pdouglas.thecodex-第12部分

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o　longer　rising：　He　was　holding　hands　with　Skiba　as　they　swan…dived　off　the　edge　of　the　Grand　Canyon。
　〃What　is　it；　Mike；　that　was　so　important　it　couldn't　wait　until　our　afternoon　meeting？〃　Skiba　spoke　pleasantly。
　〃I've　got　a　fellow　outside　you　need　to　meet。　He's　got　an　interesting　proposition　for　us。〃
　Skiba　closed　his　eyes。　He　suddenly　felt　tired　almost　unto　death。　All　the　good　feeling　was　gone。　〃Don't　you　think　we've　had　enough　of　your　'propositions；'　Mike？〃
　〃This　one's　different。　Trust　me。〃
　Trust　me；　Skiba　waved　his　hand　in　a　gesture　of　futility。　He　heard　the　door　open　and　looked　up。　There；　standing　in　front　of　him；　was　a　cheap　hustler　in　a　wide…lapel　suit　wearing　too　much　gold。　He　was　one　of　those　types　who　bed　five　hairs　across　half　a　continent　of　bald　skull　and　thought　that　solved　the　problem。
　〃Jesus　Christ；　Graff…〃
　〃Lewis；〃　said　Graff；　forging　ahead；　〃this　is　Mr。　Marcus　Hauser；　a　private　investigator　formerly　with　the　Bureau　of　Alcohol；　Tobacco；　and　Firearms。　He　has　something　he　wants　to　show　us。〃　Graff　took　a　piece　of　paper　from　Hauser's　hands　and　passed　it　to　Skiba。
　Skiba　stared　down　at　the　page。　It　was　covered　with　strange　symbols；　the　margins　drawn　with　curling　vines　and　leaves。　This　was　insane。　Graff　was　cracking　up。
　Graff　pushed　on。　〃That's　a　page　from　a　ninth…century　Mayan　manuscript。　It's　called　a　codex。　It's　a　two…thousand…page　catalog　of　rainforest　drugs；　how　to　extract　them　and　use　them。〃
　Skiba　felt　a　sensation　of　heat　on　his　skin　as　the　import　sank　in。　It　simply　could　not　be　true。
　〃That's　right。　Thousands　of　indigenous　pharmaceutical　prescriptions　identifying　medically　active　substances　found　in　plants；　animals；　insects；　spiders；　molds；　fungi…you　name　it。　The　medical　wisdom　of　the　ancient　Maya　in　a　single　volume。〃
　Skiba　looked　up；　first　at　Graff；　then　at　Hauser。　〃Where'd　you　get　this？〃
　Hauser　stood　with　his　plump　hands　folded　in　front　of　him。　Skiba　was　sure　he　smelled　some　kind　of　aftershave　or　cologne。　Cheap。
　〃It　belonged　to　an　old　friend　of　mine；〃　said　Hauser。　His　voice　was　high　and　irritating；　with　what　sounded　like　a　Brooklyn　accent。　A　pre…pubescent　Pacino。
　Skiba　said；　〃Mr。　Hauser；　it'll　be　ten　years　and　half　a　billion　in　R&D　before　any　of　these　drugs　e　on…line。〃
　〃True。　But　think　what　it'll　do　to　your　stock　price　now。　As　I　understand　it；　you've　got　a　bargeful　of　shit　drifting　down　your　little　river　here。〃　He　swept　a　plump　hand　in　a　circle；　taking　in　the　room。
　Skiba　stared　at　him。　The　insolent　son　of　a　bitch。　He　should　throw　him　out　now。
　Hauser　went　on。　〃Lampe　stock　opened　this　morning　at　fourteen　and　three…eighths。　Last　December　it　was　trading　at　fifty。　You；　personally；　have　two　million　stock　options　at　a　strike　price　of　between　thirty　and　thirty…five　laddered　out　to　expire　over　the　next　two　years。　All　of　which　are　now　worthless　unless　you　can　get　the　stock　price　back　up。　On　top　of　that；　your　major　new　cancer　drug；　Phloxatane；　is　a　dog　and　is　about　to　be　disapproved　by　the　FDA…〃
　Skiba　rose　from　his　chair；　his　face　red。　〃How　dare　you　speak　these　lies　to　me　like　this；　in　my　office？　Where　are　you　getting　this　false　information？〃
　〃Mr。　Skiba；〃　said　Hauser　mildly；　〃let's　cut　the　bullshit。　I'm　a　private　investigator；　and　this　manuscript　will　be　ing　into　my　possession　in　about　four　to　six　weeks。　I　want　to　sell　it　to　you。　And　I　know　you　need　it。　I　could　just　as　easily　take　it　to　GeneDyne　or　Cambridge　Pharmaceuticals。〃
　Skiba　swallowed　hard。　It　was　amazing　how　fast　clear…headedness　could　return。　〃How　do　I　know　this　isn't　some　kind　of　swindle？〃
　Graff　said；　〃I've　checked　it　out。　It's　as　good　as　gold；　Lewis。〃
　Skiba　stared　at　the　huckster　in　the　tasteless　suit。　He　swallowed　again；　his　mouth　dry。　This　was　how　far　they　had　sunk。　〃Tell　me　your　proposal；　Mr。　Hauser。〃
　Hauser　said；　〃The　Codex　is　in　Honduras。〃
　〃So　you're　selling　a　pig　in　a　poke。〃
　〃To　get　it；　I　need　money；　weapons；　and　equipment。　I'm　running　a　big　personal　risk。　I've　already　had　to　undertake　one　urgent　piece　of　business。　This　isn't　going　to　e　cheap。〃
　〃Don't　hustle　me；　Mr。　Hauser。〃
　〃Who's　the　hustler　here？　You're　up　to　your　neck　in　accounting　irregularities　as　it　is。　If　the　SEC　were　to　hear　about　how　you　and　Mr。　Graff　here　have　been　booking　marketing　costs　as　long…term　amortizable　R&D　these　past　few　quarters；　you'd　both　be　leaving　the　building　in　handcuffs。〃
　Skiba　stared　at　the　man；　and　then　at　Graff。　The　CFO　had　turned　white。　In　the　long　silence；　a　piece　of　wood　popped　in　the　fire。　Skiba　felt　a　muscle　twitching　somewhere　behind　his　left　knee。
　Hauser　went　on：　〃When　I　deliver　the　Codex　to　you　and　you've　authenticated　it；　as　you　will　naturally　insist　on　doing；　you'll　wire　fifty　million　dollars　to　an　offshore　account　of　my　selection。　That's　the　deal　I'm　offering。　No　negotiations…just　a　yes　or　a　no　will　suffice。〃
　〃Fifty　million？　That's　totally　insane。　Forget　it。〃
　Hauser　rose　and　headed　for　the　door。
　〃Wait；〃　Graff　called；　jumping　up。　〃Mr。　Hauser？　None　of　this　is　engraved　in　stone。〃　The　sweat　was　trickling　down　from　his　well…groomed　scalp　as　he　chased　after　the　man　in　the　cheap　suit。
　Hauser　kept　walking。
　〃We're　always　open　to…Mr。　Hauser！〃
　The　door　closed　in　Graff's　face。　Hauser　was　gone。
　Graff　turned　toward　Skiba。　His　hands　were　shaking。　〃We've　got　to　stop　him。〃
　Skiba　said　nothing　for　a　moment。　What　Hauser　had　said　was　true：　If　they　got　their　hands　on　the　manuscript；　the　announcement　alone　would　turn　around　their　stock。　Fifty　million；　however；　was　blackmail。　Dealing　with　a　man　like　this　was　odious。　But　some　things　couldn't　be　helped。　Skiba　said；　〃While　there's　only　one　way　to　pay　a　debt；　there　are　a　million　ways　not　to　pay　it。　As　you　well　know；　Mike。〃
　Graff　couldn't　quite　muster　a　smile　through　the　sheen　of　sweat　on　his　face。
　Skiba　spoke　into　his　inter。　〃That　man　who　was　just　here；　don't　let　him　leave　the　building。　Tell　him　we　agree　to　his　terms　and　escort　him　back　up　here。〃
　He　laid　the　phone　back　in　its　cradle　and　turned　to　Graff。　〃I　hope　for　both　of　our　sakes　this　guy　is　for　real。〃
　〃He　is；〃　said　Graff。　〃Believe　me；　I　looked　into　this　very　thoroughly。　The　Codex　exists；　and　the　sample　page　is　real。〃
　In　a　moment　Hauser　was　standing　in　the　door。
　〃You'll　get　your　fifty　million；〃　Skiba　said　brusquely。　〃Now　take　a　seat　and　tell　us　your　plan。〃
　
　10
　
　Charlie　Hernandez　felt　drained。　The　funeral　had　been　long；　the　interment　longer。　He　could　still　feel　the　grit　of　the　dirt　on　his　right　hand。　It　was　always　hell　when　one　of　their　own　had　to　be　buried；　let　alone　two。　And　he　still　had　a　court　appearance　and　half　a　shift　to　get　through。　He　glanced　over　at　his　partner；　Willson；　catching　up　on　paperwork。　Smart　guy；　too　bad　his　handwriting　looked　like　a　kindergartner's。
　The　buzzer　rang；　and　Doreen　said；　〃Two　people　to　see；　ah；　Barnaby　and　Fenton。〃
　Christ；　this　was　just　what　he　needed。　〃What　about？〃
　〃They　won't　say。　Won't　talk　to　anyone　but　Barnaby　and　Fenton。〃
　He　sighed　heavily。　〃Send　them　in。〃
　Willson　had　stopped　writing　and　was　looking　up。　〃You　want　me…？〃
　〃You　stay。〃
　They　appeared　in　the　doorway；　a　stunning　blond　and　a　tall　guy　in　cowboy　boots。　Hernandez　grunted；　sat　up；　smoothed　a　hand　over　his　hair。　〃Sit　down。〃
　〃We're　here　to　see　Lieutenant　Barnaby；　not…〃
　〃I　know　who　you're　here　to　see。　Please　take　a　seat。〃
　They　sat　down；　reluctantly。
　〃I'm　Officer　Hernandez；〃　he　said；　addressing　the　blond。　〃May　I　ask　what　your　business　with　Officer　Barnaby　is？〃　He　spoke　with　the　practiced　voice　of　officialdom；　slow；　stolid；　and　final。
　〃We'd　prefer　to　deal　directly　with　Officer　Barnaby；〃　said　the　man。
　〃You　can't。〃
　〃Why　not？〃　He　flared　up。
　〃Because　he's　dead。〃
　They　stared　back　at　him。　〃How？〃
　God；　Hernandez　felt　tired。　Barnaby　had　been　a　good　man。　What　a　waste。　〃Automobile　accident。〃　He　sighed。　〃Perhaps　if　you　told　me　who　you　were　and　how　I　could　help　you？〃
　They　looked　at　each　other。　The　man　spoke。　〃I'm　Tom　Broadbent；　and　about　ten　days　ago　Lieutenant　Barnaby　investigated　a　possible　break…in　at　our　house　off　the　Old　Santa　Fe　Trail。　Barnaby　handled　the　call；　and　I　wondered　if　he　filed　a　report。〃
　Hernandez　glanced　over　at　Willson。
　〃He　didn't　file　a　report；〃　Willson　said。
　〃Did　he　say　anything？〃
　〃He　said　it　had　been　some　kind　of　misunderstanding；　that　Mr。　Broadbent　had　moved　some　artworks　and　his　sons　mistakenly　assumed　they　had　been　stolen。　As　I　explained　last　week　to　your　brother；　a　crime　hadn't　been　mitted；　so　there　was　no　reason　to　open　a　file。〃
　〃My　brother？　Which　one？〃
　〃The　name　escapes　me。　Long　hair；　beard；　hippie　type…〃
　〃Vernon。〃
　〃Right。〃
　〃Can　we　talk　to　his　partner；　Fenton？〃
　〃He　also　passed　away　in　the　accident。〃
　〃What　happened？〃
　〃Car　went　off　the　Ski　Basin　Road　at　Nuns　Corner。〃
　〃I'm　sorry。〃
　〃So　are　we。〃
　〃So　there's　no　paperwork；　nothing　on　the　investigation　up　at　the　Broadbent　house？〃
　〃Nothing。〃
　There　was　a　silence；　and　then　Hernandez　said；　〃Is　there　anything　else　I　can　do　for　you　folks？〃
　
　11
　
　Trash　burned　in　a　row　of　fifty…five…gallon　drums　along　the　filthy　beach　at　Puerto　Lempira；　each　sending　a　stream　of　acrid　smoke　into　the　town。　A　fat　woman　cooked　on　a　al　over　one　of　the　drums；　the　smell　of　frying　pork　cracklings　carried　toward　Vernon　on　a　fetid　b