cc.fireice-第43章

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se　that　wouldn't　get　past　a　kindergarten　teacher；　but　if　Dodson　suspected　the　subterfuge；　he　didn't　let　on。　He　said　he　would　be　available　all　day　and　gave　directions　to　his　house。
　
　
　AS　THE　BRITISH　Airways　jet　began　the　final　approach　to　Heathrow　Airport；　Zavala　looked　off　toward　London　with　longing　in　his　soulful　eyes。　He　wondered　if　the　auburn…haired　journalist　he　had　dated　still　lived　in　Chelsea　and　thought　how　nice　it　would　be　to　catch　up　on　old　times　over　tandoori　at　a　favorite　Indian　restaurant　on　Oxford　Street。　With　Herculean　resolve；　he　pushed　the　thought　from　his　mind。　Prying　an　old　family　secret　out　of　a　reluctant　British　aristocrat　would　be　hard　enough　without　feminine　distractions。
　
　Zavala　breezed　through　customs；　picked　up　his　rental　car　and　headed　for　the　Cotswolds；　the　historic　Gloucestershire　countryside　a　few　hours'　drive　from　London。　He　hoped　none　of　the　bean　counters　back　at　NUMA　would　have　a　heart　attack　when　they　saw　the　bill　for　renting　a　Jaguar　convertible。　Zavala　rationalized　that　the　small　luxury　helped　pensate　for　the　dent　NUMA　was　putting　in　his　love　life。　At　this　rate；　he　ruminated　grimly；　he'd　be　joining　a　monastery。
　
　Turning　off　the　main　highway；　he　drove　briskly　along　meandering　narrow　roads；　some　no　wider　than　cow　paths；　doing　his　best　to　stay　to　the　left。　The　picturesque　landscape　looked　like　pictures　from　a　calendar。　The　rolling　hills　and　pastures　were　almost　unnatural　in　their　greenness。　Sturdy　houses　of　honey…brown　stone　clustered　in　the　villages　and　dotted　the　unspoiled　countryside。
　
　Lord　Dodson　lived　in　a　tiny　hamlet　that　looked　like　a　village　in　one　of　those　British　mysteries；　the　ones　in　which　everyone　is　suspected　of　the　vicar's　murder。　Dodson's　house　stood　off　by　itself　on　a　winding　lane　slightly　wider　than　the　car。　Zavala　followed　a　gravel　drive　hemmed　in　by　hedgerows　and　pulled　up　next　to　a　vintage　Morris　Minor　pickup　truck。　The　truck　was　parked　in　front　of　a　substantial　two…story　structure　of　warm　brown　stone　and　dark　tile　roof。　The　cottage　was　nothing　like　the　manor　Zavala　had　imagined　an　English　lord　would　live　in。　A　stone　wall　ringed　the　house；　enclosing　colorful　flower　gardens。　A　man　dressed　in　patched　cotton　slacks　and　a　faded　work　shirt　was　knee…deep　in　blossoms。
　
　Assuming　the　man　was　the　gardener；　Zavala　got　out　of　the　car　and　said；　〃Excuse　me。　I'm　looking　for　Sir　Nigel　Dodson。〃
　
　A　white　stubble　covered　the　man's　chin。　He　removed　his　soiled　cotton　work　gloves　and　extended　his　hand　in　a　firm　grip。　〃I'm　Dodson；〃　he　said；　to　Zavala's　surprise。　〃You　must　be　the　American　gentleman　who　called　yesterday。〃
　
　Zavala　hoped　Dodson　didn't　see　his　embarrassment。　After　hearing　the　upper…class　accent　on　the　phone；　Zavala　had　pictured　a　craggy…chinned　Englishman　in　tweeds　with　a　bushy　upturned　mustache　decorating　a　stiff　upper　lip。　Dodson　was　actually　a　small；　slim；　balding　man。　He　was　probably　in　his　seventies；　but　he　looked　as　fit　as　a　man　twenty　years　his　junior。
　
　〃Are　those　orchids？〃　Zavala　asked。　His　family's　adobe　house　in　Santa　Fe　was　surrounded　by　flower　beds。
　
　〃That's　right。　These　are　frog　orchids。　Spotted　here；　pyramidal　there。〃　Dodson　raised　an　eyebrow　in　a　hint　that　his　own　stereotype　of　Americans　had　been　shattered。　〃I'm　surprised　you　recognized　them。　They　don't　look　like　those　big　meaty　plants　everybody　thinks　about　when　you　mention　orchids。〃
　〃My　father　was　crazy　about　flowers。　Some　of　those　blossoms　looked　familiar。〃
　〃Well；　I'll　have　to　show　you　around　after　we're　done。　Now；　you　must　be　thirsty　after　your　trip；　Mr。　Zavala。　You　said　you　were　in　Istanbul？　Haven't　been　there　in　years。　Fascinating　city。〃　He　invited　Zavala　to　follow　him　around　behind　the　house　to　an　expansive　flagstone　patio。　Dodson　called　in　through　the　open　French　doors　to　his　housekeeper；　a　stout　ruddy…faced　woman　named　Jenna。　She　eyed　Zavala　as　if　he　were　an　insect　her　employer　had　picked　off　one　of　his　orchids　and　brought　them　tall　glasses　of　iced　tea。　They　sat　under　an　oriental　pergola　laced　with　ivy。　The　broad　lawn；　as　well　manicured　as　a　golf　course；　sloped　down　to　a　slow…　flowing　river　and　extensive　marshes。　A　boat　was　tied　up　at　a　small　dock。
　
　Dodson　sipped　his　tea　and　gazed　out　at　the　vista。　〃Paradise。　Sheer　paradise。〃　His　piercing　blue　eyes　turned　to　his　guest。　〃Well；　Mr。　Zavala。　Has　this　something　to　do　with　the　telephone　call　I　received　a　few　days　ago　from　Mr。　Perlmutter？〃
　〃Indirectly。〃
　〃Hmm。　I've　made　some　inquiries。　It　seems　Mr。　Perlmutter　is　highly　respected　in　marine…history　circles。　How　may　I　help　you？〃
　〃Perlmutter　was　doing　some　research　for　NUMA　when　he　came　across　a　reference　to　your　grandfather。　He　was　puzzled　about　why　you　were　reluctant　to　talk　about　Lord　Dodson's　papers。　And　so　am　I。〃
　〃I'm　afraid　I　was　abrupt　with　Mr。　Perlmutter。　Please　offer　him　my　apology　if　you　see　him。　His　query　caught　me　off…guard。〃　He　paused　and　let　his　eyes　sweep　over　the　roof　of　his　cottage。　〃Do　you　have　any　idea　how　old　this　house　is？〃
　
　Zavala　studied　the　weathered　stones　and　massive　chimneys。　〃I'll　take　a　stab　at　it；〃　he　said　with　a　smile。　〃Old？〃
　〃I　see　you're　a　man　of　caution。　I　like　that。　Yes；　it　is　very　old。　This　village　dates　back　to　the　Iron　Age。　The　original　Dodson　manor；　beyond　those　trees　where　you　can't　see　goes　back　to　the　seventeenth　century。　I　have　no　children　to　pass　the　property　along　to　and　couldn't　afford　to　maintain　the　old　ark　in　any　case；　so　I　turned　it　over　to　the　National　Trust　and　retained　this　cottage。　It　rests　on　a　foundation　placed　here　at　the　time　of　Augustus　Caesar；　I　could　show　you　the　Roman　numerals　carved　in　the　cellar　stones。　The　house　itself　is　one　of　four　that　have　occupied　the　site　for　over　two　thousand　years。　The　present　structure　dates　back　to　the　fourteen　hundreds；　just　about　the　time　your　country　was　being　discovered。〃
　〃I'm　not　sure　I　understand　what　this　has　to　do　with　my　question。〃
　
　Dodson　leaned　forward　like　an　Oxford　don　instructing　a　dim　student。　〃This　country　doesn't　think　in　terms　of　decades　or　even　centuries；　as　in　America；　but　in　millennia。　Eighty　years　is　a　mere　tick　of　the　clock。　There　are　powerful　families　who　could　still　be　embarrassed　by　the　revelations　in　my　grandfather's　papers。〃
　
　Zavala　nodded。　〃I　respect　your　wishes　and　won't　press　you；　but　is　there　anything　that　you　can　tell　me？〃
　
　Dodson's　eyes　twinkled　with　merriment。　〃I'm　prepared　I　to　tell　you　everything　you　want　to　know；　young　man。〃
　〃Pardon？〃　Zavala　had　hoped　to　excavate　a　few　nuggets　and　hadn't　expected　Dodson　to　offer　him　the　whole　gold　mine。
　
　After　Mr。　Perlmutter　called；　I　gave　this　matter　a　great　deal　of　thought。　In　my　grandfather's　will；　he　left　his　papers　to　Guildhall；　to　be　made　available　to　the　public　at　the　end　of　the　century。　Even　I　had　never　seen　them。　They　were　in　my　father's　possession　and　became　my　responsibility　after　his　death。　They　were　being　held　by　the　law　firm　that　handled　my　grandfather's　will；　and　I　didn't　get　around　to　actually　reading　them　until　they　were　at　the　library。　I　pulled　them　back　after　I　came　across　my　grandfather's　narrative　explaining　his　part　in　all　this。　Now；　however；　I've　decided　to　honor　his　wishes；　despite　the　consequences。　Damn　the　torpedoes。　Full　speed　ahead。〃
　
　〃Admiral　Farragut　at　the　battle　of　Mobile　Bay。〃
　〃You're　something　of　a　naval　historian　yourself。〃
　〃It's　hard　not　to　be　in　my　business。〃
　〃Which　brings　up　a　question　of　my　own。　Exactly　what　is　NUMA's　interest　in　this　matter？〃
　〃One　of　our　survey　ships　found　the　wreck　of　an　old　freighter　named　the　Odessa　Star　in　the　Black　Sea。〃
　
　Dodson　sat　back　in　his　chair　and　shook　his　head。　〃The　Odessa　Star。　So　that's　what　happened　to　her。　Father　thought　she　was　caught　in　one　of　the　dreadful　storms　that　can　plague　those　bloody　waters。〃
　〃Not　exactly。　She　was　sunk　by　gunfire。〃　Dodson　couldn't　have　looked　more　startled　if　Zavala　had　thrown　the　glass　of　iced　tea　in　his　face。　He　posed　himself。　〃Excuse　me。　I'll　give　you　some　material　to　read。〃　He　disappeared　into　the　house　and　came　back　with　what　looked　like　a　thick　manuscript。　〃I'm　going　into　the　village　to　pick　up　some　heirloom　plantings　for　my　garden。　You　should　have　plenty　of　time　to　absorb　this。　We　can　talk　about　it　on　my　return。　Jenna　will　keep　you　well　supplied　with　tea　or　something　stronger　if　you　wish。　Just　ring　this　little　bell。〃
　
　Zavala　watched　Dodson's　battered　truck　jounce　down　the　driveway。　He　was　surprised　Dodson　had　entrusted　the　manuscript　to　a　plete　stranger。　On　second　thought；　Jenna　looked　capable　of　restraining　him　if　he　made　one　step　toward　his　rental　car　with　packet　in　hand。　He　untied　the　thick　black　ribbon　that　bound　the　pages　of　lined　pale　yellow　paper　and　riffled　through　the　manuscript。　The　letters　were　gracefully　executed　by　someone　who　had　studied　penmanship；　but　the　strokes　were　thick　and　wild；　slanting　forward；　as　if　the　writer　was　in　a　great　hurry。　Attached　was　evidently　an　English　translation　of　the　transcript。
　
　The　first　page　contained　a　short　paragraph：　〃This　is　the　journal　of　Major　Peter　Yakelev；　captain　in　the　tsar's　Royal　Cossacks　Guard。　I　swear　to　God　on　my　oath　as　an　officer　that　all　I'm　about　to　tell　you　is　true。　〃　Zavala　turned　a　page。　〃Odessa；　1918。　As　I　sit　in　my　humble　room　writing　with　fingers　crippled　by　frostbite；　I　think　of　all　I　have　endured　in　the　past　weeks。　Bolshevik　treachery；　unspeakable　cold　and　starvation　have　killed　most　of　my　sontia；　the　band　of　loyal　Cossacks　originally　one　hundred　strong；　only　a　handful　of　brave　men　remain。　But　the　history　of　this　valiant　band　will　be　written　in　blood；　as　saviors　of　Mother　Russia；　guardians　of　the　flame　of　Peter　the　Great。　Our　own　privations　are　nothing　pared　to　those　suffered　by　the　gracious　lady　and　her　four　daughters　who；　by　the　grace　of　God；　have　e　into　our　care。　God　save　the　tsar！　Within　hours　we　leave　our　country　forever　and　will　set　sail　across　the　sea　to　Constantinople。　This　is　the　end　of　one　story　and　the　beginning　of　anothr：　。　。　。　〃
　
　Zavala　became　totally　engrossed　in　the　pages。　The　captain　tended　toward　rhetorical　flourishes；　but　he　told　a　pelling　story　that　took　Zavala　away　from　the　sunlight　playing　on　the　English　countryside　to　the　bleak　Russian　winter。　Blizzards　howled　across　the　steppes；　death　lurked　in　the　dark　forest；　and　treachery　lay　in　wait　in　the　humblest　shack。　He　almost　shivered　with　cold　as　he　read　of　the　hardships　the　captain　and　his　men　endured　as　they　traveled　through　a　dangerous　and　unforgiving　land　toward　the　sea。　A　shadow　fell　across　the　pages。　Zavala　looked　up　and　saw　Dodson　standing　there；　a　bemused　smile　on　his　face。
　
　〃Fascinating；　isn't　it？〃
　
　Zavala　rubbed　his　eyes；　then　checked　his　watch。　Two　hours　had　passed。　〃It's　incredible。　What　does　it　all　mean？〃
　
　The　Englishman　picked　up　the　bell　and　rang　it。　〃Teatime。〃
　
　The　housekeeper　brought　out　a　steaming　teapot　and　a　tray　of　cucumber　sandwiches　and　scones。　Dodson　poured　their　cups　full；　then　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　tented　his　fingers。
　
　〃My　grandfather　was　undersecretary　in　King　George's　Foreign　Office　in　1917。　He　and　the　king　had　been　drinking　and　womanizing　panions　in　their　youth。　He　was　well　acquainted　with　all　the　royal　heads　of　Europe；　including　Tsar　Nicholas；　who　was　George's　cousin。　Nicholas　was　a　short；　slight　man；　although　hi