thedestroyer.deathcheck-第20部分

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　〃Do　you　need　help？〃
　〃I。。。。〃　Remo　paused。　〃Couldn't　make　the　phone　call　to　the　police。〃
　〃That's　all　right。　I　understand。　You've　been　through　hell。　It's　a　very　difficult　job　to　be　security　officer。〃
　〃I　don't　know　if　I　can；　can　continue　in　the　job。　Not　now。〃
　〃Yes；　you　can；〃　Brewster　said　firmly。　〃Because　we're　doubling　your　salary。　You're　the　first　policeman　good　enough　for　the　job。　And　that's　that。　Don't　say　no。　I　know　men。　You're　the　first　one　good　enough　for　Brewster　Forum。　I'll　make　the　phone　call　to　the　police。〃
　Remo　thanked　Dr。　Brewster　who　fumbled　a　dime　into　the　telephone　and　dialed　the　emergency　number　listed　on　the　board　above　the　coin　slots。　He　winked　at　Remo；　made　an　okay　sign　with　his　right　hand；　and　began　to　babble　incoherently　into　the　receiver。
　Remo　waved　at　Brewster；　who　was　gesticulating　wildly　with　his　free　hand；　as　he　shouted　into　the　phone：　〃Dead。　Aaah。　Dead。　Ooooh。　Help。　Dead。　Brewster　Forum。　Blood。〃
　And　Remo　sauntered　off；　flatfooted；　off　balance　and　laughing　at　himself。　The　flush　of　relaxation　might　have　explained　why　he　was　about　to　enter　the　first　black…out　period　of　his　life。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…ONE
　
　The　man　once　known　as　Dr。　Hans　Frichtmann　examined　the　new　negatives。　The　lighting　was　not　as　good　as　on　the　others；　but　it　would　do。　And　the　set　was　plete。　He　would　take　pains　that　no　illiterate　cop　would　steal　these　as　McCarthy　must　have　done　with　the　first　set。　An　insignificant　Irish　life　for　a　brilliant　plan。　Funny　how　a　flea　could　clog　a　great　engine。
　〃Well；　no　matter。　The　Jewess　had　been　the　last。　One　could　almost　develop　a　fondness　for　the　animals　if　they　were　not　so　annoying。
　The　average　German　had　not　understood。　They　had　reaped　the　benefits；　but　they　did　not　want　to　know　about　the　dirty　work。　They　had　almost　made　the　world　Jew…free；　and　did　the　world　appreciate　it？　How　did　they　expect　them　to　get　rid　of　Jews　if　not　by　gassing　them　and　burning　them？
　Oh；　certainly　everyone　at　home　cheered　when　you　were　on　top　and　they　did　not　have　to　get　their　sweet　little　hands　dirty。　But　when　you　lost；　the　shock。　No　one　was　political。
　Not　when　you　lost。　But　they　had　cheered　you　when　you　were　winning。　Did　they　expect　the　Jews　to　disappear　without　mass　killing？　Just　by　wishing？　Of　course；　it　was　unpleasant。　That　was　the　price　one　must　pay。　There　were　even　some　Jews　he　would　have　saved　if　he　could。　Some　he　respected　more　than　Germans。　But　if　you　started　making　an　exception　here　and　an　exception　there；　then　where　were　you？　Jews。　All　over。
　He　didn't　ask　for　the　Jews　to　be　in　the　world。　He　hadn't　put　them　there。　Hadn't　made　them　like　they　were。　He　was　building　a　better　world。　And　if　it　took　some　unpleasantness；　then　certain　brave　people　would　do　it。　Nobody　had　seen　the　Germany　he　had　seen　or　lived　in　the　Germany　he　had　lived　in。　Chaos。　Disorder。　Der　Fuhrer　had　ended　it　and　given　Germany　back　its　soul。
　But　the　Germans　had　failed　the　party　and　the　nation。　Because　they　were　not　worthy　of　their　heritage。　A　little　trouble　and　they　collapsed；　and　then　every　one　of　the　little　hypocrites　ran　around　saying　he　didn't　know；　he　was　sorry。　Well；　they　were　not　strong　enough　to　know；　only　to　reap　the　benefits。　They　could　have　known。　The　evidence　was　there。
　Where　did　they　think　all　the　Jews　went　that　disappeared　in　box　cars？　To　Grossinger's？
　He　had　to　laugh　at　that。　Even　the　generals　in　their　cars　and　with　their　fancy　servants。　Turning　their　heads；　going　through　convulsions　not　to　see　the　blood　that　he　had　to　live　through　daily。　And　he　was　a　doctor。　But　he　was　a　German　and　a　Nazi。
　Their　clean　hands。　The　swine。　Looking　down　on　him。　How　dare　they；　those　generals？　He　remembered　a　night　at　Horcher's　in　Berlin。　It　had　been　furlough　from　the　camp　in　Poland。　He　had　sent　a　drink　to　the　young　staff　officer；　sitting　with　his　lady　friend　at　the　next　table。　The　drink　had　e　back　untouched。
　〃What？　An　officer　from　the　Afrika　Corps　refusing　a　drink？　I've　never　heard　of　such　a　thing。〃
　He　said　this　with　as　much　warmth　as　possible。　They　were　all　Germans　after　all；　especially　under　the　new　order。　He　had　gone　through　medical　school；　the　son　of　a　carpenter。　So　the　officer　obviously　was　aristocracy。　But　what　did　that　mean　now？　In　the　new　Germany；　they　were　all　one。　One　race。　The　master　race。
　〃Will　you　not　share　a　drink　with　a　fellow　officer？〃　he　had　asked。　And　the　arrogant　swine　had　answered：
　〃With　a　fellow　officer　I　would。〃
　That　had　done　it。　〃You　think　you　are　so　fine　in　here；　eating　the　best　of　foods；　drinking　the　best　of　wines。　Why　do　you　live　so　well？　Because　of　me。〃
　The　officer　had　tried　to　ignore　him。　But　one　could　not　ignore　a　man　who　refused　to　be　ignored**
　〃I　see　your　lady　friend　eats　delicately。　In　our　camps　we　do　not　have　the　luxury　of　delicacy。　We　must　have　the　gold　teeth　pulled　out　of　the　heads　of　Jews　because　Germany　needs　the　money。　To　pay　you　and　put　wine　on　your　table。　The　fatherland　needs　the　hair　of　Jew　children　and　the　clothes　of　the　processed　people。
　〃Who　do　you　think　is　putting　the　food　on　that　table？　I　am。　By　killing　the　inferior　races　so　that　you　can　live　in　your　delicate　fort。　Do　you　know　what　it　is　like　to　rip　out　someone's　testicles？　But　I　must；　so　we　will　know　more　about　reproduction　for　your　fort。
　〃Hey；　high…class　lady！　Have　you　ever　seen　so　many　people　in　a　ditch；　that　the　blood　seeps　up　through　the　earth　that　covers　it？　Does　that　go　well　with　your　chocolate　mousse？　Eh？　How　does　that　go？〃
　They　had　left；　of　course。　Run　away；　leaving　the　dirty　work　for　men　strong　enough　to　do　it。　Naturally；　he　had　been　arrested　that　night　for　disorderly　conduct　and　given　a　stern　rebuke　for　his　loose　tongue。　But　doctors　were　scarce。　And　the　SS　understood；　　espite　what　was　said　of　them　after　the　war。
　He　put　the　negatives　back　in　the　envelope。　With　these；　he　had　just　the　wedge　to　give　his　new　employers　who；　as　coincidence　would　have　it；　were　also　building　a　great　new　world。　With　these；　one　could　easily　begin　to　work　effectively。　Oh；　not　to　get　anything　major　all　at　once；　but　to　force　a　scientist　to　take　a　visit　to　a　city　in　another　country　and　just　talk*　about　things。　These　photos　could　enslave　America's　greatest　brains　for　their　entire　lifetimes。
　A　perfect　plan。　Almost　ruined　by　that　Irish　cop；　but　salvaged。　The　new　policeman？　Well；　he　was　something　？　more。　Luckier　than　McCarthy　and　better。　But　still　only　a　policeman　and　it　was　too　late　for　him　to　do　anything　anyway。　Dr。　Hans　Frichtmann　allowed　himself　a　touch　of　regret　that　he　would　not　be　around　long　enough　to　teach　a　final　permanent　lesson　to　Remo　Pelham。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO
　
　First　there　was　the　note。
　Deborah　was　not　home。　The　door　was　unlocked；　her　cottage　empty　of　her；　and　a　note　on　the　desk；　sealed　in　an　envelope　with　Remo's　name　on　it。　The　bitch。　The　little　Jew　bitch。　That　little　whore　Remo　had　been　willing　to　die　for；　just　to　screw。　She　probably　gave　it　away　for　shekels。
　Smith　had　been　right。　He　had　been　descending　so　fast　that　he　was　incapable　of　correct　judgment。　She　had　given　him　a　feel　and　sidestepped　him。　Quick　and　neat。
　Well；　he　would　find　her。　He　would　find　Miss　Quick　and　Neat　and　break　her　arm。　Just　to　let　you　know；　baby；　you　ain't　that　good。　No。　Never　mind。　He　would　read　the　note　and　leave。　And　if　he　ever　saw　her　again；　he　would　kill　her；　because　she　would　recognize　him。
　He　ripped　open　the　envelope；　not　bothering　to　turn　on　the　light　but　reading　from　the　late　afternoon　sun　ing　vaguely　through　the　windows。
　〃Darling　Remo。〃
　Oh；　what　a　little　bullshitter　she　was。　Cunt。　
　〃I　never　told　you　why　I　especially　loved　Conn　Mac…Cleary。〃
　Because　he　screwed　you　when　you　were　three。　〃I　was　an　ugly　child；　with　many　freckles。　Youngsters　as　you　know　can　be　cruel。〃　As　opposed　to　women。
　〃The　other　children　tormented　me　because　of　my　freckles。　My　nickname　was　the　Hebrew　children's　equivalent　of　shit…face。〃
　Even　then　they　knew。
　〃One　day；　Conn　heard　the　remark。　And　he　looked　surprised。　'Do　you　know；'　he　said；　'that　a　woman　without　freckles　is　like　a　night　without　stars？'　And　of　course　the　other　children　said；　but　what　about　a　girl？　And　he　told　them　that　a　girl　with　freckles　is　like　the　dawn　of　life；　the　beauty　of　a　new　day；　and　she　is　so　beautiful　that　like　the　shining　sun；　some　people　could　not　see　the　beauty　right　away。　I　guess　that　started　it。　I　just　always　believed　I　would　be　beautiful　and　there　is　nothing　like　that　to　encourage　the　reality　of　it。　That　started　my　swelled　head；　of　course。　Conn　probably　had　a　bag　on；　I　don't　remember。　But　that　sort　of　talk　is　easy　to　take。　In　any　case；　Remo；　I　grew　up　in　a　house　where　every　so　often　my　father　would　leave。　And　although　they　did　not　want　that　life　for　me；　I　followed　it。　I　guess　I　had　to　follow　it。　Maybe　I　wanted　to　follow　it。　You　see　enough　numbers　tattooed　on　people's　arms　and　hear　enough　stories　and　you　know　what　you　must　do。　〃That　is　what　has　brought　me　here。　One　of　them。　Have　you　ever　heard　of　Hans　Frichtmann？　The　butchei　of　Treblinka？　Here　at　the　Forum。
　〃I　should　not　tell　you　this；　but　it　is　of　no　matter。　I　have　already　made　so　many　mistakes　since　meeting　you；　telling　you　this　in　print　probably　will　not　matter。　I　love　you；　Remo。　And　if　I　saw　you　again；　I　would　be　hopelessly　in　love。　And　because　you　are　who　you　are　and　I　am　who　I　am；　this　could　not　be。　Maybe　I　am　deluding　myself　into　believing　that　you　were　not　deluding　me。　If　you　were；　I　salute　you。　But　this　delusion；　then；　of　your　love；　I　will　cherish　until　the　last　long　night　without　stars。
　〃I　guess　all　of　us　carry　our　histories　like　crosses　and　our　destinies　like　fools。　But　occasionally；　we　must　succumb　to　logic。　And　the　logic　of　our　situation　is　that　our　love　would　destroy　us。　If　we　could　only　shake　our　duties　like　old　dust。　But　we　cannot。　Mad　dogs　yet　roam　the　world　and　for　those　we　love；　we　must　search　them　out；　fighting　all　the　time　to　keep　our　humanity　despite　the　pressures　to　fight　dogs　like　dogs。
　〃We　gave　each　other　only　an　hour　and　a　promise。　Let　us　cherish　that　hour　in　the　small　places　which　keep　us　kind。　You　are　kind　and　good　and　really　very　gentle。　Do　not　let　your　enemies　ever　destroy　that；　darling。　For　as　surely　as　the　Jordan　flows；　we　shall；　if　we　maintain　that　goodness；　meet　again　in　that　morning　that　never　ends。　This　is　our　promise　that　we　will　keep。　I　love　you；　Remo。　〃Deborah。〃
　Well；　shit。　That's　a　woman　for　you。　Of　course；　she　loved　him。　How　else　could　she　call　him　kind　and　good　and　gentle？　The　utter　silliness　of　it　all。　Remo　read　the　letter　again　and　felt　very　good。　Then　he　tore　it　up；　because　precautions　were　precautions；　and　lit　the　pieces　with　a　match。　She　was　obviously　finishing　her　assignment；　and　Remo　would；　as　he　painfully　knew；　only　be　in　the　way　of　it。　So　the　simple　thing　was　to　go　to　Dayton；　and　then　buy　a　ticket　to　Chicago；　and　there　find　someone　who　vaguely　looks　like　you　and　who　has　a　passport。　Then　kindly；　good　and　gentle　Remo　Williams　would　work　something　on　the　poor　bastard；　and　be　out　of　the　country　and　headed　toward　Israel　and　that　town　in　the　Negev。
　He　would　go　there；　find　her　parents；　and　wait。　He　would　tell　her　parents　to　mention　some　phrase　from　the　note。　And　she　would　e　running　home。　CURE　would　find　him　though。　Well；　he'd　work　something　out。　All　this　think　and　counterthink　had　been　a　bother　anyway。　Hell；　maybe　he'd　just　find