thedestroyer.deathcheck-第18部分

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mained　addicted　to　theory；　it　being　so　much　cleaner　and　neater。
　He　received　a　science　degree　from　Harvard　and　a　doctorate　in　theoretical　chemistry　from　M。I。T。　His　senior　thesis　won　him　international　fame　and　his　evening　activities　earned　him　three　suspended　sentences　for　contributing　to　the　delinquency　of　minors。　To　get　the　last　two　sentences　suspended　was　extremely　expensive；　exhausting　his　inheritance。　This　meant　he　could　not　continue　toward　his　doctorate　in　mathematics。　He　would　have　to　teach。　Teaching　meant　constantly　dealing　with　people；　perhaps　as　much　as　five　hours　a　week。
　Then　came　Brewster　Forum。　He　could　design　his　own　cottage。　Of　course；　Dr。　Brewster　understood　how　people's　tastes　varied　and　why　not　be　sensible？　And　Dr。　James　Ratchett　found　a　home；　and　sometimes　even　an　audience　for　his　hypnotism　which　he　had　learned　as　a　child　under　the　mistaken　impression　that　it　would　guarantee　him　endless　lovers。
　But　the　hypnotism　of　the　night　before　had　left　a　malignant；　gnawing　remembrance　of　something　just　about　to　be　remembered；　but　reluctant　to　e　forward。　It　was　a　cry　of　ready　or　not；　here　I　e；　and　then　nothing　came。
　So。　He　would　wrestle　it　away　from　his　memory。　To　do　so；　one　must　be　prepared。　You　do　not　grab　a　thought　like　a　little　boy's　neck。　You　tease　it；　coax　it。　Ignore　it。　You　make　yourself　very　fortable　without　it　and　then　it　jumps　forward　to　join　the　party。
　Dr。　James　Ratchett　undressed　and　left　his　clothes　outside　his　very　special　room。　It　was　a　masterpiece　of　engineering；　that　room；　a　white　bowl　shape；　upholstered　all　around　with　white　vinyl；　over　a　layer　of　water　that　cushioned　the　floors　and　the　rounded　walls　as　high　up　as　a　man　could　reach。　Ratchett's　acquaintances　called　it　his　womb…room　but　he　thought　of　it　as　his　den。
　Into　the　room；　he　had　brought　his　pipe　with　a　sliver　of　hashish。　The　pipe　lit　when　he　pressed　a　button；　and　Ratchett　brought　the　smoke　deep　down　into　his　lungs　and　held　his　breath。　He　became　aware　of　his　limbs：　how　distant　they　were　and　how　he　was　holding　his　breath。　He　was　holding　his　breath　forever　and　his　head　felt　nothing。　Nothing　was　what　he　felt　in　his　head　and　he　just　let　the　air　out　because　he　felt　like　it。　But　he　didn't　have　to。　He　could　have　held　the　air　in　for　hours。　Yes。　And　deep　in　again。　My；　so　cool　it　was。　He　listened　to　the　coolness　of　the　room　and　felt　the　vinyl　on　the　ceiling　with　his　eyes　and　suddenly　his　white　womb　was　very　funny。　Here　he　was　in　a　water　mish…mesh。
　〃Mish…mesh；〃　he　said　and　laughed　hysterically。　〃Mish…mesh；〃　he　said　again；　wishing　he　had　someone　in　the　room　who　could　appreciate　the　humor　of　the　joke。
　
　And　the　vinyl　covered　door　opened。　And　that　was　a　woman。　Yes。　Really　a　woman。　Perhaps　she　had　e　for　a　drag。　Perhaps　he　would　offer　her　some。　But　he　would　not　talk　to　her　at　all。　No　talking。
　Oh；　she　was　undressed　too；　and　she　carried　a　whip　and　where　he　had　a　thing；　she　just　had　a　brownish…blond　blotch。　He　would　show　her。　He　would　not　get　an　erection。　He　never　could。　But　then　she　was　doing　something　and　he　had　something。　And　then　he　took　another　drag；　and　then。。。。　Cut。　A　scream。　Rip。
　Dr。　James　Ratchett　grabbed　at　his　stinging　numb　groin　and　nothing　was　there　but　warm　wet　blood；　gushing　wet　blood；　splattering　around　him　on　the　white　vinyl；　making　standing　slippery；　and　he　fell；　and　grabbed　desperately　looking　for　something　to　stop　the　blood。
　〃Oooh；　oooh；〃　the　cries　came　out　of　his　lungs；　as　he　slithered　around　his　room；　toward　the　door。　Reach　it。　Out。　Help。　But　it　was　locked；　and　Dr。　James　Ratchett　slid　back　toward　the　center　of　the　room　and　found　he　could　not　even　bite　his　way　out；　as　he　chewed　into　the　vinyl　harder　and　harder；　and　then　his　teeth　tore　a　hole　in　the　vinyl；　and　water　spilled　in；　mixing　with　his　blood；　and　he　sloshed　around　in　the　pink　puddle；　in　the　agony　of　red　death。
　And　then　he　remembered　where　he　saw　her　and　who　had　taken　the　pictures　and　why　she　had　now　killed　him。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY
　
　Nils　Brewster　was　in　a　sweat。　His　tumbleweed　hair　was　matted　with　moisture。　His　arms　flailed　and　his　mouth　moved　violently　as　it　shrieked　out　sounds　at　Remo。　He　had　stopped　Remo　on　the　gravel　driveway　near　Deborah's　cottage　just　as　the　sun　moved　overhead　into　noon。　It　was　Remo's　day　off　peak。
　〃Oooh。　Oooh。　Oho；〃　said　the　world's　foremost　authority　on　the　dynamics　of　hostility；　the　man　who　had　written　what　many　considered　to　be　the　definitive　work　on　mass　murder。　〃Uh。。。　uh。。。　uh；〃　he　added；　and　then　collapsed　at　Remo's　feet。
　It　was　panic　all　right。　Remo　knelt　down　and　let　Brewster　recover。　There　was　no　danger　of　shock。
　Soon　Brewster　opened　his　eyes。　〃Ratchett。　Oooh。　Ahhh。　Oho。〃
　It　would　be　no　use　to　tell　Brewster　to　calm　down。　Only　idiots　offered　that　sort　of　advice　to　panicky　people。　To　tell　someone　to　calm　down　when　he　was　panicked　was　to　tell　him　that　you　were　not　aware　of　the　seriousness　of　the
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　situation。　That　the　situation　could　not　be　improved　by　panic　was　of　little　import。　The　person　had　something　so　awesome　to　convey　that　he　was　unable　to　convey　it。　To　keep　your　head　while　he　lost　his　only　let　him　know　that　he　was　not　getting　through　to　you；　and　made　him　try　even　harder　with　less　success。
　So　Remo　did　what　he　knew　was　right；　even　though　he　did　not　wish　Deborah　to　see　it　from　her　window　if　she　was　standing　there。
　He　repeated　Brewster's　desperate　yell。　〃Ooooh。　Ahhhh。　Oho；〃　he　shouted；　looking　directly　into　Brewster's　eyes。
　Remo　joined　Brewster　in　his　hysteria；　in　order　to　bring　Brewster　back　with　him　to　coherency。。
　〃Ratchett；〃　Remo　gasped。
　〃Ratchett；〃　Brewster　gasped。　〃Dead。〃
　〃Ratchett　is　dead；〃　Remo　moaned。
　〃Ratchett　murdered。　Blood。〃
　〃Ratchett　has　been　murdered。　There's　lots　of　blood。〃
　And　Brewster　nodded　and　said：　〃I　went　to　his　place　just　now。　His　special　place。　He　was　dead。　Blood　and　water。　He　was　dead。　You。〃
　〃Me。〃
　〃Yes。　Do　something。〃
　〃Good。　I'll　do　something。〃
　〃Walls。　Fences。　Machine　guns。　Help　us。〃
　〃Yes；　yes。　Of　course。　Help　you。　Machine　guns。　Fences。　Walls。〃
　〃Yes。　Get　the　killers。　Get　them。　Kill　them。　Destroy　them。　Bomb　them。〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃But　don't　let　the　police　know。〃；
　〃No；　no。　Of　course　not。〃
　〃Good；〃　said　Nils　Brewster。　His　eyes　wide；　he　rose　to　Ms　feet。　〃We'll　go　now。〃
　
　He　was　still　unsteady　as　they　crossed　the　small　bridge　over　the　brook　and　Remo　gently　guided　him　by　applying　light　pressure　to　an　elbow。
　〃Is　that　his　house？；〃　Remo　asked；　looking　at　the　large　white　egg　with　windows。
　Brewster　nodded。　〃I　didn't　see　him　this　morning。　We　had　a　9　o'clock　appointment　and　he's　always　punctual。　I　just　wanted　to　explain　to　him　that　I　thought　his　hypnotism　had　gone　far　enough　and　that　we　should　look　for　some　other　form　of　his　artistic　expression。　But　he　didn't　show　up；　and　he　didn't　answer　the　phone。　So　I　came　here。　He　has　a　special　room；　an　obvious　imitation　of　his　concept　of　womb。　And　he　was　there；　and　the　door　was　jammed　from　the　outside。〃
　The　sun　played　over　the　house；　as　they　approached　it；　as　if　boiling　it　for　an　egg　salad　lunch。
　〃I　like　it；〃　Remo　said。
　〃Nobody　likes　it。〃
　〃I　like　it。　I　think　it's　a　hell　of　an　idea　for　a　home。〃
　〃It's　grotesque；〃　Brewster　said。
　〃That's　your　opinion。〃
　〃That's　the　opinion　of　everyone　in　Brewster　Forum。〃
　〃No；　it's　not。〃
　〃No？　Who　likes　it？〃
　〃I　like　it。〃
　〃Oh；　you。　Well；　I'm　talking　about　everyone。〃
　〃I'm　someone。〃
　〃You're　our　security　officer。〃
　〃But　I'm　a　someone。〃
　〃Yes。　All　right。　If　you　want　to　look　at　it　that　way。　He's　in　there。　I　touched　nothing。〃　Brewster　stood　at　the　entrance。　The　door　was　ajar。
　Remo　nodded。　〃It's　really　hard　to　refrain　from　panic　in　a　situation　like　this；〃　Brewster　said。　〃You　may　not　have　noticed；　but　I　was　on　the　verge　of　panic。　Fortunately；　I　have　incredible　self…control。　But　this　pushed　me　to　my　limit。〃
　〃Okay；〃　Remo　said　softly。　Like　most　panic　victims；　Brewster　had　no　recollection　of　his　actions。　He　would　not　even　remember　fainting。　〃Stay　here；　Nils。〃
　〃Call　me　Dr。　Brewster。〃　He　leaned　against　the　door　frame；　still　shaking。　〃We'd　be　in　an　awful　fix　if　I　were　the　type　to　lose　my　head；〃　he　said。
　〃Yes；　Dr。　Brewster；　we　would；〃　Remo　said。
　〃Call　me　Nils；〃　Brewster　said。　Remo　smiled　reassuringly　and　went　into　the　living　room。　He　spotted　the　fireplace　opening　to　Ratchett's　special　retreat。　There　was　Ratchett；　nude；　his　body　half　covered　in　a　pink　puddle　of　water　and　blood。　His　face　was　a　final　set　mask　of　horror。　Remo　reached　in；　careful　not　to　slosh　around　in　the　liquid；　and　flipped　Ratchett　over。　So　much　for　how　they　did　it。　Now　they　had　attacked　the　scientists；　and　to　save　them　it　might　be　necessary　to　kill　them。　If　he　called　the　police　now；　the　next　passage　from　Dial…a…Prayer　might　well　be　Deuteronomy。　Remo　stepped　back　carefully　and　picked　up　Ratchett's　phone。　It　was　a　vulnerable　phone。　But　he　was　not　doing　business。
　He　dialed　information；　got　the　number　of　Dr。　Deborah　Hirshbloom；　and　dialed　it。　The　phone　rang。　And　rang。　And　rang。　Remo　looked　to　the　ceiling　without　seeing；　looked　to　the　floor　without　seeing　and　whistled　impatiently。　And　the　phone　rang。
　〃Shit；〃　he　said　and　hung　up。
　He　went　outside。
　〃Shocking；　wasn't　it？〃　said　Brewster。
　〃What？〃　said　Remo；　his　mind　still　on　the　phone　call。
　〃You　look　upset。〃
　〃Oh。　Yes。　Shocking　scene。　Awful。〃　
　〃If　you　were　as　familiar　with　violence　and　its　dynamics　as　a　human　form　of　expression；　if　you　were　as　familiar　with　it　as　I　am；　it　might　have　been　easier　for　you；　son。〃
　〃I　suppose　so；〃　Remo　said。　Dammit；　she　wasn't　home。　This　was　his　day　off　peak。　And　he　planned　to　spend　it　with　her。　All　day　and　all　night。　And　now　she　wasn't　home。
　Dr。　Brewster　reached　for　something　in　his　pocket；　and　brought　out　a　pipe　and　a　ripped　bag　of　tobacco。　〃How　the　hell　did　this　happen？〃　he　said；　looking　at　the　ripped　pouch　as　if　it　had　betrayed　him。　〃My　pants　are　dirty　too。　I　must　have　brushed　against　something。〃　He　lit　his　pipe。
　〃Violence　is　a　strange　thing；〃　Dr。　Brewster　said；　musing　on　the　smoke。　〃Many　people　never　learn　to　accept　it　as　a　part　of　life。〃
　She　was　supposed　to　be　home。　All　right；　maybe　she　had　just　gone　out　for　something。　Maybe　she　was　just　being　funny。　Playing　a　game。　Or　maybe　she　had　changed　her　mind。　The　bitch。　The　little　Israeli　bitch　had　changed　her　mind。
　The　two　men　went　back　to　the　forum　center；　the　scientist　talking；　musing；　explaining；　pontificating；　placing　the　elements　of　life　and　death　in　intellectual　perspective。　Remo　Williams　was　planning。　If　she　was　just　trying　to　make　him　wait；　he　would　be　very　casual。　Say　that　he　wasn't　sure　of　the　time。　Was　she　late？　Oh。　Or　maybe　he'd　disappear　for　a　while　and　be　late　himself。　No。　He'd　see　her　and　tell　her　she　was　immature。
　〃You　see；〃　Brewster　explained。　〃Even　though　you　are　a　policeman；　you　have　not　fully　accepted　the　fact　of　violence　as　an　integral　part　of　man's　life。　You　have　not　e　to　terms　with　the　very　obvious　fact　that　man　is　a　killer。　And　his　greatest　game　is　man　himself。　A　predator。　Only　late　in　development　did　he　bee　herbivorous。　The　overreaction　against　violence　in　more　backward　American　munities　is　an　eruption　of　the　sublimation　of　violence。　Which　is　really　not　sick。　Violence　is　healthy；　human。　Vital。〃
　Maybe　he　would　call　her　a　kike　and　just　walk　away。　But　what…if　she　laughed　when　he　said　that？　Worse；