p&c.brimstone-第30部分

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　Ahead；　the　traffic　ing　in　from　West　Street　began　to　bunch　up。　He　cursed；　leaned　on　his　horn。　He　should've　taken　the　subway。　At　this　rate；　he　wouldn't　reach　the　office　until　after　five；　and　he　had　to　file　by　ten　to　make　the　morning　edition。　
　He　wrote　and　rewrote　the　lead；　tearing　it　up　again　and　again　in　his　head。　He　thought　back　to　the　mob　scene　in　front　of　Cutforth's　apartment　building　earlier　that　afternoon。　Those　were　the　people　he　was　writing　for：　people　desperate　for　the　story；　hungry　for　it。　And　he　had　an　open　field；　with　Smithback　gone　and　theTimes　treating　the　story　as　a　kind　of　local　embarrassment。　
　Cutforth's　murder　would　be　good　for　one　headline；　maybe　two。　But　still；　he　was　bound　by　the　whim　of　the　murderer；　and　there　was　no　way　of　telling　when…or　if…the　murderer　would　strike　again。　Hehad　to　have　something　new。　
　The　traffic　parted　slightly　and　he　switched　lanes；　flipping　a　bird　at　the　blaring　horn　behind　him；　switched　back；　risking　his　life　and　those　of　half　a　dozen　others　to　get　one　car　length　ahead。　Flipped　another　bird。　People　were　such　assholes　。　。　。　
　。　。　。　And　then　it　came　to　him。　The　fresh　angle。　What　he　needed　was　an　expert　to　explain；　to　put　it　all　in　perspective。　But　who？　Just　as　quickly　the　answer；　the　second　stroke　of　genius；　came　as　well。　
　He　picked　up　his　cell；　dialed　his　office。　〃Iris；　what's　up？〃　
　〃What's　up　yourself？〃　his　assistant　retorted。　〃I've　been　as　busy　as　a　one…legged　man　at　an　ass…kicking　contest　answering　the　phones　around　here。〃　
　Harriman　winced　at　the　jokey；　familiar　tone　she　had　taken　with　him。　He　was　supposed　to　be　the　boss；　not　the　secretary　in　the　next　cubicle。　
　〃You　want　your　messages？〃　she　asked。　
　〃No。　Listen；　I　want　you　to　get　ahold　of　somebody　for　me；　that　researcher　into　the　paranormal；　what's　his　name；　Monk；　or　Munch；　something　German。　He　had　that　Discovery　Channel　special　on　exorcism；　remember？　Yes；　that's　the　one。　No；　I　don'tcare　how　long　it　takes。　Just　get　him　for　me。〃　
　He　punched　the　call　off　and　tossed　the　phone　on　the　passenger　seat；　sat　back；　and　smiled；　letting　the　cacophony　of　honks；　toots；　and　beeps　that　surrounded　his　car　wash　over　him　like　a　symphony。　
　　　
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　D'Agosta　had　to　admire　the　genius　that　went　into　maintainingthe　interrogation　section　of　One　Police　Plaza。　It　was　perhaps　the　last　place　you　could　smoke　in　New　York　City　without　being　arrested；　and　as　a　result；　the　painted　cinder…block　walls　sported　a　tarry；　brownish　sheen。　They　made　a　point　of　keeping　them　grimy。　The　air　was　so　dead　and　stale　it　felt　like　there　must　be　a　corpse　hidden　somewhere。　And　the　linoleum　floor　was　so　old　it　could　have　been　peeled　up　and　put　in　a　glass　case　in　the　Smithsonian。　
　D'Agosta　felt　a　certain　satisfaction　in　the　surroundings。　Locke　Bullard；　still　dressed　in　blue　warm…ups　and　deck　shoes；　sat　in　a　chair　at　the　greasy　metal　table；　his　eyes　bloodshot　with　anger。　Pendergast　sat　across　from　him；　and　D'Agosta　stood　behind；　near　the　door。　The　civilian　interrogations　administrator…a　mandatory　presence　these　days…stood　by　the　video　camera；　sucking　in　his　belly　and　trying　to　look　officious。　They　were　all　waiting　on　Bullard's　lawyer；　stuck　somewhere　in　the　traffic　of　their　own　making。　
　The　door　opened　and　Captain　Hayward　stepped　in。　As　she　did　so；　D'Agosta　felt　the　temperature　in　the　room　go　down　by　about　twenty　degrees。　She　fastened　cold　eyes　on　Pendergast；　then　on　D'Agosta；　and　motioned　them　to　follow　her　into　the　hall。　
　She　led　the　way　to　a　disused　office；　ushered　them　in；　closed　the　door。　〃Whose　idea　was　the　media　circus？〃　she　demanded。　
　〃Unfortunately　it　was　the　only　way；〃　Pendergast　answered。　
　〃Don't　give　me　that。　This　was　staged；　and　you　were　both　producer　and　director。　There　must　be　fifty　press　outside；　every　last　one　following　you　over　from　the　marina。　This　isexactly　what　I　didn't　want　to　happen；　the　kind　of　hullabaloo　I　warned　you　against　creating。〃　
　Pendergast　spoke　calmly。　〃Captain；　I　can　assure　you　that　Bullard　left　us　no　choice。　For　a　moment；　I　thought　I　would　have　to　handcuff　him。〃　
　〃You　should've　scheduled　a　meeting　on　the　boat　with　his　lawyer；　so　he　wouldn't　feel　ambushed　and　defensive。〃　
　〃There's　a　good　chance　that　more　advance　warning　would　have　caused　him　to　flee　the　country。〃　
　Hayward　expelled　an　irritated　stream　of　air。　〃I'm　a　captain　of　detectives　in　the　New　York　City　police　force。　This　is　my　case。　Bullard's　not　a　suspect　and　willnot　be　treated　as　such。〃　She　swiveled　to　face　D'Agosta。　〃You're　going　to　manage　the　questioning；　Sergeant。　I　want　Special　Agent　Pendergast　to　remain　well　in　the　background　with　his　mouth　shut。　He's　caused　enough　trouble　as　it　is。〃　
　〃As　you　wish；〃　Pendergast　said　politely　to　Hayward's　turned　back。　
　When　they　stepped　back　into　the　interrogation　room；　Bullard　rose　to　his　feet；　pointing　to　Pendergast。　〃You're　going　to　pay　for　this；　both　you　and　your　fat　fuck　gofer　here。〃　
　〃Did　you　get　that　on　videotape？〃　Hayward　calmly　asked　the　civilian　administrator。　
　〃Yes；　ma'am。　Tape's　been　rolling　since　he　arrived。〃　
　She　nodded。　Bullard's　pupils　were　pinpoints　of　hatred。　
　Silence　fell；　broken　at　last　by　a　knock　at　the　door。　
　〃e　in；〃　Hayward　called。　
　The　door　opened；　and　a　uniformed　policeman　admitted　a　man　dressed　in　a　charcoal　suit。　He　had　short…cropped　gray　hair；　gray　eyes；　and　a　pleasant；　friendly　face。　D'Agosta　noticed　the　glint　of　a　half…hidden　cross　beneath　the　officer's　blue　shirt　as　he　turned　and　closed　the　door。Hayward　may　not　believe　in　the　devil　；　he　thought；but　not　all　her　minions　have　gotten　the　message。　
　〃Finally！〃　Bullard　roared　out；　staring　at　the　lawyer。　〃Jesus　Christ；　George；　I　called　you　forty　minutes　ago。　Get　me　the　hell　out　of　here。〃　
　The　lawyer；　unruffled；　greeted　Bullard　as　if　they　were　all　at　a　cocktail　party。　Then　he　turned　and　shook　Pendergast's　hand。　〃George　Marchand　of　Marchand　&　Quisling。　I　represent　Mr。　Bullard。〃　His　voice　was　almost　musical　in　its　pleasantness；　but　his　eyes　lingered　first　over　Hayward's　badge；　then　D'Agosta's。　
　〃This　is　my　colleague　Sergeant　D'Agosta。〃　
　〃How　do　you　do？〃　
　There　was　a　silence　as　Marchand　turned　his　cool　eyes　around　the　room。　〃The　subpoena？〃　
　Pendergast　slipped　a　copy　from　his　black　suit　and　handed　it　to　the　lawyer。　The　man　scrutinized　it。　
　〃That's　your　copy；〃　said　Hayward。　Her　voice　was　deadpan；　neutral。　
　〃Thank　you。　May　I　ask　why　this　questioning　could　not　be　done　at　Mr。　Bullard's　convenience　in　his　offices　or　on　his　yacht？〃　He　addressed　the　question　in　general；　to　all　of　them。　Hayward　nodded　toward　D'Agosta。　
　〃On　an　earlier　occasion　at　Mr。　Bullard's　club；　he　refused　to　answer　questions。　On　this　particular　occasion；　he　threatened　me　with　what　I　think　a　reasonable　person　might　consider　implied　blackmail。　He　gave　every　sign　of　imminent　departure　from　the　country。　His　information　is　crucial　in　our　investigation。〃　
　〃Is　he　a　suspect？〃　
　〃No。　But　he's　an　important　witness。〃　
　〃I　see。　And　this　implied　threat　of　blackmail…what's　that　all　about？〃　
　〃It's　a　goddamned…；〃　Bullard　began。　
　The　lawyer　cut　Bullard　off　with　a　wave　of　his　hand。　
　〃The　threat　was　made　in　my　presence；〃　Pendergast　spoke　up。　〃Mr。　Bullard　made　a　second　threat；　just　before　you　arrived；　for　the　benefit　of　the　video　recorder。〃　
　〃You're　a　damned　liar…〃　
　〃Not　one　more　word；　Mr。　Bullard。　I　believe　you've　said　more　than　enough　as　it　is。〃　
　〃For　Christ's　sake；　George；　these　men　are…〃　
　〃Quiet。〃The　lawyer　spoke　pleasantly；　but　there　was　a　curious　emphasis　in　his　tone。　
　Bullard　fell　silent。　
　〃My　client；〃　the　lawyer　said；　〃is　anxious　to　cooperate。　Here's　how　it　will　work。　First；　you　will　ask　the　question。　Then；　if　necessary；　I　will　confer　privately　with　my　client　in　the　hall。　And　then　he　will　give　his　response。　Agreed？〃　
　〃Agreed；〃　said　Hayward。　〃Swear　him　in。〃　
　They　went　through　the　process；　the　civilian　administrator　presiding；　Bullard　grunting　his　responses。　At　the　conclusion；　he　turned　again　to　his　lawyer。　〃Damn　it；　George；　you're　supposed　to　be　on　my　side！〃　
　〃My　client　and　I　need　to　confer　privately。〃　
　Marchand　took　Bullard　out　into　the　hallway。　A　minute　later　they　were　back。　
　〃First　question；〃　the　lawyer　said。　
　D'Agosta　stepped　forward；　glanced　down　at　his　notes；　and　droned　out；　in　his　most　stolid　cop　voice：　〃Mr。　Bullard；　on　October　16；　2：02A。M。　；　Jeremy　Grove　called　you。　You　spoke　with　him　for　forty…two　minutes。　What　did　you　talk　about？　Start　at　the　beginning　and　proceed　through　the　call。〃　
　〃I　already…〃　He　stopped　when　Marchand　laid　a　firm　hand　on　his　shoulder。　They　went　out　into　the　hall　again。　
　〃You're　not　going　to　let　him　do　this　with　every　question；　are　you？〃　D'Agosta　asked。　
　〃Yes；　I　am；〃　said　Hayward。　〃He　has　a　right　to　a　lawyer。〃　
　The　two　men　returned。　〃Grove　called　me　to　chat；〃　Bullard　said。　〃A　social　call。〃　
　〃That　late？〃　
　Bullard　looked　at　his　lawyer　and　the　lawyer　nodded。　
　〃Yes。〃　
　〃What　did　you　chat　about？〃　
　〃Just　like　I　told　you　before。　Pleasantries。　How　he　was　doing；　how　I　was　doing；　how　the　family　was　doing；　how　the　dog　was　doing；　that　sort　of　thing。〃　
　〃What　else？〃　
　〃I　don't　recall。〃　
　Silence。　〃Mr。　Bullard。　You　talked　for　forty…two　minutes　about　your　dogs；　then　within　hours　Grove　is　murdered。〃　
　〃That　wasn't　a　question；〃　said　the　law