thedestroyer.deathcheck-第11部分

快捷操作: 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! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　〃They　probably　hired　German　hackies。　You　ever　see　Japs　drive？〃
　An　honest　laugh　fractured　Boyle's　tomatoed　face。　〃No。　Same　drivers。　But　the　pany　analyzed　their　body　cycles　and　notified　them　to　be　careful　on　days　that　we　call　'critical。'　Just　that；　and　the　accident　rate's　cut　in　half。　Follow　me？〃
　〃Maybe。　What　kind　of　cycles　are　there？　Do　they　really　control　people？　Do　you　really　believe　in　this　horseshit？〃
　Boyle　went　on　to　explain　that　after　a　half…century　of　study；　scientists　had　isolated　three　cycles：　a　23…day　emotional　cycle；　a　28…day　physical　rhythm　and　a　33…day　intellectual　cycle。　But　now；　with　puters；　science　could　absorb　vast　amounts　of　data　on　enormous　numbers　of　people。　〃If　we　feed　enough　facts　into　the　machinery；　we　may　be　able　to　detect　totally　new　cycles　and　rhythms。　Rhythms　of　love。　Or　hate。〃
　〃Why'd　you　want　to　talk　to　me？〃
　〃Our　basic　study　around　here　is　violence。　You're　the　first　violent　man　we've　had　here　in　years。　A　rarity。　Someone　who　doesn't　intellectualize　everything　to　death。〃
　〃Did　you　study　McCarthy？　The　man　I　replaced？〃
　〃Yes；　I　did。　You　know　he　was　murdered；　don't　you。〃
　Boyle　was　the　second　man　to　tell　Remo　that　McCarthy　had　been　murdered。　He　looked　blankly　at　the　priest。　〃No；　I　didn't　know。　I　thought　he　mitted　suicide。〃
　〃Horseshit；　to　borrow　your　word。　On　the　day　he　was　killed；　McCarthy　was　experiencing　a　very　rare　phenomenon。　His　emotional；　physical　and　intellectual　cycles　all　happened　to　coincide　at　a　peak。　It　should　have　been　the　brightest　day　of　his　life。　Men　don't　mit　suicide　on　days　like　that。〃
　；　〃Who'd　want　to　kill　him？〃　Remo　asked；　watching　Boyle's　face　carefully。　〃As　far　as　I　could　find　out；　he　wasn't　mixed　up　in　anything。　Not　like　blackmail。。。　or　a　porno　ring。〃
　Boyle　showed　no　reaction　at　all。　〃Damned　if　I　know　who　did　him　in。　But　I　hope　you　find　out　who　it　was。　McCarthy　was　a　decent　sort。〃
　Boyle　began　to　ask　Remo　a　string　of　long；　generally　harmless　questions　about　his　life。　Remo　stuck　to　the　fake　biography　of　the　fake　Remo　Pelham。　Whenever　Boyle　got　close　to　Remo's　true　past；　to　CURE；　to　his　mission；　Remo　lied。　It　took　over　an　hour。
　Remo　found　he　was　in　the　fourth　day　of　his　emotional　cycle；　18th　day　of　his　intellectual　cycle　and　15th　day　of　his　physical　cycle。　〃That　explains　yesterday；〃　Boyle　said。　〃It　was　a　day　of　physical　crisis　for　you。　Mid…cycle。　You　were　passing　from　an　up　period　to　a　down　and　were　edgy。
　
　If　the　whole　thing　had　happened　tomorrow；　you　would　have　turned　your　back　and　walked　away。　Unfortunate　for　those　poor　hooligans。〃
　〃For　them？　I　might　have　been　hurt。〃
　〃I　rather　doubt　it；〃　Boyle　said。
　Walking　out　into　the　courtyard　from…　Boyle's　cottage　office；　Remo　was　puzzled。　So　they　were　studying　violence　at　the　Forum。　Big　deal。　Maybe　Brewster's　little　plan　to　conquer　the　world　involved　talking　your　enemy　to　death。　They　sure　as　hell　weren't　going　to　figure　out　everybody's　cycle　and　only　fight　when　the　rhythms　were　on　our　side。
　And　the　pornographic　pictures。　That　was　another　riddle。　Boyle's　blue　eyes　hadn't　wavered　when　Remo　mentioned　blackmail　or　dirty　photos。　Remo　was　convinced　Boyle　knew　nothing　about　the　pictures。　Yet　he　had　obviously　posed　for　them。　Really　posed；　because　the　pictures　were　professionally　lighted　and　shot　from　a　number　of　different　angles。　And　now　he　knew　nothing　about　it。
　If　the　word　came；　Boyle　would　have　to　be　killed　one…on…one。　By　hand。　He　had　no　repetitious　habits；　few　hobbies；　rarely　left　his　cottage。　It　would　have　to　be　an　accident　in　the　house。　Something　with　an　electric　cord　perhaps。　If　the　word　came。　Remo　hoped　it　wouldn't。
　
　CHAPTER　TWELVE
　
　When　Remo　was　a　boy；　he　had　a　fantasy　of　growing　up　to　bee　the　great　white　hunter。　Whatever　was　left　of　the　fantasy　vanished　when　the　rhinoceros　charged　and　crushed　the　chained　jackal　under　his　3；000　pounds　of　weight。　The　jackal　left　hardly　a　smear。
　Remo　continued　to　watch　the　film　in　fascination　as　the　camera　lens　was　changed　and　the　rhino　receded　in　the　distance。　Then；　stepping　into　the　film　came　Dr。　Abram　Schulter；　his　long；　sparse　black　hair　stringing　down　from　a　pith　helmet。　He　carried　a　small　black　box；　but　it　looked　large　in　his　birdlike　hands。
　He　began　to　walk　toward　the　rhino；　shouting　as　he　went。　Occasionally　he　stopped　and　waved　his　helmet　to　try　to　attract　the　near…sighted　beast's　attention。　When　he　was　no　more　than　thirty　yards　away；　he　stopped　and　began　yelling　again。
　Finally；　the　rhinoceros　charged。　His　hooves　made　the　ground　beneath　the　camera　vibrate　as　he　thundered　from　the　right　side　of　the　screen　toward　the　puny　figure　of　Schulter　standing　defenseless　on　the　left　side　of　the　screen。　Schulter　looked　up；　seemed　to　watch　the　rhino　for　a　split　second；　then　flicked　a　switch　on　top　of　the　box。　The　rhino　stopped　as　if　he'd　run　into　an　invisible　wall。
　He　stopped　dead　and　stood　there；　ten　yards　away　from　Schulter。　Not　moving。　The　film　faded；　the　next　frames　showed　the　rhino　lying　down　eating　grass　and　Schulter　sitting　on　its　back。　The　beast　couldn't　have　cared　less。
　Remo　was　impressed；　but　he　couldn't　resist　a　grin　and　the　thought；　this　screwball　will　mount　anything；　toy　giraffes；　rhinoceroses；　anything。　Mothers　in　the　neighborhood　should　lock　up　their　rubber　duckies。
　The　lights　came　on。　Wearing　a　doctor's　gown；　Abram　Schulter；　M。D。；　Ph。　D。；　Fellow　of；　Diplomate　of；　pioneer　of　this　and　that　and　everything　else；　came　paddling　toward　Remo　on　ripple…soled　shoes　and　began　lifting　the　blinds　to　let　sunlight　into　the　darkened　office。
　〃And　so　that's　what　we　do；〃　he　said；　as　if　the　film　explained　everything。
　〃You　mean；　you're　a　rhinoceros　trainer？〃
　〃A　rhinoceros　trainer？　No；　why　should　I　be？　Oh　yes；　I　see。　A　little　joke。　Yes；　yes。　Very　good。　Very　good　indeed。〃
　He　went　on：　〃No；　no。　Electronic　brain　stimulation。　The　box　in　my　hand　was　a　radio。　It　sent　a　signal　that　stimulated　alpha　waves　in　the　brain　of　the　rhino。　Such　a　brain　as　it　has；　that　is。　Alpha　rhythms　bring　inner　peace。　Don't　suppose　you'd　be　interested？〃
　Schulter　walked　from　the　window　and　sat　down　on　the　other　side　of　the　coffee　table　facing　Remo。　He　took。　a　cigarette　from　a　wooden　box　on　the　table　and　lit　it。　His　hands　were　deeply　nicotine　stained；　and　like　all　pulsive　smokers；　he　didn't　offer　Remo　one。
　Remo　leaned　forward　and　took　one　anyway；　even　though　it　was　a　violation　of　his　rules　at　peak。　He　lit　it　with　a　lighter　on　the　table；　and　then　put　the　lighter　and　the　box　back　on　Schulter's　side　of　the　table。　He　inhaled　deeply；　careful　not　to　let　the　smoke　change　his　breathing　rhythm；　exhaled　for　exactly　two　beats；　and　then　looked　at　Schulter。
　〃I'm　no　rhinoceros。　I'm　not　even　a　toy　giraffe。　What　do　you　want　with　me？〃
　〃Well；　you　know。　I　saw　you　in　the　yard　with　those　silly…looking　putzes。　I　mean。　Such　violence。　I　thought　you　might　like　to　find　inner　peace。　Would　you？〃
　〃Could　I？〃
　〃Certainly。　All　I　would　need　to　do　is　plant　electrodes　inside　your…skull。　Very　simple　really。〃
　〃Has　anyone　ever　offered　to　plant　his　foot　up　your　ass？〃
　Schulter　sighed。　〃Very　mon　response。　Not　unusual　at　all。〃　He　puffed　rapidly　on　his　cigarette；　then　leaned　forward；　picked　up　the　cigarette　box；　turned　it　in　his　hand　as　if　examining　it　and　then　replaced　it　precisely　in　the　center　of　the　table。　He　did　the　s…ame　with　the　lighter。
　〃Well；　at　any　rate；〃　he　said。　〃I　just　thought　I'd　ask。　What　I'd　really　like　is　to　get　the　flow　of　your　brain　waves　under　stimulation。　Very　simple　really。〃
　〃What　kind　of　stimulation？；〃　Remo　asked。
　〃Just　photos　flashed　on　a　screen；〃　Schulter　said。
　〃Why　me？〃　Remo　asked。
　〃Why　not？　You're　new　here。　I've　done　everybody　else。〃　Schulter　vanished　into　a　large　cabinet　at　the　other　end　of　the　room；　and　came　out　bearing　a　metal　half…helmet　and　a　film　cartridge　that　he　placed　in　the　movie　projector。
　The　metal　helmet　had　a　long　cord　attached　to　it；　which　Schulter　plugged　into　a　console　panel　on　the　other　side　of　the　room。
　He　flicked　two　switches　and　the　round　eye　of　an　oscilloscope　lit　up　with　a　hum　at　the　top　of　the　console。
　〃Helmet's　an　induction　microphone　really；〃　Schulter　said；　handing　it　to　Remo。　〃Instead　of　sound；　it　picks　up　tiny　electrical　impulses　from　your　brain。　They're　visible　on　the　scope；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　console；　〃and　also　on　a　paper　tape。　For　record　keeping。〃
　Remo　felt　the　helmet。　He　had　seen　one　like　it　before。　It　had　been　lowered　over　his　head　when　he　was　strapped　into　the　electric　chair　at　the　New　Jersey　State　Prison。
　Schulter　was　still　explaining。　〃You　put　the　helmet　on　and　watch　the　screen。　Pictures　appear；　at　prescribed　intervals；　and　the　tape　records　the　change　in　brain　pattern　from　the　stimulus。　Quite　harmless。〃
　Remo　shrugged　and　sat　in　the　chair。　Gingerly；　he　lowered　the　helmet　over　his　head　and　looked　up　at　the　screen。　Flashing　through　his　mind　was　a　ritual　of　Chiun's。　Chiun　would　sit　in　the　lotus　position　and　hum；　a　single　steady　low　pitched　note；　that　he　claimed　drained　the　brain　and　body　of　tension。　Remo　suspected　that　it　stimulated　the　frequency　of　brain…calming　alpha　waves；　perhaps　through　the　direct　vibration　of　the　jawbone　against　the　brain　cavity；　forcing　the　brain　into　producing　them。
　Schulter　sat　down　at　the　console　with　his　back　to　Remo。　The　oscilloscope　was　fully　warmed　now　and　its　hum　echoed　through　the　room。　Schulter　flicked　another　switch　and　the　film　engaged。　Remo　cleared　his　brain　of　distractions　and；　tried　to　emulate　the　low；　humming　note　that　he　had　heard　Chiun　emit　many　times。
　A　picture　lit　up　the　screen。　A　field　of　flowers　gentled　by　the　breeze；　birds　flying　overhead　in　the　sky。　A　control　film　probably　to　get　a　typical　rested　reaction　from　the　subject　against　which　the　others　could　be　pared。
　Remo　hummed；　his　sound　masked　by　the　oscilloscope。
　After　twenty　seconds；　the　flower　scene　gave　way　to　a　splash　of　red。　The　camera　faded　back　and　the　red　turned　out　to　be　a　blotch　of　blood　on　the　white…shirted　chest　of　a　dead　man；　his　eyes　open；　his　face　grinning　idiotically。
　Remo　hummed。
　The　next　picture　showed　munist　Chinese　methodically　gunning　down　Korean　villagers　standing　against　a　wall。
　Remo　hummed。
　The　fourth　scene　showed　a　child　cringing　and　then　a　burly　man　slapping　the　little　child；　hard；　hard　enough　to　make　the　child's　head　snap　back　and　forth。
　Remo　hummed。
　Schulter　flipped　a　switch　and　the　projector　stopped。　Others　switches　turned　off　the　console。　The　scientist　stood　up　and　looked　at　the　long　string　of　paper　tape　in　his　hands。　Remo　stood　up　and　took　the　helmet　off。
　〃Did　I　pass？〃
　Startled；　Schulter　looked　up。　〃Oh；　yes。　Yes。　Quite　good；　really。　Highly　stable。〃
　Remo　tried　to　leer。　〃Maybe　you　should　have　showed　me　some　pornography。　Whips　and　boots。　You　know。　That　might　have　helped。〃
　Schulter's　reaction　was　none　at　all。　If　the　helmet　had　been　on　his　head；　there　would　have　been　no　change。　Pornography　was　just　a　word　to　him。　He　knew　nothing。　Nothing　about　pornography。　Nothing　about　toy　giraffes。　Nothing　about　a　wild…eyed；　black…haired　woman　with　boots　and　a　whip。
　〃Perhaps　we'll　do　the　test　again。　Most　often；　it's　best。〃
　〃Well；　perhaps　some　other　time；　Doctor。〃
　Schulter　waved　Remo　out　of　the　cottage；　absently；　still　studying　the　paper　tape。　He　looked　up　as　Remo　left；　staring　at　the　broad　back　of　the　chief　of　security。　Remo　was　smiling。　And