cb.damnationgame-第69部分
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to the sink to run the wound under cold water。 The process calmed the pain somewhat； the damage was not as severe as she had thought。 Though it had seemed an age； her palm had probably only been in direct contact with the ring for a second or two。 She wrapped her hand up in one of Marty's T…shirts。 Then she remembered she'd read somewhere that burns were best left to the open air； and she undid her handiwork。 Exhausted； she lay on the bed and waited for Marty to bring her a piece of the Island。
59
The Reverend Bliss〃 boys stayed in the downstairs back room of the house on Caliban Street； lost in a reverie of watery death； for well over an hour。 In that time Mamoulian had gone in search of Carys； found her and been driven out again。 But he had discovered her whereabouts。 More than that； he had gleaned that Strauss…the man he had so foolishly ignored at the Sanctuary…had now gone to fetch the girl heroin。 It was time； he thought； to stop being so passionate。
He felt like a beaten dog： all he wanted to do was to lie down and die。 It seemed today…especially since the girl's skillful rejection of him…that he felt every hour of his long； long life in his sinews。 He looked down at his hand； which still ached with the burn he'd received through Carys。 Perhaps the girl would understand； finally； that all of this was inevitable。 That the endgame he was about to enter was more important than her life or Strauss〃 or Breer's or those of the two idiot Memphisites he'd left dreaming two floors below。
He went down to the first landing and into Breer's room。 The Razor…Eater was recumbent on his mattress in the corner of the room； his neck akimbo； his stomach impaled； gaping up at him like a lunatic fish。 At the bottom of the mattress； drawn up close because of Breer's failing eyesight； the television gabbled its inanities。
〃We'll be leaving soon；〃 Mamoulian said。
〃Did you find her？〃 〃Yes； I found her。 A place called Bright Street。 The house…〃 he seemed to find this thought amusing； 〃is painted yellow。 The second floor； I think。〃 〃Bright Street；〃 said Breer； dreamily。 〃Shall we go and find her then？〃 〃No； not we。〃 Breer turned a little more toward the European； he had braced his broken neck with a makeshift splint； and it made movement difficult。 〃I want to see her；〃 he said。
〃You shouldn't have let her go in the first place。〃 〃He came； the one from the house。 I told you。〃 〃Oh； yes；〃 said Mamoulian。 〃I have plans for Strauss。〃 〃Shall I find him for you？〃 Breer said。 The old images of execution sprang into his head； as if fresh from a book of atrocities。 One or two of them were sharper than ever； as if they were close to being realized。
〃No need；〃 the European replied。 〃I have two eager acolytes willing to do that job for me。〃 Breer sulked。 〃What can I do； then？〃 〃You can prepare the house for our departure。 I want you to burn what few possessions we have。 I want it to be as though we never existed； you and I。〃 〃The end's near； is it？〃 〃Now I know where she is； yes。〃 〃She may run off。〃 〃She's too weak。 She won't be able to move until Strauss brings her drug。 And of course he'll never do that。〃 〃You're going to have him killed？〃 〃Him； and anyone who gets in my way from this moment on。 I've no energy left for passion。 That's been my error so often： letting the innocent escape。 You've got your instructions； Anthony。 Be about your business。〃 He withdrew from the fetid room； and went downstairs to his new agents。 The Americans stood respectfully when he opened the door。
〃Are you ready？〃 he asked。
The blond one； who had been the more pliant from the outset； started to express his undying thanks over again； but Mamoulian silenced him。 He gave them their orders； and they took them as if he were dispensing sweets。
〃There are knives in the kitchen；〃 he said。 〃Take them and use them in good health。〃 Chad smiled。 〃You want us to kill the wife too？〃 〃The Deluge has no time to be selective。〃 〃Suppose she hasn't sinned？〃 Tom said； not sure of why he thought this foolish thought。
〃Oh； she's sinned；〃 the man replied； with glittering eyes； and that was good enough for the Reverend Bliss〃 boys。
Upstairs； Breer hoisted himself off his mattress with difficulty； and stumbled into the bathroom to look at himself in the cracked mirror。 His injuries had long ago stopped seeping； but he looked terrible。
〃Shave；〃 he told himself。 〃And sandalwood。〃 He was afraid that things were moving too fast now； and if he wasn't careful he was going to be left out of the calculations。 It was time he acted on his own behalf。 He would find a clean shirt； a tie and a jacket and then he would go out courting。 If the endgame was so close that the evidence had to be destroyed； then he had better be quick。 Better finish his romance with the girl before she went the way of all flesh。
60
It took considerably longer than three…quarters of an hour to cross London。 A large antinuclear march was underway； various sections of the main body were assembling around the city； then marching toward a mass rally in Hyde Park。 The center of the city； which was at best difficult to navigate； was so thick with marchers and arrested traffic as to be virtually impassable。 None of which Marty had realized until he was in the thick of it； by which time retreat and rerouting was out of the question。 He cursed his lack of attention： there had surely been police signs warning ining motorists of the delay。 He had noticed none of them。
There was nothing to be done； however； except perhaps t0 desert the car and set out on foot or by subway。 Neither option was particularly attractive。 The subway would be packed； and walking in today's blistering heat would be debilitating。 He needed what small reserves of energy he still possessed。 He was living on adrenaline and cigarettes； and had been for too long。 He was weak。 He only hoped…vain hope…that the opposition was weaker。
It was the middle of the afternoon by the time he reached Charmaine's place。 He drove around the block； looking for somewhere to park； and eventually found a space around the corner from the house。 His feet were somewhat reluctant； the abasement ahead wasn't particularly attractive。 But Carys was waiting。
The front door was just slightly ajar。 He rang the bell nevertheless； and waited on the pavement； unwilling simply to step into the house。 Perhaps they were upstairs in bed； or taking a cool shower together。 The heat was still furious； even though the afternoon was well advanced。
Down at the end of the street an ice…cream van； playing an off…key version of 〃The Blue Danube；〃 appeared and stopped by the curb to await patrons。 Marty glanced toward it。 The waltz had already attracted two customers。 They drew his attention for a moment： sober…suited young men whose backs were turned to him。 One of them boasted bright yellow hair： it shone in the sun。 They were taking possession of their ice creams now； money was exchanged。 Satisfied； they disappeared around the corner without looking over their shoulders。
Despairing of an answer to his bell…ringing； Marty pushed the door open。 It grated across the coconut matting； which bore a threadbare 〃Wele。 〃 A pamphlet； stuck halfway through the mailbox； dislodged and fell on the inside； facedown。 The sprung mailbox snapped loudly back into place。
〃Flynn？ Charmaine？〃 His voice was an intrusion； it carried up the stairs； where dust motes thronged the sunlight through the half…landing window； it ran into the kitchen； where yesterday's milk was curdling on the board beside the sink。
〃Is anybody in？〃 Standing in the hallway； he heard a fly。 It circled his head； and he waved it off。 Unconcerned； it buzzed off down the hallway toward the kitchen； tempted by something。 Marty followed it； calling Charmaine's name as he went。
She was waiting for him in the kitchen； as was Flynn。 They had both had their throats cut。
Charmaine had sunk down against the washing machine。 She sat； one leg bent beneath her； staring at the opposite wall。 Flynn had been placed with his head over the sink as though bending to douse his face。 The illusion of life was almost successful； even to the splashing sound。
Marty stood in the doorway； while the fly； not as finicky as he； flew around and around the kitchen； ecstatic。 Marty just stared。 There was nothing to be done： all that was left was to look。 They were dead。 And Marty knew without the effort of thinking about it that the killers were dressed in gray； and had turned that far corner； ice creams in hand； acpanied by 〃The Blue Danube。〃 They'd called Marty the Dancer of Wandsworth…those who'd called him anything at all…because Strauss was the Waltz King。 He wondered if he'd ever told Charmaine that； in any of his letters。 No； he probably hadn't： and now it was too late。 Tears had begun to sting the rims of his eyes。 He fought them back。 They would interrupt the view； and he hadn't finished looking yet。
The fly who'd brought him here was circling close to his head again。
〃The European；〃 he murmured to it。 〃He sent them。〃 The fly zigzagged； excitedly。 〃Of course；〃 it buzzed。
〃I'll kill him。〃 The fly laughed。 〃You don't have any idea what he is。 He could b
