cb.damnationgame-第48部分

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ger's　voice；　and　those　of　women；　there　was　laughter；　some　of　it　shrill。　He　wondered　if　it　was　just　the　wives　they'd　brought；　or　their　daughters　too。
　　The　phone　rang。
　　〃Marty。〃　It　was　Whitehead。
　　〃Sir？〃　〃Why　not　e　up　and　join　us？　We're　waiting　for　you。〃　〃Right。〃　〃We're　in　the　white　room。〃　Another　surprise。　That　bare　room；　with　its　ugly　altarpiece；　seemed　an　unlikely　venue　for　a　dinner　party。
　　Evening　was　drawing　on　outside；　and　before　going　on　up　to　the　room；　Marty　switched　the　lawn　floods　on。　They　blazed；　their　illumination　echoing　through　the　house。　His　earlier　trepidation　had　been　entirely　replaced　by　a　mixture　of　defiance　and　fatalism。　As　long　as　he　didn't　spit　in　the　soup；　he　told　himself；　he'd　get　through。
　　〃e　on　in；　Marty。〃　The　atmosphere　inside　the　white　room　was　already　chokingly　thick　with　cigar　and　cigarette　smoke。　No　attempt　had　been　made　to　prettify　the　place。　The　only　decoration　was　the　triptych：　its　crucifixion　as　vicious　as　Marty　remembered　it。　Whitehead　stood　as　Marty　entered；　and　extended　his　hand　in　wele；　an　almost　garish　smile　on　his　face。
　　〃Close　the　door；　will　you？　e　on　in　and　sit　down。〃　There　was　a　single　empty　place　at　the　table。　Marty　went　to　it。
　　〃You　know　Felix；　of　course。〃　Ottaway；　the　fan…dancing　lawyer；　nodded。　The　bare　bulb　threw　light　on　his　pate；　and　exposed　the　line　of　his　toupee。
　　〃And　Lawrence。〃　Dwoskin…the　lean　and　trollish…was　in　the　middle　of　a　sip　of　wine。　He　murmured　a　greeting。
　　〃And　James。〃　〃Hello；〃　said　Curtsinger。　〃How　nice　to　see　you　again。〃　The　cigar　he　held　was　just　about　the　largest　Marty　had　ever　set　eyes　on。
　　The　familiar　faces　accounted　for；　Whitehead　introduced　the　three　women　who　sat　between　the　men。
　　〃Our　guests　for　tonight；〃　he　said。
　　〃Hello。〃　〃This　is　my　sometime　bodyguard；　Martin　Strauss。〃　〃Martin。〃　Oriana；　a　woman　in　her　mid…thirties；　gave　him　a　slightly　crooked　smile。　〃Pleased　to　meet　you。〃　Whitehead　used　no　second　name；　which　left　Marty　wondering　if　this　was　the　wife　of　one　of　the　men；　or　just　a　friend。　She　was　a　good　deal　younger　than　either　Ottaway　or　Curtsinger；　between　whom　she　sat。　Perhaps　she　was　a　mistress。　The　thought　tantalized。
　　〃This　is　Stephanie。〃　Stephanie；　the　first　woman's　senior　by　a　good　ten　years；　graced　Marty　with　a　look　that　seemed　to　strip　him　naked　from　head　to　foot。　It　was　disconcertingly　plain；　and　he　wondered　if　anyone　else　around　the　table　had　caught　it。
　　〃We've　heard　so　much　about　you；〃　she　said；　laying　a　caressing　hand　on　Dwoskin's。　〃Haven't　we？〃　Dwoskin　smirked。　Marty's　distaste　for　the　man　was　as　thoroughgoing　as　ever。　It　was　difficult　to　imagine　how　or　why　any　human　would　want　to　touch　him。
　　〃…And；　finally；　Emily。〃　Marty　turned　to　greet　the　third　new　face　at　the　table。　As　he　did　so；　Emily　knocked　over　a　glass　of　red　wine。
　　〃Oh　Jesus！〃　she　said。
　　〃Doesn't　matter；〃　Curtsinger　said；　grinning。　He　was　already　drunk；　Marty　now　registered；　the　grin　was　too　lavish　for　sobriety。　〃Couldn't　matter　less；　sweet。　Really　it　couldn't。〃　Emily　looked　up　at　Marty。　She　too　had　already　drunk　too　much；　to　judge　by　her　flushed　plexion。　She　was　by　far　the　youngest　of　the　three　women；　and　almost　winsomely　pretty。
　　〃Sit　down。　Sit　down；〃　Whitehead　said。　〃Never　mind　the　wine；　for　God's　sake。〃　Marty　took　his　place　beside　Curtsinger。　The　wine　Emily　had　spilled　dribbled　off　the　edge　of　the　table；　unarrested。
　　〃We　were　just　saying…〃　Dwoskin　chimed　in；　〃what　a　pity　Willy　couldn't　have　been　here。〃　Marty　shot　a　glance　at　the　old　man　to　see　if　the　mention　of　Toy…the　sound　of　weeping　came　back　as　he　thought　of　him…had　brought　any　response。　There　was　none。　He　too；　Marty　now　saw；　was　the　worse　for　drink。　The　bottles　that　Luther　had　been　opening…the　clarets；　the　burgundies…forested　the　table；　the　atmosphere　was　more　that　of　an　ad　hoc　picnic　rather　than　a　dinner　party。　There　was　none　of　the　ceremony　he'd　anticipated：　no　meticulous　ordering　of　courses；　no　cutlery　in　regiments。　What　food　there　was…tins　of　caviar　with　spoons　thrust　into　them；　cheeses；　thin　biscuits…took　a　poor　second　place　to　the　wine。　Though　Marty　knew　little　about　wine　his　suspicions　about　the　old　man　emptying　his　cellar　were　confirmed　by　the　babble　around　the　table。　They　had　e　together　tonight　to　drink　the　Sanctuary　dry　of　its　finest；　its　most　celebrated；　vintages。
　　〃Drink！〃　Curtsinger　said。　〃It's　the　best　stuff　you'll　ever　swallow；　believe　me。〃　He　fumbled　for　a　specific　bottle　among　the　throng。　〃Where's　the〃　Latour？　We　haven't　finished　it；　have　we？　Stephanie；　are　you　hiding　it；　darling？〃　Stephanie　looked　up　from　her　cups。　Marty　doubted　if　she　even　knew　what　Curtsinger　was　talking　about。　These　women　weren't　wives；　he　was　certain　of　it。　He　doubted　if　they　were　even　mistresses。
　　〃Here！〃　Curtsinger　sloppily　filled　a　glass　for　Marty。　〃See　what　you　make　of　that。〃　Marty　had　never　much　liked　wine。　It　was　a　drink　to　be　sipped　and　swilled　around　the　mouth；　and　he　had　no　patience　with　it。　But　the　bouquet　off　the　glass　spoke　quality；　even　to　his　uneducated　nose。　It　had　a　richness　that　made　him　salivate　before　he'd　downed　a　mouthful；　and　the　taste　didn't　disappoint：　it　was　superb。
　　〃Good；　eh？〃　〃Tasty。〃　〃Tasty；〃　Curtsinger　bellowed　to　the　table　in　mock　outrage。　〃The　boy　pronounces　it　tasty。〃　〃Better　pass　it　back　over　before　he　downs　the　lot；〃　Ottaway　remarked。
　　〃It's　all　got　to　go；〃　Whitehead　said；　〃tonight。〃　〃All　of　it？〃　said　Emily；　glancing　over　at　the　two　dozen　other　bottles　that　stood　against　the　wall：　liqueurs　and　cognacs　among　the　wines。
　　〃Yes；　everything。　One　blowout；　to　finish　the　best　of　the　stuff。〃　What　was　this　about？　They　were　like　a　retreating　army　razing　a　place　rather　than　leaving　anything　for　those　who　followed　to　occupy。
　　〃What　are　you　going　to　drink　next　week？〃　Oriana　asked；　a　heaped　spoonful　of　caviar　hovering　above　her　cleavage。
　　〃Next　week？〃　Whitehead　said。　〃No　parties　next　week。　I'm　joining　a　monastery。〃　He　looked　across　at　Marty。　〃Marty　knows　what　a　troubled　man　I　am。〃　〃Troubled？〃　said　Dwoskin。
　　〃Concerned　for　my　immortal　soul；〃　said　Whitehead；　not　taking　his　eyes　off　Marty。　This　earned　a　spluttered　guffaw　from　Ottaway；　who　was　rapidly　losing　control　of　himself。
　　Dwoskin　leaned　across　and　refilled　Marty's　glass。　〃Drink　up；〃　he　said。　〃We've　got　a　lot　to　get　through。〃　There　was　no　slow　savoring　of　the　wine　going　on　around　the　table：　the　glasses　were　being　filled；　guzzled　and　refilled　as　though　the　tipple　were　water。　There　seemed　something　desperate　in　their　appetite。　But　he　should　have　known　Whitehead　did　nothing　by　halves。　Not　to　be　outdone；　Marty　downed　his　second　glass　in　two　gulps；　and　filled　it　to　brimming　again　immediately。
　　〃Like　it？〃　Dwoskin　asked。
　　〃Willy　would　not　approve；〃　said　Ottaway。
　　〃What；　of　Mr。　Strauss？〃　Oriana　said。　The　caviar　had　still　not　found　her　mouth。
　　〃Not　of　Martin。　Of　this　indiscriminate　consumption…〃　He　was　barely　able　to　get　his　tongue　around　the　last　two　words。　There　was　some　pleasure　in　seeing　the　lawyer　tongue…twisted；　no　more　the　FanDancer。
　　〃Toy　can　go　fuck　himself；〃　Dwoskin　said。　Marty　wanted　to　say　something　in　Bill's　defense；　but　the　drink　had　slowed　his　responses　and　before　he　could　speak　Whitehead　had　lifted　his　glass。　〃A　toast；〃　he　announced。
　　Dwoskin　stumbled　to　his　feet；　knocking　over　an　empty　bottle　which　in　turn　felled　another　three。　Wine　gurgled　out　of　one　of　the　spilled　bottles；　weaving　across　the　table　and　splashing　on　to　the　floor。
　　〃To　Willy！〃　Whitehead　said；　〃wherever　he　is。〃　Glasses　raised　and　tapped　together；　even　Dwoskin's。　A　chorus　of　voices　offered　up　〃To　Willy！〃　…and　the　glasses　were　noisily　drained。　Marty's　glass　was　filled　up　by　Ottaway。
　　〃Drink；　man；　drink！〃　The　drink；　on　Marty's　empty　stomach；　was　causing　ructions。　He　felt　dislocated　from　events　in　the　room：　from　the　women；　the　Fan…Dancer；　the　crucifixion　on　the　wall。　His　initial　shock　seeing　the　men　like　this；　wine　on　their　bibs　and　chins；　mouthing　obscenities；　had　long　since　faded。　Their　behavior　didn't　matter。　Getting　more　of　these　vintages　down　his　throat　did。　He　exchanged　a　baleful　look　with　Christ。　〃Fuck　you；〃　he　said　under　his　breath。
　　Curtsinger　caught　the　ment。　〃My　very　words；〃　he　whispered　back。
　　〃Where　is　Willy？〃　Emily　was　asking。　〃I　thought　he'd　be　here。〃　She　offered　the　question　to　the　table；　but　nobody　seemed　willing　to　take　it　up。
　　〃He's　gone；〃　Whitehead　replied　eventually。
　　〃He's　such　a　nice　man；〃　the　girl　said。　She　dug　Dwoskin　in　the　ribs。　〃Didn't　you　think　he　was　a　nice　man？〃　Dwoskin　was　irritated　by　the　interruptions。　He　had　taken　to　fumbling　at　the　zipper　on　the　back　of　Stephanie's　dress。　She　made　no　objection　to　this　public　advance。　The　glass　he　held　in　the　other　hand　was　spilling　wine　into　his　lap。　He　either　didn't　notice　or　didn't　care。
　　Whitehead　caught　Marty's　eye。
　　〃Entertaining　you；　are　we？〃　he　said。
　　Marty　wiped　the　nascent　smile　off　his　face。
　　〃Don't　you　approve？〃　Ottaway　asked　Marty。
　　〃Not　up　to　me。〃　〃I　always　got　the　impression　the　criminal　classes　were　quite　puritanical　at　heart。　Is　that　right？〃　Marty　looked　down　from　the　Fan…Dancer's　drink…puffed　features　and　shook　his　head。　The　jibe　was　beneath　contempt；　as　was　the　jiber。
　　〃If　I　were　you；　Marty；〃　Whitehead　said　from　the　other　end　of　the　tabl