pdouglas.thecodex-第52部分

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in　a　hushed　darkness；　the　only　sound　the　faint　cries　that　filled　the　strange　world　around　them。
　
　54
　
　They　were　awakened　by　Borabay's　cheerful　voice。　Night　had　fallen；　and　the　air　was　cooler；　the　smell　of　roasting　meat　drifting　through　the　hut。
　〃Dinner！〃
　Tom　and　Sally　dressed　and　emerged　from　the　hut；　feeling　embarrassed。　The　sky　was　resplendent　with　stars；　the　great　Milky　Way　arcing　like　a　river　of　light　over　their　heads。　Tom　had　never　seen　the　night　so　black　or　the　Milky　Way　so　bright。
　Borabay　was　sitting　by　the　fire；　turning　shish　kebabs　while　he　worked　on　a　dry　gourd；　drilling　holes　in　it　and　slicing　a　groove　in　one　end。　When　he　was　finished　he　lifted　it　to　his　lips　and　blew。　A　sweet；　low　note　came　out；　and　then　another　and　another。　He　stopped　and　grinned。
　〃Who　want　to　hear　music？〃
　He　began　to　play；　the　wandering　notes　gathering　into　a　haunting　melody。　The　jungle　fell　silent　as　the　pure；　clean　sounds　spilled　from　the　gourd；　faster　now；　rising　and　falling；　with　runs　of　notes　as　clear　and　hurried　as　a　mountain　stream。　There　were　moments　of　quiet　while　the　melody　remained　suspended　in　the　air　around　them；　and　then　the　song　resumed。　It　ended　with　a　series　of　low　notes　as　ghostly　as　the　moan　of　wind　in　a　cave。
　When　he　stopped；　the　silence　lasted　for　minutes。　Gradually　the　jungle　noises　began　to　enter　the　space　vacated　by　the　melody。
　〃Beautiful；〃　said　Sally。
　〃You　must've　inherited　that　ability　from　your　mother；〃　said　Vernon。　〃Father　had　a　tin　ear。〃
　〃Yes。　My　mother　sing　very　beautiful。〃
　〃You're　lucky；〃　said　Vernon。　〃We　hardly　knew　our　mothers。〃
　〃You　not　have　same　mother？〃
　〃No。　They　were　all　different。　Father　pretty　much　raised　us　himself。〃
　Borabay's　eyes　widened。　〃I　not　understand。〃
　〃When　there's　a　divorce　。。。〃　Tom　stopped。　〃Well；　sometimes　one　parent　gets　the　children　and　the　other　one　disappears。〃
　Borabay　shook　his　head。　〃This　very　strange。　I　wish　I　had　father。〃　He　turned　the　shish　kebabs。　〃Tell　me　what　growing　up　with　Father　like。〃
　Philip　laughed　harshly。　〃My　God；　where　to　begin？　When　I　was　a　kid　I　thought　he　was　terrifying。〃
　Vernon　broke　in。　〃He　loved　beauty。　So　much　so　that　he　sometimes　wept　in　front　of　a　beautiful　painting　or　statue。〃
　Philip　gave　another　sarcastic　snort。　〃Yeah；　weeping　because　he　couldn't　have　it。　He　wanted　to　own　beauty。　He　wanted　it　for　himself。　Women；　paintings；　whatever。　If　it　was　beautiful　he　wanted　it。〃
　〃That's　putting　it　rather　crudely；〃　said　Tom。　〃There's　nothing　wrong　with　loving　beauty。　The　world　can　be　such　an　ugly　place。　He　loved　art　for　itself；　not　because　it　was　fashionable　or　made　him　money。〃
　〃He　didn't　live　his　life　by　other　people's　rules；〃　Vernon　said。　〃He　was　a　skeptic。　He　marched　to　a　different　drummer。〃
　Philip　waved　his　hand。　〃Marched　to　a　different　drummer？　No；　Vernon；　he　whacked　the　different　drummer　upside　the　head；　took　his　drum；　and　led　the　parade　himself。　That　was　his　approach　to　life。〃
　〃What　you　do　with　him？〃
　Vernon　said；　〃He　loved　taking　us　camping。〃
　Philip　leaned　back　and　barked　a　laugh。　〃Appalling　camping　trips　with　rain　and　mosquitoes；　during　which　he　brutalized　us　with　camp　chores。〃
　〃I　caught　my　first　fish　on　one　of　those　trips；〃　Vernon　said。
　〃So　did　I；〃　said　Tom。
　〃Camping？　What　is　camping？〃
　But　the　discussion　had　outrun　Borabay。　〃Father　needed　to　get　away　from　civilization；　to　simplify　his　existence。　Because　he　was　so　plicated　himself　he　needed　to　create　simplicity　around　him；　and　he　did　that　by　going　fishing。　He　loved　fly…fishing。〃
　Philip　scoffed。　〃Fishing；　next　to　Holy　munion；　is　perhaps　the　most　asinine　activity　known　to　man。〃
　〃That　remark　is　offensive；〃　said　Tom；　〃even　for　you。〃
　〃e　now；　Tom！　Don't　tell　me　in　your　old　age　you've　taken　up　that　flapdoodle？　That　and　Vernon's　eightfold　way。　Where　did　all　this　religiosity　e　from？　At　least　Father　was　an　atheist。　There's　one　good　thing　for　you；　Borabay：　Father　was　born　a　Catholic；　but　he　became　a　sensible；　levelheaded；　rock…ribbed　atheist。〃
　Vernon　said；　〃There's　a　lot　more　to　the　world　than　your　Armani　suits；　Philip。〃
　〃True；〃　said　Philip；　〃there's　always　Ralph　Lauren。〃
　〃Wait！〃　cried　Borabay；　〃you　all　talk　at　same　time。　I　no　understand。〃
　〃You　really　got　us　going　with　that　question；〃　said　Philip；　still　laughing。　〃Got　any　more？〃
　〃Yes。　What　you　like　as　sons？〃　Borabay　asked。
　Philip's　laugh　died　away。　The　jungle　rustled　beyond　the　light　of　the　fire。
　〃I'm　not　sure　what　you　mean；〃　said　Tom。
　Borabay　said；　〃You　tell　me　what　kind　of　father　he　is　to　you。　Now　I　ask　what　kind　of　sons　you　are　to　him。〃
　〃We　were　good　sons；〃　said　Vernon。　〃We　tried　to　get　with　the　program。　We　did　everything　he　wanted。　We　followed　his　rules；　we　gave　him　damn　musical　concerts　every　Sunday；　we　went　to　all　our　lessons　and　tried　to　win　the　games　we　played；　not　very　successfully；　perhaps；　but　we　tried。〃
　〃You　do　what　he　ask；　but　what　you　do　that　he　not　ask？　You　help　him　hunt？　You　help　him　put　roof　back　on　house　after　storm？　You　make　dugout　with　him？　You　help　him　when　he　sick？〃
　Tom　suddenly　had　the　sensation　of　being　set　up　by　Borabay。　This　was　what　he　had　been　getting　at　all　along。　He　wondered　what　Maxwell　Broadbent　had　talked　about　with　his　eldest　son　in　the　last　month　of　his　life。
　Philip　said；　〃Father　hired　people　to　do　all　those　things　for　him。　Father　had　a　gardener；　a　cook；　a　lady　who　cleaned　the　house；　people　to　fix　the　roof。　And　he　had　a　nurse。　In　America　you　buy　what　you　need。〃
　〃That's　not　what　he　means；〃　said　Vernon。　〃He　wants　to　know　what　we　did　for　Father　when　he　was　sick。〃
　Tom　felt　his　face　flushing。
　〃When　he　sick　with　the　cancer；　what　you　do？　You　go　to　his　house？　Stay　with　him？〃
　〃Borabay；〃　Philip　said；　his　voice　shrill；　〃it　would　have　been　utterly　useless　to　impose　ourselves　on　the　old　man。　He　wouldn't　have　wanted　us。〃
　〃You　let　stranger　take　care　of　Father　when　he　sick？〃
　〃I'm　not　going　to　stand　a　lecture　from　you；　or　anyone；　on　my　duties　as　a　son；〃　cried　Philip。
　〃I　not　lecture。　I　ask　simple　question。〃
　〃The　answer　is　yes。　We　let　a　stranger　take　care　of　Father。　He　made　our　lives　miserable　growing　up；　and　we　couldn't　wait　to　escape　from　him。　That's　what　happens　when　you're　a　bad　father…your　sons　leave　you。　They　run；　they　flee。　They　can't　wait　to　get　away　from　you！〃
　Borabay　rose　to　his　feet。　〃He　your　father；　good　or　bad。　He　feed　you；　he　protect　you；　he　raise　you。　He　make　you。〃
　Philip　stood　up　in　a　fury　himself。　〃Is　that　what　you　call　that　vile　eruption　of　bodily　fluid？　Making　us？　We　were　accidents；　each　one　of　us。　What　kind　of　father　is　it　who　takes　children　away　from　their　mothers？　What　kind　of　father　is　it　who　raises　us　like　we're　some　kind　of　experiment　in　creating　genius？　Who　drags　us　out　into　the　jungle　to　die？〃
　Borabay　took　a　swing　at　Philip；　and　it　happened　so　fast　that　it　seemed　Philip　just　disappeared　backward　into　the　darkness。　Borabay　stood；　five　feet　of　painted　fury；　his　fists　clenching　and　unclenching。　Philip　sat　up　in　the　dust　beyond　the　fire　and　coughed。　〃Ugh。〃　He　spat。　His　lip　was　bloody　and　swelling　rapidly。
　Borabay　stared　at　him；　breathing　hard。
　Philip　wiped　his　face；　and　then　a　smile　spread　across　it。　〃Well；　well。　The　eldest　brother　finally　asserts　his　place　in　the　family。〃
　〃You　no　speak　about　Father　like　that。〃
　〃I'll　speak　about　him　any　way　I　want；　and　no　illiterate　savage　is　going　to　make　me　change　my　mind。〃
　Borabay　clenched　his　fists　but　did　not　make　a　further　move　toward　Philip。
　Vernon　helped　Philip　stand　up。　Philip　dabbed　at　his　lip；　but　the　look　on　his　face　was　triumphant。　Borabay　stood　with　uncertainty；　seeming　to　realize　that　he　had　made　a　mistake；　that　by　striking　his　brother　he　had　somehow　lost　the　argument。
　〃Okay；〃　said　Sally。　〃Enough　talk　about　Maxwell　Broadbent。　We　can't　afford　to　fight　at　a　time　like　this；　and　you　all　know　it。〃
　She　looked　at　Borabay。　〃Looks　like　dinner's　burned。〃
　Borabay　silently　removed　the　blackened　shish　kebabs　and　began　parceling　them　out　on　leaves。
　Philip's　harsh　phrase　rang　in　Tom's　mind：　That's　what　happens　when　you're　a　bad　father…your　sons　leave　you。　And　he　wondered：　Was　that　what　they　had　done？
　
　55
　
　Mike　Graff　settled　in　the　wing　chair　by　the　fire；　folding　his　neat　legs　one　across　the　other；　an　alert；　pleasant　expression　on　his　face。　It　amazed　Skiba　how；　in　spite　of　everything；　Graff　managed　to　keep　that　crisp　B…school　aura　of　self…confidence。　Graff　could　be　paddling　Charon's　own　boat　down　the　River　Styx　toward　the　very　gates　of　hell；　and　he'd　still　be　sporting　that　fresh…faced　look；　persuading　his　fellow　passengers　that　heaven　was　just　around　the　corner。
　〃What　can　I　do　for　you；　Mike？〃　Skiba　asked　pleasantly。
　〃What's　with　the　stock　these　past　two　days？　It's　gone　up　ten　percent。〃
　Skiba　shook　his　head。　The　house　was　on　fire　while　Graff　was　in　the　kitchen　plaining　about　cold　coffee。　〃Just　be　glad　that　we　survived　the　piece　in　the　Journal　about　Phloxatane。〃
　〃All　the　more　reason　to　worry　why　our　stock　is　going　up。
　〃Look；　Mike…〃
　〃Lewis；　you　didn't　tell　Fenner　last　week　about　the　Codex；　did　you？〃
　〃I　did。〃
　〃Christ。　You　know　what　a　scumbag　that　guy　is。　We're　in　enough　trouble　as　it　is　without　adding　insider　trading　to　our　bill　of　fare。〃
　Skiba　looked　at　the　man。　He　really　should　have　got