cb.imajica1-第12章

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s　among　them…neither　had　struck　her　yet。　It　was　the　mystery　of　what　had　happened　that　kept　her　awake　at　night。　Who　was　he；　this　man　who　knew　her　name；　who　got　up　from　a　collision　that　should　have　killed　him　outright　and　still　managed　to　outrun　a　healthy　man？　And　why　had　she　projected　upon　his　face　the　likeness　of　John　Za…charias？　Twice　she'd　begun　to　tell　Marlin　about　the　meeting　in　and　outside　Bloomingdale's；　twice　she'd　rechanneted　the　conversation　at　the　last　moment；　unable　to　face　his　benign　condescension。　This　enigma　was　hers　to　unravel；　and　sharing　it　too　soon；　perhaps　at　all；　might　make　the　solving　impossible。
　In　the　meantime；　Marlin's　apartment　felt　very　secure。　There　were　two　doormen：　Sergio　by　day　and　Freddy　by　night。　Marlin　had　given　them　both　a　detailed　description　of　the　assailant；　and　instructions　to　let　nobody　up　to　the　second　floor　without　Ms。　Odell's　permission；　and'even　then　they　were　to　acpany　visitors　to　the　apartment　door　and　escort　them　out　if　his　guest　chose　not　to　see　them。　Nothing　could　harm　her　as　long　as　she　stayed　behind　closed　doors。　Tonight；　with　Marlin　working　until　nine　and　a　late　dinner　planned；　she'd　decided　to　spend　the　early　evening　assigning　and　wrapping　the　presents　she'd　accumulated　on　her　various　Fifth　Avenue　sorties；　sweetening　her　labors　with　wine　and　music。　Marlin's　record　collection　was　chiefly　seduction　songs　of　his　sixties　adolescence；　which　suited　her　fine。　She　played　smoochy　soul　and　sipped　well…chilled　Sauvignon　as　she　pottered；　more　than　content　with　her　own　pany。　Once　in　a　while　she'd　get　up　from　the　chaos　of　ribbons　and　tissue　and　go　to　the　window　to　watch　the　cold。　The　glass　was　misting。　She　didn't　clear　it。　Let　the　world　lose　focus。　She　had　no　taste　for　it　tonight。
　There　was　a　woman　standing　at　one　of　the　third…story　windows　when　Gentle　reached　the　intersection；　just　gazing　out　at　the　street。　He　watched　her　for　several　seconds　before　the　casual　motion　of　a　hand　raised　to　the　back　of　her　neck　and　run　up　through　her　long　hair　identified　the　silhouette　as　Judith。　She　made　no　backward　glance　to　signify　the　presence　of　anyone　else　in　the　room。　She　simply　sipped　from　her　glass；　and　stroked　her　scalp；　and　watched　the　murky　night。　He　had　thought　it　would　be　easy　to　approach　her；　but　now；　watching　her　remotely　like　this；　he　knew　otherwise。
　The　first　time　he'd　seen　her…all　those　years　ago…he'd　felt　something　close　to　panic。　His　whole　system　had　been　stirred　to　nausea　as　he　relinquished　power　to　the　sight　of　her。　The　seduction　that　had　followed　had　been　both　an　homage　and　a　revenge：　an　attempt　to　control　someone　who　exercised　an　authority　over　him　that　defied　analysis。　To　this　day　he　didn't　understand　that　authority。　She　was　certainly　a　bewitching　woman；　but　then　he'd　known　others　every　bit　as　bewitching　and　not　been　panicked　by　them。　What　was　it　about　Judith　that　threw　him　into　such　confusion　now；　as　then？　He　watched　her　until　she　left　the　window；　then　he　watched　the　window　where　she'd　been；　but　he　wearied　of　that；　finally；　and　of　the　chill　in　his　feet。　He　needed　fortification：　against　the　cold；　against　the　woman。　He　left　the　corner　and　trekked　a　few　blocks　east　until　he　found　a　bar；　where　he　put　two　bourbons　down　his　throat　and　wished　to　his　core　that　alcohol　had　been　his　addiction　instead　of　the　opposite　sex。
　At　the　sound　of　the　stranger's　voice；　Freddy；　the　night　doorman；　rose　muttering　from　his　seat　in　the　nook　beside　the　elevator。　There　was　a　shadowy　figure　visible　through　the　ironwork　filigree　and　bulletproof　glass　of　the　front　door。　He　couldn't　quite　make　out　the　face；　but　he　was　certain　he　didn't　know　the　caller；　which　was　unusual。　He'd　worked　in　the　building　for　five　years　and　knew　the　names　of　most　of　the　occupants'　visitors。　Grumbling；　he　crossed　the　mirrored　lobby；　sucking　in　his　paunch　as　he　caught　sight　of　himself。　Then；　with　chilled　fingers；　he　unlocked　the　door。　As　he　opened　it　he　realized　his　mistake。　Though　a　gust　of　icy　wind　made　his　eyes　water；　blurring　the　caller's　features；　he　knew　them　well　enough。　How　could　he　not　recognize　his　own　brother？　He'd　been　about　to　call　him　and　find　out　what　was　going　on　in　Brooklyn　when　he'd　heard　the　voice　and　the　rapping　on　the　door。
　〃What　are　you　doing　here；　Fly？〃
　Fly　smiled　his　missing…toothed　smile。　〃Thought　I'd　just　drop　in；〃　he　said。
　〃You　got　some　problem？〃
　〃No；　everything's　fine；〃　Fly　said。　Despite　all　the　evidence　of　his　senses；　Freddy　was　uneasy。　The　shadow　on　the　step；　the　wind　in　his　eye；　the　very　fact　that　Fly　was　here　when　he　never　came　into　the　city　on　weekdays：　it　all　added　up　to　something　he　couldn't　quite　catch　hold　of。
　〃What　you　want？〃　he　said。　〃You　shouldn't　be　here。〃
　〃Here　I　am；　anyway；〃　Fly　said；　stepping　past　Freddy　into　the　foyer。　〃I　thought　you'd　be　pleased　to　see　me。〃
　Freddy　let　the　door　swing　closed；　still　wrestling　with　his　thoughts。　But　they　went　from　him　the　way　they　did　in　dreams。　He　couldn't　string　Fly's　presence　and　his　doubts　together　long　enough　to　know　what　one　had　to　do　with　the　other。
　〃I　think　I'll　take　a　look　around；〃　Fly　was　saying；　heading　towards　the　elevator。
　〃Wait　up！　You　can't　do　that。〃
　〃What　am　I　going　to　do？　Set　fire　to　the　place？〃
　〃I　said　no！〃　Freddy　replied　and；　blurred　vision　notwithstanding；　went　after　Fly；　overtaking　him　to　stand　between　his　brother　and　the　elevator。　His　motion　dashed　the　tears　from　his　eyes；　and　as　he　came　to　a　halt　he　saw　the　visitor　plainly。　〃You're　not　Fly！〃　he　said。
　He　backed　away　towards　the　nook　beside　the　elevator；　where　he　kept　his　gun；　but　the　stranger　was　too　quick。　He　reached　for　Freddy　and；　with　what　seemed　no　more　than　a　flick　of　his　wrist；　pitched　him　across　the　foyer。　Freddy　let　out　a　yell；　but　who　was　going　to　e　and　help？　There　was　nobody　to　guard　the　guard。　He　was　a　dead　man。
　Across　the　street；　sheltering　as　best　he　could　from　the　blasts　of　wind　down　Park　Avenue；　Gentle…who'd　returned　to　his　station　barely　a　minute　before…caught　sight　of　the　doorman　scrabbling　on　the　foyer　floor。　He　crossed　the　street；　dodging　the　traffic；　reaching　the　door　in　time　to　see　a　second　figure　stepping　into　the　elevator。　He　slammed　his　fist　on　the　door；　yelling　to　stir　the　doorman　from　his　stupor。
　〃Let　me　in！　For　God's　sake；　let　me　in！〃
　Two　floors　above；　Jude　heard　what　she　took　to　be　a　domestic　argument　and；　not　wanting　somebody　else's　marital　strife　to　sour　her　fine　mood；　was　crossing　to　turn　up　the　soul　song　on　the　turntable　when　somebody　knocked　on　the　door。
　〃Who's　there？〃　she　said。
　The　summons　came　again；　not　acpanied　。by　any　reply。　She　turned　the　volume　down　instead　of　up　and　went　to　the　door；　which　she'd　dutifully　bolted　and　chained。　But　the　wine　in　her　system　made　her　incautious；　she　fumbled　with　the　chain　and　was　in　the　act　of　opening　the　door　when　doubt　entered　her　head。　Too　late。　The　man　on　the　other　side　took　instant　advantage。　The　door　was　slammed　wide；　and　he　came　at　her　with　the　speed　of　the　vehicle　that　should　have　killed　him　two　nights　before。　There　were　only　phantom　traces　of　the　lacerations　that　had　made　his　face　scarlet　and　no　hint　in　his　motion　of　any　bodily　harm。　He　had　healed　miraculously。　Only　the　expression　bore　an　echo　of　that　night。　It　was　as　pained　and　as　lost…even　now；　as　he　came　to　kill　her…as　it　had　been　when　they'd　faced　each　other　in　the　street。　His　hands　reached　for　her；　silencing　her　scream　behind　his　palm。
　〃Please；〃　he　said。
　If　he　was　asking　her　to　die　quietly；　he　was　out　of　luck。
　She　raised　her　glass　to　break　it　against　his　face　but　he　intercepted　her；　snatching　it　from　her　hand。　〃Judith！〃　he　said。
　She　stopped　struggling　at　the　sound　of　her　name；　and　his　hand　dropped　from　her　face。
　〃How　the　fuck　do　you　know　who　I　am？〃　〃I　don't　want　to　hurt　you；〃　he　said。　His　voice　was　downy；　his　breath　orange…scented。　The　perversest　desire　came　into　her　head；　and　she　cast　it　out　instantly。　This　man　had　tried　to　kill　her；　and　this　talk　now　was　just　an　attempt　to　quiet　her　till　he　tried　again。　〃Get　away　from　me。〃　〃I　have　to　tell　you…〃
　He　didn't　step　away；　nor　did　he　finish。　She　glimpsed　a　movement　behind　him；　and　he　saw　her　look；　turning　his　head　in　time　to　meet　a　blow。　He　stumbled　but　didn't　fall；　turning　his　motion　to　an　attack　with　balletic　ease　and　ing　back　at　the　other　man　with　tremendous　force。
　It　wasn't　Freddy；　she　saw。　It　was　Gentle；　of　all　people。　The　assassin's　blow　threw　him　back　against　the　wall；　hitting　it　so　hard　he　brought　books　tumbling　from　the　shelves；　but　before　the　assassin's　fingers　found　his　throat　he　delivered　a　punch　to　the　man's　belly　that　must　have　touched　some　tender　place；　because　the　assault　ceased；　and　the　attacker　let　him　go；　his　eyes　fixing　for　the　first　time　on　Gentle's　face。
　The　expression　of　pain　in　his　face　became　something　else　entirely：　in　some　part　horror；　in　some　part　awe；　but　in　the　greatest　part　some　sentiment　for　which　she　knew　no　word。　Gasping　for　breath；　Gentle　registered　little　or　none　of　this　but　pushed　himself　up　from　the　wall　to　relaunch　his　attack。　The　assassin　was　quick；　however。　He　was　at　the　door　and　out　through　it　before　Gentle　could　iay　hands　on　him。　Gentle　took　a　moment　to　ask　if　Judith　was　all　right…　which　she　was…then　raced　in　pursuit。
　The　snow　had　e　again；　its　veil　dropping　between　Gentle　and　Pie。　The　assassin　was　fast；　despite　the　hurt　done　him；　but　Gentle　was　determined　not　to　let　the　bastard　slip。　He　chased　He　across　Park　Avenue　and　west　on　80th；　his　heels　sliding　on　the　sleet…slickened　ground。　Twice　his　quarry　threw　him　backward　glances；　and　on　the　second　occasion　seemed　to　slow　his　pace；　as　if　he　might　stop　and　attempt　a　truce；　but　then　thought　better　of　it　and　put　on　an　extra　turn　of　speed。　It　carried　him　over　Madison　towards　Central　Park。　If　he　reached　its　sanctuary；　Gentle　knew；　he'd　be　gone。　Throwing　every　last　ounce　of　energy　into　the　pursuit；　Gentle　came　within　snatching　distance。　But　even　as　he　reached　for　the　man　he　lost　his　footing。　He　fell　headlong；　his　arms　flailing；　and　struck　the　street　hard　enough　to　lose　consciousness　for　a　few　seconds。　When　he　opened　his　eyes；　the　taste　of　blood　sharp　in　his　mouth；　he　expected　to　see　the　assassin　disappearing　into　the　shadows　of　the　park；　but　the　bizarre　Mr。　Pie　was　standing　at　the　curb；　looking　back　at　him。　He　continued　to　watch　as　Gentle　got　up；　his　face　betraying　a　mournful　empathy　with　Gentle's　bruising。　Before　the　chase　could　begin　again　he　spoke；　his　voice　as　soft　and　melting　as　the　sleet。
　〃Don't　follow　me；〃　he　said。
　〃You　leave　her　。　。　。　the　fuck　。　。　。　alone；〃　Gentle　gasped；　knowing　even　as　he　spoke　he　had　no　way　of　enforcing　this　edict　in　his　present　state。
　But　the　man's　reply　was　affirmation。　〃I　will；〃　he　said。　〃But　please；　I　beg　you　。　。　。　forget　you　ever　set　eyes　on　me。〃
　As　he　spoke　he　began　to　take　a　backward　step；　and　for　an　instant　Gentle's　dizzied　brain　almost　thought　it　possible　the　man　would　retreat　into　nothingness：　be　proved　spirit　rather　than　substance。
　〃Who　are　you？〃　he　found　himself　asking。
　〃Pie　'oh'　pah；〃　the　man　returned；　his　voice　perfectly　matched　to　the　soft　expellations　of　those　syllables。
　〃But　who？〃
　〃Nobody　and　nothing；〃　came　the　second　reply；　acpanied　by　a　backward　step。
　He　took　another　and　another；　each　pace　putting　further　layers　of　sleet　between　them。　Gentle　began　to　follow；　but　the　fall　had　left　him　aching　in　eve