with　those　hooligans。〃
　〃It's　what　I　get　paid　for；〃　Remo　answered　laconically。　Stop　being　a　nice　guy；　he　thought。　Be　a　bastard。　Then　I　can　figure　out　a　way　to　kill　you；　without　any　regrets。
　〃I'll　have　to　ask　you　a　lot　of　questions；〃　Boyle　said。
　〃Is　there　any　reason　I　should　answer　them？〃
　If　he　had　heard；　Boyle　ignored　him。　〃I'll　need　to　know　where　you　were　born　and　where　you　were　brought　up。　Your　native　stock。　All　the　usual　dates　and　anniversaries。　When　you　went　to　prison。〃
　The　alarm　light　flashed　in　Remo's　mind。　Prison？　What　did　Boyle　know。。。　what　could　he　know。。。　about　Remo's　past？　He　forced　himself　into　calmness。　〃Prison？〃　he　asked　casually。　〃What　made　you　think　I'd　been　in　prison？〃
　〃It's　been　my　experience；〃　Boyle　said；　his　cool　blue　eyes　looking　guilelessly　into　Remo's　hard　face；　〃that　people　who　are　so　quick　tempered　and　so　efficiently　violent　usually　have　seen　the　inside　of　a　cage。　At　least　in　this　country。　In　mine；　we　make　them　prime　ministers。〃
　〃Well；　that's　one　against　you；〃　Remo　answered。　〃Never　been　in　prison。　At　least；　not　in　this　life。〃　Which　was　technically　true。
　Boyle　made　a　note　on　a　yellow　pad　with　a　stub　of　a　pencil　held　in　his　big　pink　bricklayer's　hands。　He　looked　up　again。　〃Shall　we　go　on？〃
　〃Can　you　give　me　a　reason　why　we　should？〃
　
　Boyle　walked　to　a　small　refrigerator　in　a　corner　of　his　office。　Remo　declined　a　drink　and　Boyle　poured　himself　a　water　tumbler　full　of　Irish　whisky。　Alcohol　abstinence　was　not　one　of　his　vows。
　〃Sure。　It'll　keep　me　on　the　job　here　and　of　the　parish　bingo　circuit　for　another　year。〃
　〃Fair　enough。〃
　By　the　time　the　tumbler　of　whisky　was　drained；　Remo　had　learned　that　bio…cycle　analysis　was　the　study　of　rhythms　in　men's　lives。　Boyle　contended　that　there　were　unconscious　rhythms　that　determined　behavior。
　〃If　we　can　isolate　those　individual　rhythms；　we　can　understand　behavior。　Maybe　even　predict　or　control　it。〃
　Boyle　showed　Remo　a　bar　chart。　〃See　this　line？〃　he　asked　pointing　to　a　vertical　bar。　〃Accidents　per　10；000　driving　hours　in　a　Tokyo　cab　pany。〃
　〃Now　this　line；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　a　shorter　bar。　〃Accidents　per　10；000　hours　six　months　later。　Why　the　difference？〃
　〃They　probably　hired　German　hackies。　You　ever　see　Japs　drive？〃
　An　honest　laugh　fractured　Boyle's　tomatoed　face。　〃No。　Same　drivers。　But　the　pa