p&c.brimstone-第27部分

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son；　carrying　a　crystal　wand　in　one　hand　and　a　live　hamster　in　the　other。　Nah：　too　weird。　Someone　more　representative。　Like　that　kid　with　the　Mohawk　not　far　away；　in　black。　A　pimply　middle…class　suburban　kid　trying　to　be　different。　
　〃Excuse　me！〃　He　elbowed　his　way　toward　the　youth。　〃Excuse　me！New　York　Post　。　Can　I　ask　a　few　questions？〃　
　The　kid　looked　toward　him；　eyes　lighting　up。　They　were　all　so　eager　for　their　fifteen　nanoseconds　of　fame。　
　〃Why　are　you　here？〃　
　〃Haven't　you　heard？　The　devil　has　e！〃　The　kid's　face　positively　shone。　〃Some　guy　up　there。　He's　just　like　the　one　out　on　Long　Island。　The　devil　took　his　soul；　fried　him　to　a　crisp！　Dragged　him　down　to　hell；　kicking　and　screaming。〃　
　〃How'd　you　hear　about　this？〃　
　〃It's　all　over　the　Web。〃　
　〃By　why　areyou　；　personally；　here？〃　
　The　kid　looked　at　him　as　if　the　question　was　idiotic。　〃Why　do　you　think？　To　pay　my　respects　to　the　Man　in　Red。〃　
　Now　a　group　of　aging　hippies　started　to　sing　〃Sympathy　for　the　Devil〃　in　cracked　falsettos。　The　smell　of　pot　wafted　toward　him。　Harriman　struggled　to　hear；　to　think；　amidst　the　hubbub。　〃Where　are　you　from？〃　
　〃Me　and　my　buddies　came　over　from　Fort　Lee。〃　Some　of　his　〃buddies〃　were　now　crowding　around；　all　dressed　exactly　like　he　was。　〃Who's　this　guy？〃　one　asked。　
　〃Reporter　from　thePost　。〃　
　〃No　kidding。〃　
　〃Take　my　picture！〃　
　To　pay　my　respects　to　the　Man　in　Red。There　was　his　quote。　Time　to　wrap　it　up。　〃Name？　Spell　it。〃　
　〃Shawn　O'Connor。〃　
　〃Age？〃　
　〃Fourteen。〃　
　Unbelievable。〃Okay；　Shawn；　one　last　question。　Why　the　devil？　What's　so　important　about　the　devil？〃　
　〃He's　theman　！〃　he　whooped；　and　his　friends　took　up　the　cry；　high…fiving　each　other。　〃Theman　！〃　
　Harriman　moved　off。　God；　the　world　was　full　of　morons；　they　were　breeding　like　rabbits；　especially　in　New　Jersey。　Now　he　needed　a　contrast；　someone　who　took　all　this　seriously。　A　priest…he　needed　a　priest。　Just　his　luck：　there　were　two　men　with　collars；　quiet；　standing　not　far　away。　
　〃Excuse　me！〃　he　called　out；　forcing　his　way　toward　them　through　the　growing　crowd。　As　the　two　turned　to　him；　Harriman　was　taken　aback　by　the　expressions　on　their　faces。　Fear；　real　fear；　mingled　with　the　sorrow　and　pain。　
　〃Harriman　with　thePost　。　May　I　ask　what　you're　doing　here？〃　
　The　older　of　the　two　men　stepped　forward。　He　had　a　lot　of　dignity；　he　really　seemed　out　of　place　in　this　hysteria。　〃We're　bearing　witness。〃　
　〃Witness　to　what？〃　
　〃The　last　earthly　days。〃　The　way　the　man　said　it　sent　a　flurry　of　goose　bumps　along　Harriman's　spine。　
　〃You　really　think　the　world's　ing　to　an　end？〃　
　The　man　quoted　solemnly：　〃'Babylon　the　great　is　fallen；　is　fallen；　and　is　bee　the　habitation　of　devils；　and　the　hold　of　every　foul　spirit。'〃　
　The　other；　younger　man　nodded。　〃'She　shall　be　utterly　burned　with　fire：　for　strong　is　the　Lord　God　who　judgeth　her。　And　the　kings　of　the　earth；　who　have　mitted　fornication　and　lived　deliciously　with　her；　shall　bewail　her；　and　lament　for　her；　when　they　shall　see　the　smoke　of　her　burning。'〃　
　〃'Alas；　alas；　that　great　city　Babylon；　that　mighty　city！'〃　the　first　priest　went　on。　〃'For　in　one　hour　is　thy　judgment　e。'〃　
　Harriman　had　drawn　out　his　pad　and　was　scribbling　to　get　this　down；　but　the　first　priest　laid　a　gentle　hand　over　his。　〃Revelation；　chapter　18。〃　
　〃Right；　thanks。　What　church　are　you　from？〃　
　〃Our　Lady　of　Long　Island　City。〃　
　〃Thanks。〃　Harriman　got　their　names　and　backed　away　hastily；　tucking　his　notebook　into　his　pocket。　Their　calmness；　their　certitude；　spooked　him　more　than　all　the　hysteria　around　him。　
　There　was　a　stirring　along　one　edge　of　the　crowd。　A　small　convoy　of　police　cars　was　approaching；　lights　flashing。　There　was　a　sudden　eruption　of　flashes　and　television　lights。　He　pushed　forward；　brutally　shoving　his　way　through　a　group　of　soundmen：　he　was　Harriman　of　thePost　；　he　wasn't　going　to　sit　at　the　back　of　the　class。　But　the　crowd　itself　was　now　surging　forward；　desperate　for　news。　
　A　woman　had　stepped　out　of　an　unmarked　cruiser　at　the　rear　of　the　convoy；　dressed　in　a　suit　but　with　a　shield　riding　shotgun　on　what　looked　like　an　amazing　set　of　knockers：　a　really　good…looking　young　woman；　with　a　bunch　of　men　now　falling　into　place　behind　her。　Young；　but　clearly　in　charge。　It　looked　to　Harriman　like　she　didn't　want　to　talk　to　the　crowd　at　all；　but　needed　to　take　charge　before　things　grew　any　uglier。　
　She　positioned　herself　behind　a　barricade　of　uniformed　cops　and　held　up　her　hand　against　the　clamor　of　the　press。　
　〃Five　minutes　for　questions。　Then　this　crowd　is　going　to　have　to　disband。〃　
　More　incoherent　yelling　as　a　thicket　of　boom　microphones　was　thrust　forward。　
　She　waited；　surveying　the　crowd；　while　the　shouting　continued。　Finally　she　checked　her　watch　and　spoke　again。　〃Four　minutes。〃　
　That　shut　up　the　rows　of　press。　The　rest…the　party　people；　the　witches　and　satanists；　the　weirdos　with　crystals　or　perfumes…realized　something　interesting　was　about　to　happen　and　quieted　down　a　little　as　well。　
　〃I'm　Captain　Laura　Hayward　of　NYPD　Homicide。〃　She　spoke　in　a　clear　but　soft　voice；　which　forced　the　crowd　to　quiet　further；　straining　to　listen。　〃The　deceased　is　Nigel　Cutforth；　who　died　at　approximately　11：15　last　night。　Cause　of　death　is　unknown　at　this　point；　but　homicide　is　suspected。〃　
　Tell　me　something　new；　Harriman　said　to　himself。　
　〃I'll　take　a　few　questions　now；〃　she　said。　There　was　an　eruption　of　shouting；　and　she　pointed　at　one　frantically　waving　journalist。　
　The　questions　tumbled　out。　〃Have　the　police　noted　connections　between　this　and　the　death　of　Jeremy　Grove？　Are　there　similarities？　Differences？〃　
　A　wry　smile　appeared　on　her　lips。　〃We　have。　Yes　and　yes。　Next？〃　
　〃Any　suspects？〃　
　〃Not　at　this　point。〃　
　〃Was　there　a　burned　hoofprint　or　any　other　sign　of　the　devil？〃　
　〃No　hoofprint。〃　
　〃We　heard　there　was　a　face　scorched　into　the　wall？〃　
　The　smile　left　the　woman's　face　briefly。　〃It　was　an　irregular　blotch　that　suggested　a　face　to　some。〃　
　〃What　kind　of　face？〃　
　The　wry　smile。　〃Those　who've　claimed　to　see　the　face　have　labeled　it　ugly。〃　
　This　caused　a　renewed　clamor。　
　〃Is　it　the　face　of　the　devil？　Horns？　Did　it　have　horns？〃　These　questions　were　shouted　simultaneously　by　a　dozen　people。　The　mikes　boomed　in　closer；　knocking　against　each　other。　
　〃Not　having　seen　the　devil；〃　Hayward　answered；　〃I　can't　say。　There　were　no　horns　I'm　aware　of。〃　
　Harriman　scribbled　frantically　in　his　notebook。　A　bunch　of　reporters　were　now　asking　if　she　thought　it　was　the　devil；　but　she　was　ignoring　this。　Oh　my　God；　was　that　Geraldo　shouting　over　there？　He　definitely　should've　been　here　last　night。　
　〃Was　it　the　devil？　What's　your　opinion？〃　was　cried　from　several　quarters　at　once。　
　She　held　up　a　hand。　〃I'd　like　to　answer　that　question。〃　
　That　really　shut　them　up。　
　〃We　have　enough　flesh…and…blood　devils　in　this　town；　thank　you；　that　we　don't　need　to　conjure　up　any　supernatural　ones。〃　
　〃So　how　did　he　die？〃　a　reporter　shouted。　〃What　were　the　injuries　caused　by？　Was　he　cooked；　like　the　other　one？〃　
　〃An　autopsy　is　currently　under　way。　We'll　be　able　to　tell　you　more　when　it's　pleted。〃　She　was　talking　calmly　and　rationally；　but　Harriman　wasn't　fooled。　The　NYPD　didn't　even　begin　to　have　a　handle　on　the　case…and　he'd　be　saying　as　much　in　his　story。　
　〃Thank　you；〃　she　was　saying；　〃and　good　afternoon。　Now；　let's　break　it　up；　people。〃　
　More　clamor。　More　police　were　arriving　and　working　to　control　the　crowd　at　last；　pushing　them　back；　setting　up　barricades；　directing　traffic。　
　Harriman　turned　away；　already　writing　the　lead　in　his　head。　This　was　one　hell　of　a　story。　At　last…at　long；　long　last…he　was　going　to　get　a　run　for　his　money。　
　　　
　23　
　
　As　the　vintage　Rolls…Royce　approached　the　gates　of　the　EastCove　Yacht　Harbor；　D'Agosta　shifted　in　the　backseat；　staring　out　the　window；　trying　to　forget　just　how　stiff　and　sore　he　felt。　What　with　Cutforth's　murder　and　all　the　attendant　crime…scene　business；　he　couldn't　have　gotten　more　than　two　hours'　sleep。　
　For　this　particular　errand；　Pendergast　had　left　his　chauffeur；　Proctor；　behind；　preferring　to　drive　the　big　car　himself。　It　was　a　beautiful　fall　day；　and　the　morning　sun　shimmered　on　the　bay　like　silver　coins　tossed　on　the　waves。　The　Staten　Island　ferry　was　lumbering　out　of　its　berth；　churning　the　water　behind；　flags　snapping；　trailed　by　a　screaming　flock　of　seagulls。　The　blue　hump　of　Staten　Island　rose　on　the　horizon；　grading　imperceptibly　into　the　low　outline　of　New　Jersey。　The　smell　of　salt　air　flowed　in　the　open　windows。　
　D'Agosta　turned　his　gaze　toward　the　marina。　A　wall　kept　the　gaze　of　the　vulgar　from　the　ranks　of　gleaming　yachts；　but　from　the　top　of　Coenties　Slip　you　could　still　see　them　lined　up　in　their　berths；　splendid　and　sparkling　in　the　bright　sun。　
　〃You're　never　going　to　get　in　without　a　warrant；〃　said　D'Agosta。　〃I　talked　to　Bullard。　I　know　what　the　guy's　like。〃　
　〃We　shall　see；〃　said　Pendergast。　〃I　always　prefer　to　start　with　a　gentle　approach。〃　
　〃And　if　the　gentle　approach　doesn't　work？〃　
　〃Firmer　measures　might　be　in　order。〃　
　D'Agosta　wondered　what　Pendergast's　idea　of　〃firmer〃　was。　
　Pendergast　slowed　the　Rolls　and；　turning　to　a　custom…built　cherrywood