ericlustbader.the ninja-第58章

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　'Yeah；　I　remember　the　files。　Vincent　did　the　autopsies　himself。　But　how？　There's　certainly　no　similarity　in　M。O。'　Croaker　rubbed　at　his　eyes。　'Right　now；　all　I　can　say　is　that　M。O。　doesn't　seem　very　relevant。'
　'I　see。　I　phoned　Doc　Deerfordi　out　on　the　Island。　I　wanted　it　to　e　from　me。'
　'How'd　he　take　it？'
　'Not　well。　Look；　Lew；　we'd　…　I'd　appreciate　anything　you　can　do　…　you　know　。。。'　His　voice　trailed　off。
　'I　know　you　two　were　close。　Believe　me；　the　minute　I　have　something；　I'll　be　in　touch。〃　He　looked　up。　Vegas　was　in　the　open　doorway；　grinning　like　a　Cheshire　cat。　He　put　one　finger　in　the　air；　put　his　hand　over　the　speaker；　said；　'Hold　on；　I'll　be　off　in　a　minute。'
　'。。。　the　funeral　arrangements；'　Graumann　was　saying。
　'Do　that；'　Croaker　said；　'I　want　to　be　there。'　He　looked　down　at　the　report。　'About　this　chemical　substance　you　found　…　are　you　certain　…'
　'Like　I　said；　I　did　the　autopsy　myself。　There's　no　doubt　about　the　finding。'
　'Good。　That　narrows　things　down　considerably。'
　'There's　absolutely　no　way　the　substance　could　have　been
　introduced　accidentally。　It　happened　shortly　before　his　death。'　'So　I　see；〃　Croaker　said；　reading　the　typescript。　'A　modified　nerve　toxin；　slowed　down　his　muscular　responses　enough　so　that…'
　'I'd　say　he　was　pretty　near　helpless　by　the　time　…　by　the　time　it　happened。'
　'It　wasn't　injected。'
　'No。　It　would　have　no　effect　that　way。　This　is　an　organic　pound　we're　talking　about；　npt　a　laboratory　synthetic。　It　must　have　been　sprayed　and　from　close　range。　He　might　have　known　his　murderer。'
　'Or　just　not　suspected。　Anyone　…　even　someone　ing　quickly　out　of　a　crowd　…　could　have　sprayed　him。　Listen；　I'll　get　back　to　you。'
　'Yeah。　I　just　hope　it　won't　be　long。'
　Croaker　cradled　the　receiver　thoughtfully。　Still　no　word　from　his　contact。　What　was　taking　so　fucking　long？　'e　on　in；'　he　said　to　Vegas。　He　shifted　the　MintyPick　from　one　side　of　his　mouth　to　another。　'Where　you　been　all　duded　up？'　Vegas　was　wearing　a　plum…coloured　suit　with　wide　lapels　and　modified　flare　trousers。　Underneath；　he　wore　a　pink　shirt　with　a　high　collar。
　'Been　out　pickin'　up　the　shit；'　Vegas　said；　the　wide　smile　still　stitched　to　his　mouth。　'Yeah；　real　bad　shit　this　time；　my　man。　Took　us　three　months　settin'　it　up。'
　Croaker　grunted。　'Business　as　usual。'　His　mind　was　on　the　M。E。's　report。
　'No　way；　man。　No　way　a…tall。'　Vegas　lounged　his　huge　frame　against　the　open　doorway；　disdaining　the　chair　inside　the　office。　'This　time　I　got　me　a　fox　among　all　this　shit　I　just　hauled　in。'
　Croaker　clucked　his　tongue。　'Don't　tell　me　you're　planning　to　mix　business　with　pleasure。'
　Vegas　shook　his　head　and　his　grin　seemed　to　expand。　'Uh…uh；　not　this　fox。　This　fox　is　special。'
　'Yeah？　They're　all　the　fucking　same；　man；　those　cunts　you　e　across。'
　Vegas　was　waiting　for　this。　He　poked　his　forefinger　towards　Croaker　and　said；　delightedly；　'Not　this　one。　This　one's　your　fox；　man。　I　just　been　her　guardian　angel　till　I　got　her　here。'
　Croaker　looked　up；　puzzled。　'What　the　hell　are　you　talking　about？'
　Vegas　laughed　good…naturedly。　'What　I　gots　downstairs　in　the　wagon　is　one　piece　of　high…priced　property；　man。　C'mon；　follow　me。'　Croaker　swung　his　jacket　off　the　chair…back；　followed　Vegas　down　the　hall。
　'This　better　be　worth　it；'　he　said　shortly。　'I　ain't　got　time　for　any　of　your　jive。'
　'Oh；　no　jive；　man。　No　jive。'　Vegas　laughed　again；　stabbed　the　elevator　button。　'What　I　got　on　ice　down　in　the　alley　is　goin'　make　your　day。　Trust　me。'　He　gave　a　hearty　laugh　and　slapped　Croaker　on　the　back　as　the　elevator　doors　opened　and　they　rode　down。　They　shared　the　car　with　a　uniform　bringing　a　scruffy…looking　Puerto　Rican　collar　down　for　prints　and　pics　and　nothing　more　was　said　until　they　went　out　through　the　side　entrance。
　They　came　abreast　of　the　police　van　in　the　cool　dimness　of　the　concrete　alley。　In　this　tightly　enclosed　space；　Vegas's　body…size　was　magnified；　he　was　as　big　as　Paul　Bunyan　amid　the　White　Mountains。
　He　put　an　enormous　hand　on　Croaker's　shoulder　and　Croaker　was　automatically　reminded　of　one　of　the　cases　on　which　they　had　been　teamed。　The　Atherton　thing。　Christ；　he　thought；　but　that　was　a　bitch　！　Thought　sure　we　were　gonna　float　away　on　a　sea　of　blood　and　never　see　this　goddamned　world　again。　Jesus　I　He　could　see　it　as　clearly　as　if　it　had　just　happened：　he　down　with　his　shoulder　shattered　by　a　。45　slug　and　Vegas　rising　from　the　shadows　of　the　burned…out　car　like　an　avenging　angel。　Croaker　had　fired　on　his　assailant；　spinning　him　around；　his　second　and　third　shots　a　useless　reflex　aimed　at　the　stars。　But　there　was　this　mountain　of　a　black　man　with　the　tyre　chain　and　the　snub…nosed　pistol　the　bastard　had　modified　so　that　it　could　blast　a　hole　in　a　brick　wall　at　ten　feet；　and　Vegas　took　him　on　with　just　his　bare　hands　and　I　never　saw　anyone　go　down　so　hard　or　so　fast　〃from　one　blow　as　that　motherfucking　hood。　There　were　three　other　corpses　that　night；　Jesus；　what　fucking　mess！　Croaker　felt　the　pressure　of　the　other's　grip。
　'Don't　you　worry　none；'　the　big　man　said　softly。　'We　look　out　for　each　other；　don't　we？　I　don't　give　a　rat's　ass　for　anyone　around　here；　you　know　that？　They're　all　a　bunch　of　goddamned
　hypocrites。　I　got　my　job　to　do；　I　do　it。　The　rest　of　them；　well；　they　all　got　an　axe　to　grind；　one　way　or　another。　There's　always　an　angle　to　play　out　here；　ain't　that　right。　War's　a　perfect　place　for　angles；　you　know　that。　The　smart　make　out　in　wars。　They　ain't　got　no　conscience；　they　ain't　got　no　emotion。　All　they　got　to　worry　about　is　keeping　their　tails　on　straight；　after　that；　they　got　all　the　time　in　the　world　to　look　for　the　gravy　rollin'　in　under　the　dirt　and　the　scum　and　the　…'　Vegas　stopped　abruptly；　aware　that　his　grip　had　tightened　painfully　on　his　friend's　flesh。　He　shook　his　head　like　a　wounded　animal。　'Sorry；　Soldier；　it's　been　a　heavy　day。'　He　smiled　ruefully。　'Real　heavy　duty。'
　'It's　okay；　Spook。'　They　had　given　each　other　nicknames　long　ago　when　they　had　first　met；　it　gave　them　both　a　forting　feeling　of　privacy　amid　the　openness　of　their　days　and　nights　on　the　force。　At　times；　Croaker　thought　that　this　was　the　falsest　feeling　in　the　world；　on　those　days　when　he　felt　pletely　invaded　by　his　job。　'We're　two　fucking　heroes　who　think　that　shovellin'　shit　is　heroic。'　He　laughed。　'But　cheer　up。　What　the　hell；　it　could　be　worse。　We　could　be　the　ones　ma1（in'　the　shit。'
　Vegas　threw　back　his　head　and　laughed；　the　rich　sound　rolling　off　the　high　walls。　'Now；　look；　here's　the　dope；'　he　said。　'We　been　working；　like　I　said；　on　this　Scarsdale　bust　for　three　months；　no　less。　We　get　a　tip　to　move。　We　move。　Lots　of　stuff　there　…　enough　pills　to　keep　the　goddamned　Chinese　Army　awake　for　a　year；　a　whole　lotta　horse；　carload　o'　coke　an'　about　a　half　a　ton　of　reefer　madness。　Okay；　not　so　bad。　That's　going　on　in　the　back　of　the　place。　In　the　front　they　got　a　party　going　on　and　everyone　gets　busted；　you　know？　That's　when　I　saw　her。　Thought　I'd　bring　her　in　myself；　just　in　case。　I　think　she's　clean　but'　…　he　shrugged　…　'you　know　how　that　is　sometimes。　Anyway；　she's　yours　if　you　want　her　…　I　can　straighten　them　out　upstairs。'
　'How　can　I　know　if　I　want　her；'　Croaker　said；　'if　I　don't
　know　who　she　is？'
　Vegas　transferred　his　hand　from　Croaker's　shoulder　to　the　lever　of　the　back　door　to　the　van。　'Sittin'　in　the。　dark　right　in　here；　man；　is　Raphael's　elder　daughter；　Gelda　Tomkin。'
　Croaker　felt　a　jolt　race　through　him　just　as　if　he　had　been　doused　with　ice　water。
　Vegas　leaned　on　the　lever；　grinning；　the　reinforced…steel　door　swung　outward　and　Croaker　stepped　in。　The　door　slammed　shut　behind　him。
　He　stood　for　a　moment　in　the　dimness　unmoving；　letting　his　eyes　adjust　to　the　low　light　seeping　in　through　the　windshield；　washed　to　a　pale　grey　by　the　mesh　screen　dividing　the　blessed　from　the　damned。
　She　sat　on　one　of　the　plain　metal　benches　riveted　along　either　side　of　the　van。　Her　head　was　tilted　back；　resting　against　the　wall。　This　put　her　profile　into　prominence　so　that　he　could　see　the　arch　of　her　long　forehead；　the　straight　patrician　nose；　the　flair　of　the　highly　sensual　lips；　the　long　cool　sweep　of　her　curving　throat。　He　knew　without　having　to　see　them　now　the　dark　sparks　of　her　eyes；　the　rather　heavy　torso　with　its　thrusting　breasts　and　ample　hips。　Knew；　too；　the　long　sweep　of　the　perfect　legs　from　thigh　to　calf　to　slim　exquisite　ankle　palely　outlined　as　they　stretched　out　before　her；　those　magnificent　legs　which；　quite　inexplicably；　made　her　heaviness　an　overwhelm…iogasset。
　'Well　。。。'　He　felt　a　great　weight　about　his　body　and　an　inarticulateness　that　obliged　him　to　clear　his　throat　and　begin　again。　'Well；　Gelda；　what　have　you　been　up　to　now？'
　The　sharply　delineated　profile　dissolved　into　sweeping　shadow　as　she　turned　her　head　to　look　in　his　direction。
　'Who　the　hell　are　you？'　Even　in　anger　there　was　a　rich　lustre；　a　〃silkine^s　to　her　voice　that　made　it　seem　as　if　he　had　spoken　to　her　yesterday　instead　of　several　months　ago。　Even　alarm　could　not　diminish　its　effectiveness。
　'Croaker；'　he　said；　moving　towards　her。　'Lieutenant。　Remember　me？'
　'Should　I？'　The　tone　had　turned　aqueous；　soft　and　languid。　The　air　between　them　seemed　to　tremble。
　'Maybe。　I　met　you　once　before。'　He　stood　over　her　now；　not　seeing　anything　in　the　twilight　except　the　pale　sheen　from　the　whites　of　her　large　eyes。　But　he　felt　her　presence　acutely　and　it　gave　him　pleasure　to　stand　thus。　'I　interviewed　you　at　the　beginning　of　the　summer　regarding　the　Angela　Didion　murder；　we　talked　about　your　father。'
　'That　shit！'　Even　though　she　spat　it　out；　there　remained　an
　elegance　to　it。　He　heard　her　take　a　breath。　'Yeah。　I　remember
　you。　Big　dude　with　a　face　like　Robert　Mitchum's。'　His　laugh　was　a　brief　bark。　'How　flattering！　Thanks。'　'Don't　get　cocky。　His　face　looks　like　it's　waged　World　War
　Three。　So　does　yours。'
　He　waited　for　a　moment；　then　said；　'Mind　if　I　sit　down？'　'You　mean　I've　got　a　choice？'　When　he　didn't　answer；　he
　felt　her　shrug。　'Suit　yourself。　This　isn't　my　house。'
　'That'd　be　on　Sutton　Place；　right？'　he　said；　sitting　down　next
　to　her。
　Abruptly　her　head　came　away　from　the　wall。　'What　the　hell's　going　on；　anyway？'　she　snapped。　'Am　I　going　to　be　booked？'
　'That　depends。'　'
　'On　what？'
　But　his　hand；　having　dipped　into　his　suit　jacket　pocket；　was　a　blur　and　he　was　already　moving。　His　left　hand　reached　across　the　space　between　them。　He　grasped　her　wrists　together；　pulled。　At　the　same　time；　he　flicked　on　the　pocket　flash；　searching　the　pale　flesh　on　the　inside　of　her　elbows。　He　tried　not　to　think　of　the　softness　of　the　skin　here。
　He　let　her　go；　sat　back。　'I　could　check　the　insides　of　your　thighs；　too；'　he　said　softly。　'Or　you　could　tell　me。〃　He　had　used　a　fair　amount　of　pressure　and　her　wrists　must　hurt　but　she　made　no　move　to　rub　them；　he　liked　that。　She　had　a　great　deal　of　pride。
　'I　shoot　up　through　the　eyeballs；'　she　said　acidly。　'You've　heard　of　that；　I'm　sure。　Leaves　no　tracks。'　Her　head　turned　then　and　her　cheek　lit　up　as　a　grillwork　of　grey　and　black　fell　obliquely　'across　her　face。　She　looked　like　a　heroine　out　of　a　fifties'　film　noir。　Some　of　the　air　seemed　to　go　out　of　her　all　at　once。　'I　don't　do　anything　any　of　you　guys　don't　do。　Probably　a　good　deal　less。