p&c.brimstone-第29部分

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ormcloud　was　up；　but　in　the　rear；　a　locked　boarding　hatch　lay　just　at　dock　level。　Pendergast　stopped；　plucked　his　custom　Les　Baer　。45　from　his　jacket；　and　stepped　back；　gesturing　toward　the　hatch。　
　〃After　you；　Vincent；〃　he　said。　
　D'Agosta　reached　deep　down　in　his　memory。　What　had　they　taught　him　at　the　Academy？Don't　run　at　the　door；　swing　it　into　the　door。　He　took　a　deep　breath；　gripped　the　handles　as　tightly　as　he　could；　and　heaved　the　ram　forward。　The　door　flew　inward　with　a　satisfying　smack。　Pendergast　ducked　inside；　gun　ready；　and　D'Agosta　clambered　in　behind。　
　They　were　in　a　narrow　corridor；　with　painted　bulkheads　along　one　side　and　smoked…glass　windows　along　the　other。　Pendergast　threw　open　a　door　set　into　the　bulkheads；　and　suddenly　they　were　in　the　grand　salon　of　the　boat；　cocooned　in　plush　cream　carpeting　with　black　lacquered　tables　piped　in　gold　trim。　
　〃FBI！〃　Pendergast　barked。　〃Freeze！〃　
　Bullard　stood　in　the　center　of　the　room；　wearing　a　pale　blue　warm…up　suit；　cigar　in　hand；　with　a　look　of　plete　astonishment　and…it　seemed　to　D'Agosta…momentary　terror。　
　〃Don't　move！〃　
　Bullard　recovered　immediately；　his　face　reddening；　the　veins　pulsing　in　his　neck。　Surprise　gave　way　to　ill…concealed　rage。　He　raised　the　cigar　to　his　thick　lips；　sucked　in　a　lungful；　exhaled。　〃So。　The　sorry　fuck　brought　backup。〃　
　〃Keep　your　hands　in　view；〃　Pendergast　warned　as　he　advanced；　gun　aimed。　
　Bullard　spread　his　hands。　〃Here's　a　scene　for　your　next　novel；　D'Agosta。　Bet　you　never　saw　anything　like　this　boat　in　that　slum　you　grew　up　in　on　Carmine　Street；　with　a　cheap；　poolroom…hustling　cop　for　a　father　and　a　mother　who…〃　
　D'Agosta　rushed　at　the　man　but　Pendergast　was　even　quicker；　interposing　himself　with　lightning　speed。　〃Sergeant；　don't　give　him　what　he　wants。〃　
　D'Agosta　took　a　strangled　breath。　He　could　hardly　breathe。　
　〃e　on；〃　Bullard　sneered。　〃Let's　see　if　there's　anything　at　all　hanging　under　that　belly　of　yours。　I'm　sixty；　and　I　could　take　your　fat　ass　with　one　hand。〃　
　Pendergast　held　D'Agosta's　gaze；　shaking　his　head　slowly。　D'Agosta　swallowed；　stepped　back。　
　Pendergast　turned　and　fastened　his　silvery　eyes　on　Bullard。　
　〃And　look　at　this；　an　undertaker　playing　FBI。　White　trash　from　the　Deep　South。Very　white；　it　seems。〃　
　〃At　your　service；〃　Pendergast　said　quietly。　
　Bullard　laughed　and　swelled　like　a　black　mamba；　stretching　the　fabric　of　the　warm…up　suit。　He　still　had　his　cigar　tucked　between　two　huge　spatulate　fingers；　and　now　he　stoppered　the　laugh　by　inserting　it　between　his　lips　again　and　blowing　a　cloud　of　smoke　in　their　direction。　
　Pendergast　dropped　the　fax　on　an　ebony　table。　Then　he　pointed　to　a　large　lacquered　panel　in　the　far　wall。　〃Sergeant；　open　that　panel；　please。〃　
　〃Just　one　goddamn　minute；　you　need　a　warrant…〃　
　Pendergast　pointed　a　slender　finger　at　the　fax。　〃Read。〃　
　〃I　want　my　lawyer。〃　
　〃First；　we　will　secure　the　premises　and　obtain　the　evidence　outlined　in　the　warrant。　One　misstep　will　mean　cuffs　and　an　obstruction…of…justice　charge。　Is　there　anyone　else　on　the　boat　with　you？〃　
　〃Fuck　you。〃　
　D'Agosta　went　to　the　panel　that　Pendergast　pointed　to；　pressed　the　lone　button。　The　panel　slid　back　to　reveal　a　wall　of　electronics；　a　monitor；　and　a　keyboard。　
　〃Seize　the　CPU。〃　
　D'Agosta　pushed　the　monitor　to　one　side；　followed　its　cabling；　and　found　the　box　tucked　into　a　niche　beneath。　
　〃Don't　you　touch　my　puter。〃　
　Pendergast　nodded　toward　the　table。　〃It's　listed　in　the　warrant；　Mr。　Bullard。〃　
　D'Agosta　yanked　the　cabling　free　with　a　satisfying　jerk　and　hauled　out　the　CPU。　He　dug　into　his　pocket；　pasted　evidence　labels　over　the　drive　bays　and　the　plugs　for　the　mouse　and　keyboard；　set　down　the　box；　crossed　his　arms。　
　〃Are　you　armed？〃　Pendergast　asked　Bullard。　
　〃Of　course　not。〃　
　Pendergast　tucked　his　Les　Baer　back　into　his　suit。　〃All　right；〃　he　said；　voice　low　and　suddenly　pleasant；　the　southern　accent　rising　like　cream。　〃In　addition　to　the　warrant；　there's　a　subpoena；　Mr。　Bullard；　which　I　suggest　you　read。〃　
　〃I　want　my　lawyer。〃　
　〃Naturally。　We're　going　to　take　you　to　One　Police　Plaza　and　question　you　under　oath。　You　may　have　a　lawyer　present　at　that　time。〃　
　〃I'm　calling　my　lawyer　now。〃　
　〃You　willremain　in　the　center　of　the　room　with　your　hands　in　view　at　all　times。　You　do　not　have　a　right　to　call　a　lawyer　just　because　you　feel　like　it。　When　appropriate；　you　will　bepermitted　to　call。〃　
　〃My　ass。　You　have　no　jurisdiction。　I'll　pull　your　badge　and　eat　you　for　lunch；　you　albino　prick。　You　have　no　idea　who　you're　dealing　with。〃　
　〃I　am　sure　your　lawyer　would　advise　you　to　dispense　with　the　small　talk。〃　
　〃I'm　not　going　to　One　Police　Plaza。〃　
　Pendergast　unclipped　his　police　radio。　〃Manhattan　South？　To　whom　am　I　speaking；　please？　Shirley？　This　is　Special　Agent　Pendergast　of　the　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。　I'm　at　the　East　Cove　Yacht　Harbor；　on　the　yacht　of　Mr。　Locke　Bullard…〃　
　〃You　shut　that　radio　off　right　now。〃　
　Pendergast's　smooth　voice　continued。　〃That's　right；　Locke　Bullard；　on　his　yacht；　theStormcloud　。　We're　taking　him　in　for　questioning　in　the　Grove　and　Cutforth　murder　investigations。〃　
　D'Agosta　watched　Bullard　go　white。　No　doubt　he　knew　that　every　news　organization　in　New　York　monitored　the　police　frequencies。　
　〃No；　he's　not　a　suspect。　I　repeat：not　a　suspect。〃　
　The　very　emphasis　Pendergast　placed　on　the　word　had　the　curious　effect　of　giving　precisely　the　opposite　impression。　
　Bullard　glowered　at　them　from　beneath　his　beetled；　Cro…Magnon　brow；　swallowed；　made　an　effort　to　seem　reasonable。　〃Look；　Pendergast；　there's　no　reason　to　play　tough　cop。〃　
　〃Shirley；　we're　going　to　need　backup；　crowd　control；　and　a　squad　car　with　escort　to　take　Mr。　Bullard　downtown。　That's　right。　Three　should　do　it。　On　second　thought；　make　it　four。　We're　dealing　with　a　well…known　personality。　It's　likely　to　get　busy。〃　
　Pendergast　slipped　the　radio　back　into　his　suit；　removed　his　cell　phone；　and　tossed　it　to　Bullard。　〃Now　you　may　call　your　lawyer。　One　Police　Plaza；　interrogation　section；　basement　floor；　in　forty　minutes。　We'll　supply　the　coffee。〃　
　〃You　prick。〃　Bullard　dialed；　spoke　in　low　tones。　When　he　was　done；　he　handed　the　phone　back　to　Pendergast。　
　〃I　imagine　he　just　told　you　what　I　already　advised：　to　keep　your　mouth　firmly　closed。〃　Pendergast　smiled。　
　Bullard　said　nothing。　
　Now　Pendergast　began　poking　around　the　grand　salon；　in　a　desultory　kind　of　way；　peeking　here　and　there；　admiring　the　sporting　prints　on　the　walls。　It　was　almost　as　if　he　was　killing　time。　
　〃Are　we　going？〃　Bullard　finally　burst　out。　
　〃He's　talking　again；〃　said　D'Agosta。　
　Pendergast　nodded　absently。　〃It　seems　our　Mr。　Bullard　is　a　man　who　doesn't　listen　to　his　minders。〃　
　Bullard　fell　silent；　his　body　shaking　with　malevolence。　
　〃I　think　we　need　more　time　in　here；　Sergeant。　Just　to　check　things　over；　you　understand。〃　
　〃Right。〃　Though　he　was　still　steaming；　D'Agosta　found　he　had　to　conceal　a　smile。　Now　he　realized　what　Pendergast　was　up　to。　
　Pendergast　continued　strolling　about　the　room；　adjusting　a　newspaper　here；　looking　at　a　framed　lithograph　there。　Ten　more　minutes　passed　as　Bullard　grew　increasingly　restive。　Now　D'Agosta　began　to　hear　faint　sirens；　the　distant　squawk　of　a　bullhorn。　Pendergast　picked　up　a　copy　ofFortune　；　flipped　through　it；　laid　it　back　down。　He　checked　his　watch。　〃Do　you　see　anything　of　interest　I　might　have　missed；　Sergeant　D'Agosta？〃　
　〃Have　you　checked　the　photo　album？〃　
　〃An　excellent　idea。〃　Pendergast　opened　the　album；　flipped　through　it。　At　a　couple　of　pages；　his　hand　paused　and　an　intent　look　came　into　his　face。　He　seemed　to　be　memorizing　faces；　at　least；　it　seemed　so　to　D'Agosta。　
　He　shut　it　with　a　sigh。　〃Shall　we；　Mr。　Bullard？〃　
　The　man　turned　and　shrugged　into　a　windbreaker；　his　face　dark。　Pendergast　led　the　way；　followed　by　Bullard。　D'Agosta　brought　up　the　rear；　battering　ram　over　his　shoulder。　As　they　stepped　out　of　the　hatch　onto　the　dock；　the　crowd　noise　increased　dramatically。　There　was　shouting；　the　whoops　of　police　sirens；　the　megaphoned　voice　of　an　official。　Beyond　the　gates；　photographers　were　jockeying　for　position。　The　police　were　struggling　to　clear　a　lane　for　their　vehicles　to　pass。　
　Seeing　this；　Bullard　stopped　short。　〃You　bastard。〃　He　almost　spat　the　words　at　Pendergast。　〃You　delayed　deliberately；　letting　this　build。〃　
　〃Why　hide　your　light　under　a　bushel；　Mr。　Bullard？〃　
　〃Yeah；〃　said　D'Agosta。　〃And　you're　going　to　look　great　on　the　cover　of　theDaily　News　with　your　windbreaker　draped　over　your　head。〃　
　　　
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　Bryce　Harriman　headed　back　uptown　behind　the　wheel　of　aPostpress　vehicle。　The　scene　at　the　lower　Manhattan　marina　had　been　a　disaster。　Except　for　a　few　rubberneckers；　it　was　New　York　City　press　at　their　finest…swearing；　pushing；　shoving。　It　reminded　Harriman　of　the　running　of　the　bulls　at　Pamplona。　What　a　waste　of　time。　Nobody　had　answered　questions；　nobody　knew　anything；　nothing　but　chaos　and　shouting。　He　should　have　gone　straight　back　to　his　office　to　write　up　the　scene　of　Cutforth's　murder　rather　than　wasting　time　chasing　this　radio　call。　
　Ahead；　the　traffic　ing　in　from　West　Street　began　to　bunch　up。　He　cursed；　leaned　on　his　horn。　He　should've　tak