cp.reddice-第7章

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ide　the　pound。　Yet　intuitively　I　sense　Andy's　value。　There　is　something　fascinating　in　his　gray　eyes；　even　though　he　is　a　degenerate　gambler。　This　quality　does　not　bother　me；　however；　because　I　might　be　able　to　use　his　obvious　casino　debt　against　him。　Of　course；　I　plan　to　use　Andy　to　get　into　the　pound　to　rescue　Joel。
　　Quickly。　I　feel　the　pressure　of　each　passing　hour。
　　Joel　will　be　thirsty　already；　unless　they　happen　to　feed　him。
　　A　newborn's　thirst　is　agonizing。
　　The　papers　are　shouting　about　the　barbaric　terrorist　attack　in　Los　Angeles。　Authorities　estimate　that　there　were　at　least　three　dozen　Islamic　fanatics　involved；　and　that　the　local　police　were　overwhelmed　by　superior　forces　and　military　equipment　The　mayor　has　vowed　that　the　city　officials　will　not　rest　until　the　murderers　are　brought　to　justice。
　　When　in　doubt；　blame　it　on　the　Arabs。
　　The　hot　sun　is　draining　for　me　after　such　an　intense　night。　Yet　I　bear　it　better　than　I　would　have　before　drinking　Yaksha's　blood。　I　suspect；　after　five　thousand　years；　the　sun　had　no　effect　on　Yaksha。　I　sure　could　use　his　power　now。　I　pray　he　is　finally　at　peace；　in　Krishna's　blue　abode。　How　often　I　pray　to　Krishna。　How　curious；　since　I　am　supposed　to　hate　him。　Oh　well；　the　heart　of　a　vampire　is　unfathomable。　No　wonder　superstitious　people　are　always　trying　to　drive　stakes　through　our　hearts。
　　It　is　five　in　the　evening　before　Andrew　Kane　emerges　from　his　house　and　climbs　in　his　car。　He　has　no　time　for　the　casinos　now。　No　doubt　the　general　waits　for　him。　Andy　drives　the　five　miles　on　Highway　IS；　then　turns　onto　the　government　road；　once　again　pushing　his　speed　up　to　near　a　hundred。　My　Jeep　has　a　powerful　engine…I　cruise　five　fortable　miles　behind　him。　Actually；　it　is　probably　something　of　a　waste　to　follow　him　all　the　way　into　work。　He'll　just　drive　inside　and　disappear　into　one　of　the　buildings。　But　I　want　to　see　how　long　it　takes　him　to　pass　through　security；　how　many　checks　he　goes　through。　Close　to　the　pound；　I　veer　off　the　road　and　tear　across　the　desert；　parking　near　the　hill　I　hid　behind　before。　On　the　seat　beside　me　are　high…powered　binoculars。　Even　my　supernatural　sight　can　be　improved　by　mechanical　aids。
　　I　am　not　given　a　chance　to　reach　my　vantage　point　before　Andy　gets　to　the　front　gate　of　the　pound。　Still；　I　can　see　well　enough。　He　is　stopped；　naturally；　but　the　guards　know　him　well。　He　hardly　has　to…flash　his　badge。　The　guards　do　not　search　his　trunk。　He　parks　his　car　in　the　same　spot　and　enters　the　building　where　Joel　was　taken；　the　largest；　most　modern　building　in　the　whole　plex。　Chemical　smells　drift　out　from　the　building。　It　definitely　has　a　lab　inside。
　　I　would　like　to　examine　the　pound　further　but　night　is　the　time　to　do　it。　Plus　I　am　anxious　to　get　into　Andy's　house。　I　tear　back　to　Las　Vegas；　not　passing　anyone　on　the　road。　I　wonder　if　the　scuba　divers　are　still　searching　the　bottom　of　Lake　Mead　for　my　body。　I　wonder　if　the　general　suspects　I　will　try　to　rescue　Joel。　I　doubt　it。
　　Andy's　house　is　a　three…bedroom　affair　at　the　end　of　a　quiet　cul…de…sac。　This　being　Las　Vegas；　there　is　the　obligatory　pool　in　the　backyard。　Leaving　my　Jeep　on　the　adjoining　street；　I　climb　his　wall　and　pick　his　back　door　lock。　Inside　it　is　cool；　he　left　the　air　conditioning　on。　I　shut　the　door　and　stand　listening　for　a　moment；　smelling。　Many　aromas　e　to　me　then。　They　tell　me　much　about　the　man；　even　though　we　have　never　been　formally　introduced。
　　He　is　a　vegetarian。　There　is　no　smell　of　animal　flesh。　He　doesn't　smoke；　but　he　does　drink。　I　see　as　well　as　smell　the　bottles　of　liquor　in　a　walnut　cabinet。　He　does　not　use　cologne；　but　there　is　a　faint　odor　of　various　makeup　products。　Our　Mr。　Andrew　Kane　resents　middle　age。
　　He　is　a　bachelor；　there　are　no　pictures　of　a　wife　or　kids　on　the　walls。　I　step　into　the　kitchen。　He　eats　out　mostly；　there　is　little　food　in　the　refrigerator。　I　riffle　through　his　bills　on　the　kitchen　counter。　There　are　a　couple　of　envelopes　from　banks。　He　is　up　to　his　limit　on　three　credit　cards。
　　I　walk　into　the　bedroom　he　uses　as　an　office。
　　I　almost　faint。
　　On　his　desk　is　a　black　and　white　and　red　plastic　model　of　the　double　helix　DNA　molecule。　That　is　not　what　staggers　me。　Beside　it　is　a　much　more　plex　model　of　a　different　kind　of　DNA…one　that　has　twelve　strands　of　encoded　information　instead　of　two。　It　is　not　the　first　time　I　have　seen　it。　Seven　hundred　years　ago；　the　great　Italian　alchemist；　Arturo　Evola；　created　a　similar　model　after　spending　six　months　in　my　pany。
　　〃It's　not　possible；〃　I　whisper。
　　Andrew　Kane　has　already　begun　to　crack　the　DNA　of　the　vampire。
　　　
　　　4
　　Italy；　during　the　thirteenth　century；　embodied　all　that　was　wonderful　and　horrible　about　the　Middle　Ages。　The　Catholic　Church　was　the　supreme　power。　Monarchs　came　and　went。　Kings　and　queens　fought　and　died。　But　the　Roman　Pope　wielded　the　true　power　over　life　and　death。
　　Art　was　the　gift　of　the　Church　to　the　people　in　those　days。　This　was　above　and　beyond　the　gift　of　their　strict　theology；　which　did　nothing　for　the　poor　masses　except　keep　them　confused　until　the　day　they　died。　I　say　that　with　well…deserved　bitterness。　It　would　have　been　impossible　to　live　in　those　days　and　not　bee　angry　at　the　Church。　Today；　however；　I　think　the　Church　does　much　that　is　good；　and　much　that　is　questionable。　No　religion　is　perfect；　not　after　man　gets　through　with　it。
　　I　lived　in　Florence　from　1212　till　1245　and　spent　many　months　touring　the　churches　where　the　finest　paintings　and　sculptures　were　displayed。　The　Renaissance　was；　of　course；　a　long　way　off；　and　Michelangelo　and　Da　Vinci　had　yet　to　be　born。　Still；　these　earlier　days　were　remarkable　for　their　creativity。　I　remember　well　Bonaventura　Berlinghieri's　radiant　St。　Franca　and　Niccola　Pisano's　hypnotic　sculpture　Annunciation　to　the　Shepherds。
　　The　Inquisition　was　another　gift　of　the　Church。　The　boon　of　the　devil　in　the　minds　of　most　people　in　those　days。　Two　informants；　whose　identities　could　remain　unknown　to　the　victim；　were　all　that　was　necessary　to　charge　someone　with　being　a　heretic。　The　informants　could　be　heretics　themselves；　or　witches…not　pleasant　titles　to　earn　in　old　Italy。　A　confession　was　necessary　to　convict　anyone　of　being　a　heretic。　A　little　stretching　of　the　limbs；　or　burning　with　live　coals；　or　torturing　the　victim　on　the　strappado…the　dreaded　vertical　rack…was　usually　enough　to　get　an　innocent　person　to　confess。　I　remember　going　to　the　central　city　courtyard　to　watch　the　victims　being　burned　alive　at　the　stake。　I　used　to　think　back　over　the　barbarism　of　the　Emperors　of　the　Roman　Empire；　the　Mongolian　hordes；　the　Japanese　shoguns…and　yet　their　forms　of　torture　all　paled　pared　to　the　pain　caused　by　the　Church　because　the　people　who　lit　the　pyres　wore　crosses。　They　chanted　prayers　while　their　victims　screamed　and　died。
　　I　observed　only　a　few　executions　before　I　lost　the　stomach　for　them。　Yet　I　thwarted　the　Inquisition　in　my　own　way；　by　secretly　killing　many　of　the　inquisitors。　I　usually　left　their　bodies　in　promised　places　houses　of　prostitution　and　the　like…to　discourage　thorough　investigations。　As　I　drained　the　inquisitors'　blood；　sucking　their　large　neck　veins　and　arteries；　I　whispered　in　their　ears　that　I　was　an　angel　of　mercy。　None　of　them　died　easily。
　　Yet　the　Church　was　bigger　than　a　single　vampire；　the　Inquisition　an　infection　that　spread　and　multiplied　through　its　own　mysterious　madness。　It　could　not　be　easily　stopped。　It　cast　a　gloom　over　my　stay　in　Florence；　over　my　joy　in　the　resurgence　of　mankind's　creativity。　I　have　hunted　humans　throughout　time；　and　yet　I　am　proud　of　them　as　well；　when　they　do　something　bold；　something　unexpected。　The　best　art　always　es　unbidden。
　　Arturo　Evola　was　not　known　as　an　alchemist　or　else　he　would　not　have　lasted　a　day　in　medieval　Florence。　He　was　a　twenty…one…year…old　Franciscan　priest；　and　a　devout　one　at　that。　He　had　entered　the　priesthood　at　the　age　of　sixteen；　which　was　not　unusual　at　that　time；　because　the　easiest　way　to　obtain　the　finest　education　was　to　bee　a　priest。　He　was　a　brilliant　man；　undoubtedly　the　most　inspired　intellect　of　the　thirteenth　century。　Yet　history　does　not　know　him。　Only　I　do；　and　my　memories　of　him　are　filled　with　sorrow。
　　I　met　him　after　Mass　one　day。　I　despised　the　Church；　but　enjoyed　the　actual　service。　All　the　chanting；　the　choirs；　and　I　loved　to　hear　the　early　organs　played。　Often　I　would　go　to　munion；　after　attending　confession。　It　was　difficult　for　me　to　keep　a　straight　face　while　I　told　of　my　sins。　Once；　for　fun；　I　told　a　priest　the　whole　truth　of　what　I　had　done　in　my　life。　But　he　was　drunk　and　just　said　to　do　five　Hail　Marys　and　to　behave　myself。　I　didn't　have　to　kill　him。
　　I　received　the　Holy　Eucharist　from　Arturo　and　met　him　after　the　service。　I　could　tell　he　was　attracted　to　me。　In　those　days　many　priests　had　mistresses。　I　had　gone　out　of　my　way　to　see　Arturo　because　a　gypsy　healer　had　told　me　about　him。　He　was　an　alchemist；　she　said；　who　could　turn　stone　into　gold；　sunlight　into　ideas；　moonlight　into　lust。　The　gypsy　had　a　high　opinion　of　Arturo。　She　warned　me　to　approach　him　cautiously　because　his　real　work　had　to　be　kept　from　the　Church。　I　understood。
　　monly；　an　alchemist　is　known　as　an　esoteric　chemist　who　attempts　to　convert　base　metals　into　gold。　This　is　a　crude　understanding。　Alchemy　is　a　prehensive　physical　and　metaphysical　system　embracing　cosmology　as　much　as　anthropology。　Everything　natural　and　supernatural　can　be　found　in　it　The　goal　of　alchemy　is　to　experience　the　totality　of　the　organism。　It　is　a　path　of　enlightenment。　The　gypsy　said　Arturo　was　a　born　alchemist。　Knowledge　came　to　him　from　inside。　No　one　had　to　teach　him　his　art。　〃The　only　trouble　with　him　is　he's　a　Catholic；〃　she　said。　〃A　fanatic。〃
　　〃How　does　he　merge　the　two　disciplines？〃　I　asked。
　　The　gypsy　blessed　herself。　She　was　superstitious　of　the　Church　as　well。　〃God　only　knows；〃　she　said。
　　Arturo　did　not　strike　me　as　a　fanatic　when　we　first　met。　His　demeanor　was　soft；　like　his　lovely　eyes。　He　had　a　special　ability　to　listen　totally　to　a　person；　a　rare　gift。　His　large　hands　were　exceptionally　fine；　when　he　brushed　my　arm　with　his　fingers　I　felt　he　was　capable　of　touching　my　heart。　And　he　was　so　young！　That　first　afternoon　we　talked　about　astronomy…a　midway　subject；　in　my　mind；　to　alchemy。　He　was　delighted　with　my　knowledge　of　the　heavens。　He　invited　me　to　share　a　meal　and　afterward　we　went　for　a　walk　around　the　city。　When　we　said　goodbye　that　night；　I　knew　he　was　in　love　with　me。
　　Why　did　I　pursue　him？　For　the　same　reason　I　have　done　many　things　in　my　life…I　was　curious。　But　that　was　only　my　initial　reason。　Soon　I；　too；　was　in　love　with　him。　I　must　say；　the　feeling　was　present　before　I　began　to　probe　his　knowledge　of　alchemy。　Before　going　that　deep　into　his　secret　world；　I　knew　he　was　unlike　other　priests　of　his　day。　He　was　a　virgin；　and　his　vow　of　celibacy　was　important　to　him。
　　I　did　not　just　spring　the　questions　on　him　one　day。　Can　you　turn　copper　into　gold？　Can　you　heal　lepers？　Can　you　live　forever？　I　showed　him　a　glimpse　of　my　knowledge　first；　to　inspire　him　to　share　his。　My　understanding　of　the　medical　properties　of　herbs　is　extensive。　An　old　friar　in　Arturo's　church　became　ill　with　a