jg.thepelicanbrief-第21部分

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　than　the　FBI。〃
　　
　　〃It's　illegal。〃
　　
　　〃It's　been　done　before；　Chief；　many　times。〃　
　　
　　The　President　watched　the　traffic。　His　eyes　were　puffy　and　red；　but　not　from　fatigue。　He　had　slept　three　hours　on　the　plane。　But　he'd　spent　the　day　looking　sad　and　concerned　for　the　cameras；　and　it　was　hard　to　snap　out　of　it。　
　　
　　He　took　the　brief　and　tossed　it　on　the　empty　seat　next　to　him。　〃Is　it　someone　we　know？〃
　　
　　〃Yes。〃　
　　
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　　BECAUSE　IT　IS　A　CITY　of　the　night；　New　Orleans　wakes　slowly。　It's　quiet　until　well　after　dawn；　then　shakes　the　cobwebs　and　eases　into　the　morning。　There's　no　early　rush　except　on　the　corridors　to　and　from　the　suburbs；　and　the　busy　streets　downtown。　This　is　the　same　for　all　cities。　But　in　the　French　Quarter；　the　soul　of　New　Orleans；　the　smell　of　last　night's　whiskey　and　jambalaya　and　blackened　redfish　lingers　not　far　above　the　empty　streets　until　the　sun　can　be　seen。　An　hour　or　two　later；　it　is　replaced　with　the　aroma　of　French　Market　coffee　and　beignets；　and　around　this　time　the　sidewalks　reluctantly　show　signs　of　life。　
　　
　　Darby　curled　herself　in　a　chair　on　the　small　balcony；　sipping　coffee　and　waiting　on　the　sun。　Callahan　was　a　few　feet　away；　through　the　open　french　doors；　still　wrapped　in　sheets　and　dead　to　the　world。　There　was　a　trace　of　a　breeze；　but　the　humidity　would　return　by　noon。　She　pulled　his　robe　closer　around　her　neck；　and　inhaled　the　richness　of　his　cologne。　She　thought　of　her　father；　and　his　baggy　cotton　button…downs　he　allowed　her　to　wear　when　she　was　a　teenager。　She　would　roll　the　sleeves　tightly　to　her　elbows　and　let　the　tails　hang　to　her　knees；　then　walk　the　malls　with　her　friends；　secure　in　her　belief　that　no　one　was　cooler。　Her　father　was　her　friend。　By　the　time　she　finished　high　school；　she　had　the　run　of　his　closet；　as　long　as　things　were　washed　and　neatly　pressed　and　put　back　on　the　hangers。　She　could　still　smell　the　Grey　Flannel　he　splashed　on　his　face　every　day。　
　　
　　If　he　was　living；　he　would　be　four　years　older　than　Thomas　Callahan。　Her　mother　had　remarried　and　moved　to　Boise。　Darby　had　a　brother　in　Germany。　The　three　seldom　talked。　Her　father　had　been　the　glue　in　a　fractious　family；　and　his　death　had　scattered　them。　
　　
　　Twenty　other　people　died　in　the　plane　crash；　and　before　the　funeral　arrangements　were　plete　the　lawyers　were　calling。　It　was　her　first　real　exposure　to　the　legal　world；　and　it　was　not　pleasant。　The　family　attorney　was　a　real　estate　type　who　knew　nothing　about　litigation。　A　slick　ambulance　chaser　got　next　to　her　brother；　and　he　persuaded　the　family　to　sue　quickly。　His　name　was　Herschel；　and　for　two　years　the　family　suffered　as　Herschel　stalled　and　lied　and　bungled　the　case。　They　settled　a　week　before　trial　for　half　a　million；　after　Herschel's　cut；　and　Darby　got　a　hundred　thousand。　
　　
　　She　decided　to　be　a　lawyer。　If　a　clown　like　Herschel　could　do　it　and　make　big　bucks　while　wreaking　havoc　on　society；　then　she　certainly　could　do　it　for　a　nobler　purpose。　She　thought　of　Herschel　often。　When　she　passed　the　bar　exam；　her　first　lawsuit　would　be　filed　against　him　for　malpractice。　She　wanted　to　work　for　an　environmental　firm。　Finding　a　job；　she　knew；　would　not　be　a　problem。　
　　
　　The　hundred　thousand　was　intact。　Her　mother's　new　husband　was　a　paper　pany　executive　who　was　a　little　older　and　a　lot　wealthier；　and　shortly　after　their　marriage　she　divided　her　portion　of　the　settlement　between　Darby　and　her　brother。　She　said　the　money　reminded　her　of　her　deceased　husband；　and　the　gesture　was　symbolic。　Though　she　still　loved　their　father；　she　had　a　new　life　in　a　new　city　with　a　new　husband　who　would　retire　in　five　years　with　money　to　burn。　Darby　had　been　confused　by　the　symbolic　gesture；　but　appreciated　it　and　took　the　money。　
　　
　　The　hundred　thousand　had　doubled。　She　placed　most　of　it　in　mutual　funds；　but　only　in　those　without　holdings　in　chemical　and　petroleum　panies。　She　drove　an　Accord　and　lived　modestly。　Her　wardrobe　was　basic　law　school；　purchased　from　factory　outlet　stores。　She　and　Callahan　enjoyed　the　better　restaurants　in　town；　and　never　ate　at　the　same　place　twice。　It　was　always　Dutch　treat。　
　　
　　He　cared　little　for　money；　and　never　pressed　her　for　information。　She　had　more　than　the　typical　law　student；　but　Tulane　had　its　share　of　rich　kids。　
　　
　　They　dated　for　a　month　before　they　went　to　bed。　She　laid　the　ground　rules；　and　he　anxiously　agreed　to　them。　There　would　be　no　other　women。　They　would　be　very　discreet。　And　he　had　to　stop　drinking　so　much。　
　　
　　He　stuck　to　the　first　two；　but　the　drinking　continued。　His　father；　grandfather；　and　brothers　were　heavy　drinkers；　and　it　was　sort　of　expected　of　him。　But　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　Thomas　Callahan　was　in　love；　madly　in　love；　and　he　knew　the　point　at　which　the　Scotch　was　interfering　with　his　woman。　He　was　careful。　With　the　exception　of　last　week　and　the　personal　trauma　of　losing　Rosenberg；　he　never　drank　before　5　P。M。　When　they　were　together；　he　abandoned　the　Chivas　when　he'd　had　enough　and　thought　it　might　affect　his　performance。　
　　
　　It　was　amusing　to　watch　a　forty…five…year…old　man　fall　for　the　first　time。　He　struggled　to　maintain　a　level　of　coolness；　but　in　their　private　little　moments　he　was　as　silly　as　a　sophomore。　
　　
　　She　kissed　him　on　the　cheek；　and　covered　him　with　a　quilt。　Her　clothes　were　placed　neatly　on　a　chair。　She　locked　the　front　door　quietly　behind　her。　The　sun　was　up　now；　peeking　through　the　buildings　across　Dauphine。　The　sidewalk　was　empty。　
　　
　　She　had　a　class　in　three　hours；　then　Callahan　and　con　law　at　eleven。　There　was　a　mock　court　appellate　brief　due　in　a　week。　Her　casenote　for　law　review　was　gathering　dust。　She　was　behind　in　classwork　for　two　courses。　It　was　time　to　be　a　student　again。　She　had　wasted　four　days　playing　detective；　and　she　cursed　herself　for　it。　
　　
　　The　Accord　was　around　the　corner　and　down　a　half　a　block。　
　　
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　　THEY　WATCHED　HER；　and　it　was　enjoyable。　Tight　jeans；　baggy　sweater；　long　legs；　sunglasses　to　hide　the　eyes　with　no　makeup。　They　watched　her　close　the　door　and　walk　quickly　along　Royale；　then　disappear　around　the　corner。　The　hair　was　shoulder…length　and　appeared　to　be　dark　red。　It　was　her。　
　　
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　　HE　CARRIED　HIS　LUNCH　in　a　little　brown　paper　bag；　and　found　an　empty　park　bench　with　his　back　to　New　Hampshire。　He　hated　Dupont　Circle；　with　its　bums；　druggies；　perverts；　aging　hippies；　and　black…leather　punks　with　red　spiked　hair　and　vicious　tongues。　Across　the　fountain；　a　well…dressed　man　with　a　loudspeaker　was　assembling　his　group　of　animal　rights　activists　for　a　march　to　the　White　House。　The　leather　people　jeered　and　cursed　them；　but　four　mounted　policemen　were　close　enough　to　prevent　trouble。　
　　
　　He　looked　at　his　watch　and　peeled　a　banana。　Noon；　and　he　preferred　to　eat　elsewhere。　The　meeting　would　be　brief。　He　watched　the　cursing　and　jeering；　and　saw　his　contact　emerge　through　the　crowd。　Their　eyes　met；　a　nod；　and　he　was　sitting　on　the　bench　next　to　him。　His　name　was　Booker；　from　Langley。　They　met　here　occasionally；　when　the　lines　of　munication　became　tangled　or　blurred　and　their　bosses　needed　to　hear　real　words　that　no　one　else　would　hear。　
　　
　　Booker　had　no　lunch。　He　began　shelling　roasted　peanuts　and　throwing　the　hulls　under　the　circular　bench。　〃How's　Mr。　Voyles？〃
　　
　　〃Mean　as　hell。　The　usual。〃　
　　
　　He　threw　peanuts　in　his　mouth。　〃Gminski　was　in　the　White　House　until　midnight　last　night；〃　Booker　said。　
　　
　　There　was　no　response　to　this。　Voyles　knew　it。　
　　
　　Booker　continued。　〃They've　panicked　over　there。　This　little　pelican　thing　has　scared　them。　We've　read　it　too；　you　know；　and　we're　almost　certain　you　guys　are　not　impressed；　but　for　some　reason　Coal　is　terrified　of　it　and　he's　got　the　President　upset。　We　sort　of　figure　you　guys　are　just　having　a　little　fun　with　Coal　and　his　boss；　and　since　the　brief　mentions　the　President　and　has　that　photo　in　it；　we　figure　it's　sort　of　fun　for　you　guys。　Know　what　I　mean？〃　
　　
　　He　took　an　inch　off　the　banana；　and　said　nothing。　
　　
　　The　animal　lovers　moved　away　in　ragged　formation　as　the　leather　lovers　hissed　at　them。
　　
　　Anyway；　it's　none　of　our　business；　and　should　be　none　of　our　business　except　the　President　now　wants　us　to　secretly　investigate　the　pelican　brief　before　you　guys　can　get　to　it。　He's　convinced　we'll　find　nothing；　and　he　wants　to　know　there's　nothing　to　it　so　he　can　convince　Voyles　to　back　off。〃
　　
　　〃There's　nothing　to　it。〃　
　　
　　Booker　watched　a　drunk　urinate　in　the　fountain。　The　cops　were　riding　off　into　the　sun。　〃Then　Voyles　is　having　a　little　fun；　right？〃
　　
　　〃We　are　pursuing　all　leads。〃
　　
　　〃No　real　suspects；　though？〃
　　
　　〃No。〃　The　banana　was　history。　〃Why　are　they　so　worried　about　us　investigating　this　little　thing？〃　
　　
　　Booker　crunched　on　a　small　peanut　still　in　the　hull。　〃Well；　to　them　it's　quite　simple。　They　are　livid　over　the　revelation　of　Pryce　and　MacLawrence　as　nominees；　and　of　course　it's　all　your　fault。　They　distrust　Voyles　immensely。　And　if　you　guys　start　digging　into　the　pelican　brief；　they're　terrified　the　press　wi