璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第118部分

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it；　and　somehow　it　seemed　likely　that　the　eyes　had　been　the　first　things　to　go。　The　frightening　part；　of　course；　was　that　if　one　man　could　die　this　way；　so　could　another；　and　even　though　Angelo　had　already　been　dead；　somehow　Piaggi　was　sure　that　being　disposed　of　this　way　was　worse　than　mere　death。　He　would　have　regretted　Angelo‘s　death；　except　that　it　was　business；　and　。。。　Angelo　had　deserved　it。　It　was　a　shame；　in　a　way；　that　his　gruesome　fate　had　to　be　kept　a　secret；　but　that　was　business；　too。　That　was　how　you　kept　the　cops　from　finding　out。　Hard　to　prove　murder　without　a　body；　and　here　they　had　accidentally　found　a　way　to　conceal　a　number　of　murders。　The　only　problem　was　getting　the　bodies　here　…　and　not　letting　others　know　of　the　method　of　disposal；　because　people　talk。　Tony　Piaggi　told　himself；　as　Angelo　had　talked。　A　good　thing　that　Henry　had　found　out　about　that。
‘How　‘bout　crab　cakes　when　we　get　back　to　town？‘　Eddie　Morello　asked　with　a　laugh；　just　to　see　if　he　could　make　Tony　puke。
‘Let‘s　get　the　fuck　outa　here；‘　Piaggi　replied　quietly；　settling　into　his　seat。　Tucker　took　the　engine　out　of　idle　and　picked　his　way　out　of　the　tidal　marsh；　back　into　the　Bay。
Piaggi　took　a　minute　or　two　to　get　the　sight　out　of　his　mind；　hoping　that　he　could　forget　the　horror　of　it　and　remember　only　the　efficiency　of　their　disposal　method。　After　all；　they　might　be　using　it　again。　Maybe　after　a　few　hours　he‘d　see　humor　in　it；　Tony　thought；　looking　at　the　cooler。　Under　the　fifteen　or　so　cans　of　National　Bohemian　was　a　layer　of　ice；　under　which　were　twenty　sealed　bags　of　heroin。　In　the　unlikely　event　that　anyone　stopped　them；　it　was　unlikely　that　they‘d　look　farther　than　the　beer；　the　real　fuel　for　Bay…boaters。　Tucker　drove　the　boat　north；　and　the　others　laid　out　their　fishing　rods　as　though　they　were　trying　to　find　a　good　place　to　harvest　a　few　rockfish　from　the　Chesapeake。
‘Fishing　in　reverse；‘　Morello　said　after　a　moment；　then　he　laughed　loudly　enough　that　Piaggi　joined　in。
‘Toss　me　a　beer！‘　Tony　manded　between　laughs。　He　was　a　‘made　man；‘　after　all；　and　deserved　respect。
‘Idiots；‘　Kelly　said　quietly　to　himself。　That　eighteen…footer　was　going　too　fast；　too　close　to　other　fishing　boats。　It　could　catch　a　few　lines；　and　certainly　would　throw　a　wake　sure　to　disturb　other　craft。　That　was　bad　sea　manners；　something　Kelly　was　always　careful　to　observe。　It　was　just　too　easy　to　…　hell；　it　wasn‘t　even　hard　enough　to　be　‘easy。‘　All　you　had　to　do　was　buy　a　boat　and　you　had　the　right　to　sail　her　around。　No　tests；　no　nothing。　Kelly　found　Rosen‘s　7　x　50　binoculars　and　focused　them　on　the　boat　that　was　ing　close　aboard。　Three　assholes；　one　of　them　holding　up　a　can　of　beer　in　mock　salute。
‘Bear　off；　dickhead；‘　he　whispered　to　himself。　The　jerks　in　a　boat；　drinking　beer；　probably　half…potted　already；　not　even　eleven　o‘clock　yet。　He　gave　them　a　good　look；　and　was　vaguely　grateful　that　they　passed　no　closer　than　fifty　yards。　He　caught　the　name：　Henry‘s　Eighth。　If　he　saw　that　name　again；　Kelly　told　himself；　he‘d　remember　to　keep　clear。
‘I　got　one！‘　Sarah　called。
"；Heads　up；　we　got　a　big　wake　ing　in　from　starboard！‘　It　arrived　a　minute　later；　causing　the　big　Hatteras　to　rock　twenty　degrees　left　and　right　of　vertical。
‘That；‘　Kelly　said；　looking　down　at　the　other　three；　‘is　what　I　mean　by　bad　sea　manners！‘
‘Aye　aye！‘　Sam　called　back。
‘I‘ve　still　got　him；‘　Sarah　said。　She　worked　the　fish　in；　Kelly　saw；　with　consummate　skill。　‘Pretty　big；　too！‘
Sam　got　the　　and　leaned　over　the　side。　A　moment　later　he　stood　back　up。　The　　contained　a　struggling　rockfish；　maybe　twelve　or　fourteen　pounds。　He　dumped　the　　in　a　water…filled　box　in　which　the　fish　could　wait　to　die。　It　seemed　cruel　to　Kelly；　but　it　was　only　a　fish；　and　he‘d　seen　worse　things　than　that。
Pam　started　squealing　a　moment　later　as　her　line　went　taut。　Sarah　put　her　rod　in　its　holder　and　started　coaching　her。　Kelly　watched。　The　friendship　between　Pam　and　Sarah　was　as　remarkable　as　that　between　himself　and　the　girl。　Perhaps　Sarah　was　taking　the　place　of　the　mother　who　had　been　lacking　in　affection；　or　whatever　Pam‘s　mother　had　lacked。　Regardless；　Pam　was　responding　well　to　the　advice　and　counsel　of　her　new　friend。　Kelly　watched　with　a　smile　that　Sam　caught　and　returned。　Pam　was　new　at　this；　tripping　twice　as　she　walked　the　fish　around。　Again　Sam　did　the　honors　with　the　；　this　time　recovering　an　eight…pound　blue。
‘Toss　it　back；‘　Kelly　advised。　‘They　don‘t　taste　worth　a　damn！‘
Sarah　looked　up。　‘Throw　back　her　first　fish？　What　are　you；　a　Nazi？　You　have　any　lemon　at　your　place；　John？‘　
‘Yeah；　why？‘
‘I‘ll　show　you　what　you　can　do　with　a　bluefish；　that‘s　why。‘　She　whispered　something　to　Pam　that　evoked　a　laugh。　The　blue　went　into　the　same　tank；　and　Kelly　wondered　how　it　and　the　rock　would　get　along。
Memorial　Day；　Dutch　Maxwell　thought；　alighting　from　his　official　car　at　Arlington　National　Cemetery。　To　many　just　a　time　for　a　five…hundred…mile　auto　race　in　Indianapolis；　or　a　day　off；　or　the　traditional　start　of　the　summer　beach　season；　as　testified　to　by　the　relative　lack　of　auto　traffic　in　Washington。　But　not　to　him；　and　not　to　his　fellows。　This　was　their　day；　a　time　to　remember　fallen　rades　while　others　attended　to　other　things　both　more　and　less　personal。　Admiral　Podulski　got　out　with　him；　and　the　two　walked　slowly　and　out　of　step；　as　admirals　do。　Casimir‘s　son；　Lieutenant　（junior　grade）　Stanislas　Podulski；　was　not　here；　and　probably　never　would　be。　His　A…4　had　been　blotted　from　the　sky　by　a　surface…to…air　missile；　the　reports　had　told　them；　nearly　a　direct　hit。　The　young　pilot　had　been　too　distracted　to　notice　until　perhaps　the　last　second；　when　his　voice　had　spoken　its　last　epithet　of　disgust　over　the　‘guard‘　channel。　Perhaps　one　of　the　bombs　he‘d　been　carrying　had　gone　off　sympathetically。　In　any　case；　the　small　attack…bomber　had　dissolved　into　a　greasy　cloud　of　black　and　yellow；　leaving　little　behind；　and　besides；　the　enemy　wasn‘t　all　that　fastidious　about　respecting　the　remains　of　fallen　aviators。　And　so　the　son　of　a　brave　man　had　been　denied　his　resting　place　with　rades。　It　wasn‘t　something　that　Cas　spoke　about。　Podulski　kept　such　feelings　inside。
Rear　Admiral　James　Greer　was　at　his　place；　as　he‘d　been　for　the　previous　two　years；　about　fifty　yards　from　the　paved　driveway；　setting　flowers　next　to　the　flag　at　the　headstone　of　his　son。
‘James？‘　Maxwell　said。　The　younger　man　turned　and　saluted；　wanting　to　smile　in　gratitude　for　their　friendship　on　a　day　like　this；　but　not　quite　doing　so。　All　three　wore　their　navy…blue　uniforms　because　they　carried　with　them　a　proper　sort　of　solemnity。　Their　gold…braided　sleeves　glistened　in　the　sun。　Without　a　spoken　word；　all　three　men　lined　up　to　face　the　headstone　of　Robert　White　Greer；　First　Lieutenant；　United　States　Marine　Corps。　They　saluted　smartly；　each　remembering　a　young　man　whom　they　had　bounced　on　their　knees；　who　had　ridden　his　bike　at　Naval　Station　Norfolk　and　Naval　Air　Station　Jacksonville　with　Cas‘s　son；　and　Dutch‘s。　Who　had　grown　strong　and　proud；　meeting　his　father‘s　ships　when　they‘d　returned　to　port；　and　talked　only　about　following　in　his　father‘s　footsteps；　but　not　too　closely；　and　whose　luck　had　proven　insufficient　to　the　moment；　fifty　miles　south…west　of　Danang。　It　was　the　curse　of　their　profession；　each　knew　but　never　said；　that　their　sons　were　drawn　to　it　also；　partly　from　reverence　for　what　their　fathers　were；　partly　from　a　love　of　country　imparted　by　each　to　each；　most　of　all　from　a　love　of　their　fellow　man。　As　each　of　the　men　standing　there　had　taken　his　chances；　so　had　Bobby　Greer　and　Stas　Podulski　taken　theirs。　It　was　just　that　luck　had　not　smiled　on　two　of　the　three　sons。
Greer　and　Podulski　told　themselves　at　this　moment　that　it　had　mattered；　that　freedom　had　a　price；　that　some　men　must　pay　that　price　else　there　would　be　no　flag；　no　Constitution；　no　holiday　whose　meaning　people　had　the　right　to　ignore。　But　in　both　cases；　those　unspoken　words　rang　hollow。　Greer‘s　marriage　had　ended；　largely　from　the　grief　of　Bobby‘s　death。　Podulski‘s　wife　would　never　be　the　same。　Though　each　man　had　other　children；　the　void　created　by　the　loss　of　one　was　like　a　chasm　never　to　be　bridged；　and　as　much　as　each　might　tell　himself　that；　yes；　it　was　worth　the　price；　no　man　who　could　rationalize　the　death　of　a　child　could　truly　be　called　a　man　at　all；　and　their　real　feelings　were　reinforced　by　the　same　humanity　that　pelled　them　to　a　life　of　sacrifice。　This　was　all　the　more　true　because　each　had　feelings　about　the　war　that　the　more　polite　called　‘doubts；‘　and　which　they　called　something　else；　but　only　among　themselves。
‘Remember　the　time　Bobby　went　into　the　pool　to　get　Mike　Goodwin‘s　little　girl　…　saved　her　life？‘　Podulski　asked。　‘I　just　got　a　note　from　Mike。　Little　Amy　had　twins　last　week；　two　little　girls。　She　married　an　engineer　down　in　Houston；　works　for　NASA。‘
‘I　didn‘t　even　know　she　was　married。　How　old　is　she　now？‘　James　asked。
‘Oh；　she　must　be　twenty　。。。　twenty…five？　Remember　her　freckles；　how　the　sun　used　to　breed　them　down　at　Jax？‘
‘Little　Amy；‘　Greer　said　quietly。　‘How　they　grow。‘　Maybe　she　wouldn‘t　have　drowned　that　hot　July　day；　but　it　was　one　more　thing　to　rem