cb.imajica1-第11章

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and　kept　his　counsel。〃
　〃I　know　very　little；〃　Dowd　protested。
　〃But　enough　to　know　there's　an　anniversary　imminent；〃　Shales　said。
　My；　my；　Dowd　thought；　they're　not　as　stupid　as　they　look。
　〃You　mean　the　Reconciliation？〃　he　said。
　〃That's　exactly　what　I　mean。　This　ing　midsummer…〃
　〃Do　we　have　to　spell　it　out？〃　Bloxham　said。　〃He　already　knows　more　than　he　should。〃
　Shales　ignored　the　interruption　and　was　beginning　again　when　a　voice　so　far　unheard；　emanating　from　a　bulky　figure　sitting　beyond　the　reach　of　the　light；　broke　in。　Dowd　had　been　waiting　for　this　man；　Matthias　McGann；　to　say　his　piece。　If　the　Tabula　Rasa　had　a　leader；　this　was　he。
　〃Hubert？〃　he　said。　〃May　I？〃
　Shales　murmured；　〃Of　course。〃
　〃Mr。　Dowd；〃　said　McGann；　〃I　don't　doubt　that　Oscar　has　been　indiscreet。　We　all　have　our　weaknesses。　You　must　be　his。　Nobody　here　blames　you　for　listening。　But　this　Society　was　created　for　a　very　specific　purpose　and　on　occasion　has　been　obliged　to　act　with　extreme　severity　in　the　pursuit　of　that　purpose。　I　won't　go　into　details。　As　Giles　says；　you're　already　wiser　than　any　of　us　would　like。　But　believe　me；　we　will　silence　any　and　all　who　put　this　Dominion　at　risk。〃
　He　leaned　forward。　His　face　announced　a　man　of　good　humor；　presently　unhappy　with　his　lot。
　〃Hubert　mentioned　that　an　anniversary　is　imminent。　So　it　is。　And　forces　with　an　interest　in　subverting　the　sanity　of　this　Dominion　may　be　readying　themselves　to　celebrate　that　anniversary。　So　far；　this〃…he　pointed　to　the　newspaper…〃is　the　only　evidence　we'd　found　of　such　preparations；　but　if　there　are　others　they　will　be　swiftly　terminated　by　this　Society　and　its　agents。　Do　you　understand？〃
　He　didn't　wait　for　an　answer。
　〃This　sort　of　thing　is　very　dangerous；〃　he　went　on。　〃People　start　to　investigate。　Academics。　Esoterics。　They　start　to　question；　and　they　start　to　dream。〃
　〃I　could　see　how　that　would　be　dangerous；〃　Dowd　said。
　〃Don't　smarm；　you　smug　little　bastard；〃　Bloxham　burst　out。　〃We　all　know　what　you　and　Godolphin　have　been　doing。　Tell　him；　Hubert！〃
　〃I've　traced　some　artifacts　of　。　。　。　nonterrestrial　origin　。　。　。　that　came　my　way。　The　trail；　as　it　were；　leads　back　to　Oscar　Godolphin。〃
　〃We　don't　know　that；〃　Lionel　put　in。　〃These　buggers　lie。〃
　〃I'm　satisfied　Godolphin's　guilty；〃　Alice　Tyrwhitt　said。　〃And　this　one　with　him。〃
　〃I　protest；〃　Dowd　said。
　〃You've　been　dealing　in　magic；〃　Bloxham　hollered。　〃Admit　it！〃　He　rose　and　slammed　the　table。　〃Admit　it！〃
　〃Sit　down；　Giles；〃　McGann　said。
　〃Look　at　him；〃　Bloxham　went　on；　jabbing　his　thumb　in　Dowd's　direction。　〃He's　guilty　as　hell。〃
　〃I　said　sit　down；〃　McGann　replied；　raising　his　voice　ever　so　slightly。　Cowed；　Bloxham　sat。　〃You're　not　on　trial　here；〃　McGann　said　to　Dowd。　〃It's　Godolphin　we　want。〃
　〃So　find　him；〃　Feaver　said。
　〃And　when　you　do；〃　Shales　said；　〃tell　him　I've　got　a　few　items　he　may　recognize。〃
　The　table　fell　silent。　Several　heads　turned　in　Matthias　McGann's　direction。　〃I　think　that's　it；〃　he　said。　〃Unless　you　have　any　remarks　to　make？〃
　〃I　don't　believe　so；〃　Dowd　replied。
　〃Then　you　may　go。〃
　Dowd　took　his　leave　without　further　exchange；　escorted　as　far　as　the　lift　by　Charlotte　Feaver　and　left　to　make　the　descent　alone。　They　were　better　informed　than　he'd　imagined；　but　they　were　some　way　from　guessing　the　truth。　He　turned　over　passages　of　the　interview　as　he　drove　back　to　Regent's　Park　Road；　mitting　them　to　memory　for　later　recitation。　Wakeman's　drunken　irrelevancies；　Shales's　indiscretion；　McGann；　smooth　as　a　velvet　scabbard。　He'd　repeat　it　all　for　Godolphin's　edification；　especially　the　cross…questioning　about　the　absentee's　whereabouts。
　Somewhere　in　the　East；　Dowd　had　said。　East　Yzordder…rex；　maybe；　in　the　Kesparates　built　close　to　the　harbor　where　Oscar　liked　to　bargain　for　contraband　brought　back　from　Hakaridek　or　the　islands。　Whether　he　was　there　or　some　other　place；　Dowd　had　no　way　of　fetching　him　back。　He　would　e　when　he　would　e；　and　the　Tabula　Rasa　would　have　to　bide　its　time；　though　the　longer　he　was　away　the　more　the　likelihood　grew　of　one　of　their　number　voicing　the　suspicion　some　of　them　surely　nurtured：　that　Godolphin's　dealings　in　talismans　and　wantons　were　only　the　tip　of　the　iceberg。　Perhaps　they　even　suspected　he　took　trips。
　He　wasn't　the　only　Fifther　who'd　jaunte4　between　Dominions；　of　course。　There　were　many　routes　from　Earth　to　the　Reconciled　Dominions；　some　safer　than　others　but　all　used　at　one　time　or　another；　and　not　always　by　magicians。　Poets　had　found　their　way　over　（and　sometimes　back；　to　tell　the　tale）；　so　had　a　good　number　of　priests　over　the　centuries；　and　hermits；　meditating　on　their　essence　so　hard　the　In　Ovo　enveloped　them　and　spat　them　into　another　world。　Any　soul　despairing　or　inspired　enough　could　get　access。　But　few　in　Dowd's　experience　had　made　such　a　monplace　of　it　as　Godolphin。
　These　were　dangerous　times　for　such　jaunts；　both　here　and　there。　The　Reconciled　Dominions　had　been　under　the　control　of　Yzordderrex's　Autarch　for　over　a　century；　and　every　time　Godolphin　returned　from　a　trip　he　had　new　signs　of　unrest　to　report。　From　the　margins　of　the　First　Dominion　to　Patashoqua　and　its　satellite　cities　in　the　Fourth；　voices　were　raised　to　stir　rebellion。　There　was　as　yet　no　consensus　on　how　best　to　overe　the　Autarch's　tyranny；　only　a　simmering　unrest　which　regularly　erupted　in　riots　or　strikes；　the　leaders　of　such　mutinies　invariably　found　and　executed。　In　fact；　on　occasion　the　Autarch's　suppressions　had　been　more　Draconian　still。　Entire　munities　had　been　destroyed　in　the　name　of　the　Yzordderrexian　Empire：　tribes　and　small　nations　deprived　of　their　gods；　their　lands；　and　their　right　to　procreate；　others；　simply　eradicated　by　pogroms　the　Autarch　personally　supervised。　But　none　of　these　horrors　had　dissuaded　Godolphin　from　traveling　in　the　Reconciled　Dominions。　Perhaps　tonight's　events　would；　however；　at　least　until　the　Society's　suspicions　had　been　allayed。
　Tiresome　as　it　was；　Dowd　knew　he　had　no　choice　as　to　where　he　went　tonight：　to　the　Godolphin　estate　and　the　folly　in　its　deserted　grounds　which　was　Oscar's　departure　place。　There　he　would　wait；　like　a　dog　grown　lonely　at　its　master's　absence；　until　Godolphin's　return。　Oscar　was　not　the　only　one　who　would　have　to　muster　some　excuses　in　the　near　future；　so　would　he。　Killing　Chant　had　seemed　like　a　wise　maneuver　at　the　time…and；　of　course；　an　agreeable　diversion　on　a　night　without　a　show　to　go　to…but　Dowd　hadn't　predicted　the　furor　it　would　cause。　With　hindsight；　that　had　been　naive。　England　loved　murder；　preferably　with　diagrams。　And　he'd　been　unlucky；　what　with　the　ubiquitous　Mr。　Burke　of　the　Somme　and　a　low　quota　of　political　scandals　conspiring　to　make　Chant　posthumously　famous。　He　would　have　to　be　prepared　for　Godolphin's　wrath。　But　hopefully　it　would　be　subsumed　in　the　larger　anxiety　of　the　Society's　suspicions。　Godolphin　would　need　Dowd　to　help　him　calm　these　suspicions；　and　a　man　who　needed　his　dog　knew　not　to　kick　it　too　hard。
　
　
　7
　
　Gentle　called　Klein　from　the　airport；　minutes　before　he　caught　his　flight。　He　presented　Chester　with　a　severely　edited　version　of　the　truth；　making　no　mention　of　Esta…brook's　murder　plot　but　explaining　that　Jude　was　ill　and　had　requested　his　presence。　Klein　didn't　deliver　the　tirade　that　Gentle　had　anticipated。　He　simply　observed；　rather　wearily；　that　if　Gentle's　word　was　worth　so　little　after　all　the　effort　he；　Klein；　had　put　into　finding　work　for　him；　it　was　perhaps　best　that　they　end　their　business　relationship　now。　Gentle　begged　him　to　be　a　little　more　lenient；　to　which　Klein　said　he'd　call　Gentle's　studio　in　two　days'　time　and；　if　he　received　no　answer；　would　assume　their　deal　was　no　longer　valid。
　〃Your　dick'll　be　the　death　of　you；〃　he　mented　as　he　signed　off。
　The　flight　gave　Gentle　time　to　think　about　both　that　re…；　mark　and　the　conversation　on　Kite　Hill；　the　memory　of　which　still　vexed　him。　During　the　exchange　itself　he'd　moved　from　suspicion　to　disbelief　to　disgust　and　finally　to　acceptance　of　Estabrook's　proposal…　But　despite　the　fact　that　the　man　had　been　as　good　as　his　word；　providing　ample　funds　for　the　trip；　the　more　Gentle　returned　to　the　conversation　in　memory；　the　more　that　first　response…suspicion…was　reawakened。　His　doubts　circled　around　two　elements　of　Estabrook's　story：　the　assassin　himself　（this　Mr。　Pie；　hired　out　of　nowhere）　and；　more　particularly；　around　the　man　who'd　introduced　Estabrook　to　his　hired　hand：　Chant；　whose　death　had　been　media　fodder　for　the　past　several　days。
　The　dead　man's　letter　was　virtually　inprehensible；　as　Estabrook　had　warned；　veering　from　pulpit　rhetoric　to　opiate　invention。　The　fact　that　Chant；　knowing　he　was　going　to　be　murdered　（that　much　was　cogent）；　should　have　chosen　to　set　these　nonsenses　down　as　vital　information　was　proof　of　significant　derangement。　How　much　more　deranged；　then；　a　man　like　Estabrook；　who　did　business　with　this　crazy？　And　by　the　same　token　was　Gentle　not　crazier　still；　employed　by　the　lunatic's　employer？
　Amid　all　these　fantasies　and　equivocations；　however；　there　were　two　irreducible　facts：　death　and　Judith。　The　former　had　e　to　Chant　in　a　derelict　house　in　Clerkenwell；　about　that　there　was　no　ambiguity。　The　latter；　innocent　of　her　husband's　malice；　was　probably　its　next　target。　His　task　was　simple：　to　e　between　the　two。
　He　checked　into　his　hotel　at　52nd　and　Madison　a　little　after　five　in　the　afternoon；　New　York　time。　From　his　window　on　the　fourteenth　floor　he　had　a　view　downtown；　but　the　scene　was　far　from　weling。　A　gruel　of　rain；　threatening　to　thicken　into　snow；　had　begun　to　fall　as　he　journeyed　in　from　Kennedy；　and　the　weather　reports　promised　cold　and　more　cold。　It　suited　him；　however。　The　gray　darkness；　together　with　the　horn　and　brake　squeals　rising　from　the　intersection　below；　fitted　his　mood　of　dislocation。　As　with　London；　New　York　was　a　city　in　which　he'd　had　friends　once；　but　lost　them。　The　only　face　he　would　seek　out　here　was　Judith's。
　There　was　no　purpose　in　delaying　that　search。　He　ordered　coffee　from　Room　Service；　showered；　drank；　dressed　in　his　thickest　sweater；　leather　jacket；　corduroys；　and　heavy　boots；　and　headed　out。　Cabs　were　hard　to　e　by；　and　after　ten　minutes　of　waiting　in　line　beneath　the　hotel　canopy；　he　decided　to　walk　uptown　a　few　blocks　and　catch　a　passing　cab　if　he　got　lucky。　If　not；　the　cold　would　clear　his　head。　By　the　time　he'd　reached　70th　Street　the　sleet　had　bee　a　drizzle；　and　there　was　a　spring　in　his　step。　Ten　blocks　from　here　Judith　was　about　some　early　evening　occupation：　bathing；　perhaps；　or　dressing　for　an　evening　on　the　town。　Ten　blocks；　at　a　minute　a　block。　Ten　minutes　until　he　was　standing　outside　the　place　where　she　was。
　
　Marlin　had　been　as　solicitous　as　an　erring　husband　since　the　attack；　calling　her　from　his　office　every　hour　or　so；　and　several　times　suggesting　that　she　might　want　to　talk　with　an　analyst；　or　at　very　least　with　one　of　his　many　friends　who'd　been　assaulted　or　mugged　on　the　streets　of　Manhattan。　She　declined　the　offer。　Physically；　she　was　quite　well。　Psychologically　too。　Though　she'd　heard　that　victims　of　attack　often　suffered　from　delayed　repercussions…depression　and　sleeplessness　among　them…neither　had　struck　her　yet。　It　was　the　mystery　of　what　had　happened　that　kept　her　awake