p&c.brimstone-第75部分

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'Agosta　saw　him　reach　into　his　jacket。　
　〃He's　got　a　gun！〃　
　D'Agosta　planted　himself　against　the　passenger　door　and　waited；　his　own　weapon　at　the　ready。　He　doubted　that　a　man　on　a　motorcycle；　going　eighty　miles　an　hour　on　a　winding　mountain　road；　could　fire　with　any　accuracy…but　he　wasn't　going　to　take　any　chances。　
　With　a　burst　of　speed；　the　motorcycle　closed　again；　the　gun　leveling；　steadying。　D'Agosta　aimed　his　weapon。　
　〃Wait　until　he　fires；〃　Pendergast　murmured。　
　There　was　a　bang　and　a　blue　puff；　instantly　whisked　away；　a　simultaneous　thump；　and　the　back　window　went　abruptly　opaque；　a　web　of　cracks　running　away　from　a　perfect　9mm　hole。　An　instant　later　Pendergast　braked　with　terrifying　suddenness；　throwing　D'Agosta　forward　against　the　seat　belt；　then　swerved　and　accelerated　again。　
　D'Agosta　unbuckled　the　seat　belt；　jumped　into　the　backseat；　kicked　away　the　sagging　rear　window；　steadied　his　gun；　and　fired。　The　cyclist　swerved　and　dropped　back　behind　a　curve；　kicking　his　way　down　through　the　gears。　
　〃The　bastard…！〃　
　The　car　slid　into　the　next　corner；　fishtailing　on　loose　gravel　and　sliding　perilously　close　to　the　cliff　edge。　D'Agosta　knelt　in　the　rear　seat；　hardly　daring　to　breathe；　aiming　through　the　ruined　window；　ready　to　fire　as　soon　as　the　motorcycle　reappeared。　As　they　ripped　around　another　hillside；　he　saw　the　Ducati　flash　into　view　about　a　hundred　yards　back。　
　Pendergast　downshifted；　the　engine　screaming　with　the　effort；　the　rpm　needle　redlining。　The　car　went　into　another　long；　sickening　turn。　
　As　they　accelerated　out　of　the　curve；　the　road　emerged　onto　a　shoulder　of　a　mountain；　heading　straight　through　a　long；　dark　forest　of　pine　trees；　tunneling　into　shade。　A　sign　flashed　past：Chiusi　della　Verna　13km。　Keeping　watch　on　their　rear；　D'Agosta　could　see　a　whirlwind　of　dancing　pine　needles　thrown　up　by　their　passage。　
　。　。　。　And　there　came　the　Ducati；　swinging　around　the　curve。　D'Agosta　aimed　but　it　was　an　impossible　shot；　two　hundred　yards　back　from　a　moving　car。　He　sat；　awaiting　his　chance。　
　With　a　piercing　whine；　the　motorcycle　came　surging　forward；　screaming　into　fifth；　then　sixth　gear；　approaching　at　ever…increasing　speed。　The　man　had　put　away　his　gun；　and　both　his　gloved　hands　were　on　the　handlebars；　his　head　lowered。　
　〃He's　going　to　try　another　run　past　us。〃　
　〃No　doubt。〃　Pendergast　stayed　in　the　center　of　the　road；　accelerator　floored。　
　But　the　car　was　no　match　for　the　Ducati。　It　came　straight　up　behind　them；　accelerating　all　the　way。The　thing　must　top　out　at　a　hundred　and　eighty　；　D'Agosta　thought。　He　knew　it　would　try　to　turn　and　dart　past　them　at　the　last　moment；　and　there　would　be　no　way　for　Pendergast　to　guess　if　the　rider　would　veer　to　the　right　or　the　left。　He　steadied　his　gun。　He　had　vastly　improved　his　shooting　from　many　sessions　at　the　27th　Precinct　range；　but　with　the　vibration；　the　motion　of　the　car；　the　motion　of　the　bike…it　was　going　to　be　tough。　The　bike　was　going　at　least　twice　their　speed　now；　ing　up　on　them　fast　。　。　。　
　D'Agosta　squeezed　off　a　shot；　aiming　low　at　the　machine；　and　missed。　
　The　car　made　a　violent　motion　to　the　right　as　the　bike　came　blasting　past　on　the　left…dual　silencers　flashing；　rider　leaning　so　far　forward　he　seemed　draped　over　the　front　fork…and　was　gone　around　the　next　curve。　
　〃I　lost　that　coin　toss；〃　Pendergast　said　dryly。　
　They　were　now　approaching　the　curve　themselves；　their　speed　beyond　any　possibility　of　controlling　the　turn。　Pendergast　braked　hard　while　simultaneously　jamming　on　the　gas　pedal　and　twisting　the　wheel　left。　The　car　spun　violently　around；　twice；　perhaps　three　times…D'Agosta　was　too　shaken　to　be　sure…before　ing　to　rest　on　the　very　edge　of　the　cliff。　
　They　paused　just　a　moment；　the　acrid　smell　of　burned　brake　pads　wafting　over　the　car。　
　〃Fiat；　for　all　its　troubles；　still　knows　how　to　make　a　decent　vehicle；〃　said　Pendergast。　
　〃Eurocar　isn't　going　to　like　this；〃　D'Agosta　replied。　
　Pendergast　jammed　on　the　gas；　and　the　car　screeched　back　onto　the　road；　accelerating　into　the　next　turn。　
　They　tore　through　the　fir　forest　once　again　before　mounting　another　series　of　steep　switchbacks；　worse　than　the　last。　D'Agosta　felt　his　stomach　begin　to　rise　unfortably。　He　allowed　himself　a　single　glance　out　over　the　edge。　Far　below…very；　very　far　below…he　could　see　the　Casentino　Valley；　dotted　with　fields　and　villages。　He　looked　quickly　away。　
　Turn　after　turn　they　mounted；　Pendergast　driving　in　grim　silence。　D'Agosta　reloaded　and　checked　his　gun：　it　beat　looking　out　the　window。　Suddenly　houses　flashed　past；　and　they　whipped　through　the　town　of　Chiusi　della　Verna；　Pendergast　leaning　on　the　horn；　pedestrians　jumping　into　the　doorway　of　a　shop　in　terror　as　the　car　blasted　by；　clipping　the　side…view　mirror　from　a　parked　van　and　sending　it　bouncing　and　rolling　down　the　street。　Just　past　town　was　another　faded　sign：Santuario　della　Verna　6km。　
　The　road　climbed　steadily　through　a　steep　forest；　one　brutally　sharp　turn　after　another。　And　then　suddenly　they　emerged　from　the　trees　into　a　meadow；　and　there…directly　ahead　but　still　a　thousand　feet　above　them…stood　the　monastery　of　La　Verna：　a　great　tangle　of　ancient　stone；　perched　on　a　crag　that　seemed　to　hang　over　open　space。　It　was　windowless；　so　old　and　vast　and　scarred　by　time　it　looked　a　part　of　the　cliff　face　itself。　Despite　everything；　D'Agosta　felt　a　chill　go　down　his　spine；　he　knew　from　Sunday　school　that　this　was　perhaps　the　holiest　Christian　monastery　in　the　world；　built　in　1224　by　St。　Francis　himself。　
　The　car　blasted　back　into　the　forest　and　the　monastery　disappeared　from　view。　〃Have　we　got　a　chance？〃　D'Agosta　asked。　
　〃It　depends　on　how　quickly　our　man　finds　Father　Zenobi。　The　monastery　is　a　big　place。　If　only　they　had　a　phone！〃　
　The　car　careened　around　another　turn。　D'Agosta　could　hear　a　bell　ringing；　the　faint　sound　of　chanting　floating　toward　him　over　the　noise　of　the　engine。　
　〃I　think　the　monks　are　at　prayer；〃　he　said。　He　glanced　at　his　watch。　It　would　be　the　service　of　Sext：　sixth　hour　of　the　Opus　Dei。　
　〃Yes。　Most　unfortunate。〃　Pendergast　pushed　the　car　around　the　final　bend；　wheels　slipping　on　ancient；　mossy　cobbles　instead　of　asphalt。　
　The　cobbled　road…clearly　never　built　to　be　driven　upon…led　up　behind　the　monastery。　There；　at　the　stone　archway　leading　through　the　outer　wall　of　the　monastery　into　a　massive　cloister；　D'Agosta　saw　the　Ducati　lying　on　its　tubular　frame；　fat　rear　wheel　still　spinning　lazily。　
　Pendergast　slewed　to　a　stop　and　was　out；　gun　drawn；　even　before　the　car　was　pletely　at　rest。　D'Agosta　followed　hard　on　his　heels。　They　ran　past　the　bike；　across　a　stone　bridge；　and　into　the　cloisters。　A　large　chapel　stood　to　the　right；　its　doors　wide；　the　vigorous　sounds　of　plainchant　rising　and　falling　on　the　cool　breeze。　As　they　ran；　the　chanting　seemed　to　hesitate；　then　die　away　in　a　ragged　confusion。　
　They　rushed　into　the　church　just　in　time　to　see　the　figure　in　red　leather…his　arm　extended；　rigid…fire　point…blank　into　an　old　monk；　who　was　kneeling；　his　hands　raised　in　surprise　or　prayer。　The　report　of　the　gun　was　shockingly　loud　in　the　confined　space；　reverberating　even　as　the　notes　of　the　plainsong　died　away。　D'Agosta　shouted　out　in　dismay；　rage；　and　horror　as　the　priest　fell　and　the　shooter　raised　his　gun；　execution　style；　taking　careful　aim　for　a　second　shot。　
　　　
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　In　the　predawn　light；　Hayward　stood　with　Captain　Grable　on　arocky　point　just　north　of　the　Central　Park　Arsenal。　From　here；　they　manded　a　good　view　of　the　tent　city；　still　slumbering　in　the　quiet　morning　air。　They'd　been　briefed　on　the　location　of　Wayne　Buck's　tent；　and　she　could　make　it　out　clearly：　a　large　green　canvas　job　in　the　heart　of　the　encampment。　
　Hayward's　misgivings　increased。　This　was　no　clean　shot；　in　and　out。　The　makeshift　city　had　grown　much　larger　than　she　realized：　there　had　to　be　three　hundred　tents；　maybe　more；　scattered　through　the　foliage。　And　the　landscape　wouldn't　help：　deep　green　swales　and　leafy　hollows；　surrounded　by　grassy　hummocks；　their　sides　frequently　exposing　long　swaths　of　dark　gray　rock。　Through　the　thicket　of　tree　branches；　she　could　just　make　out…parked　along　Fifth…the　cop　car　that　would　take　Buck　away。　It　was　idling　on　the　park　side　of　the　avenue；　right　opposite　the　entrance　to　Cutforth's　building。　
　Fact　was；　this　was　just　about　the　last　place　she　wanted　to　be　at　the　moment。　By　rights　she　should　be　pursuing　the　Cutforth　murder。　She　shouldn't　be　out　here…not　anymore；　not　when　there　was　an　open　homicide　to　be　worked。　It　felt　too　much　like　the　bad　old　days　when　she　was　a　rouster　for　the　transit　police。　
　She　glanced　at　Grable。　She　had　talked　to　D'Agosta　the　night　before；　briefly；　and　now　she　wished　he　was　here。　There　was　a　guy　you　could　count　on。　As　for　Grable…　
　Grable　adjusted　his　tie；　squared　his　shoulders。　〃Let's　circle　around　and　e　in　from　the　west。〃　He　was　sweating；　his　shirt　plastered　to　his　chest　despite　the　cool　morning。　
　Hayward　nodded。　〃As　I　see　it；　the　key　here　isspeed　。　We　don't　want　to　be　caught　in　there。〃　
　Grable　swallowed；　hiked　up　his　belt。　〃Captain；　unlike　some　in　the　force；　I　didn't　waste　my　time　in　the　classroom　piling　up　degrees。　I　came　up　through　the　rank　and　file。　I　know　what　I'm