ericlustbader.the ninja-第77章

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　'He　will　destroy　the　place！'　Ah　Ma　cried。　She　thought　of　the　munists　ing　in　the　dead　of　night；　destroying　the　house　before　dragging　out　her　husband。　But　this　was　America。
　Nicholas　perceived　her　agitation。　'The　Japanese　is　a　very　dangerous　man；　Ah　Ma。　He　could　hurt　your　girls。'
　This　she　understood　immediately　and　she　fell　silent；　looking　at　him。
　'Where　is　he？'
　〃There。　There。　Take　him　then。'
　He　broke　away　from　her；　calling；　'The　left　one。　The　left　I'
　Croaker　swivelled；　put　a　shot　through　the　lock　on　the　left…hand　door。　He　went　in　with　his　shoulder　and　that　was　when　the　screaming　began。
　A　blur　of　movement　and　Nicholas　instinctively　threw　his　arm　across　his　eyes。
　Flash　of　light；　blue…white。　The　stink　of　cordite。
　Croaker　reeled　and；　running；　Nicholas　saw　the　last　of　a　leg　and　shoe　disappear　through　the　open　window。　…
　'Christ　Jesus！'
　He　turned。　Croaker　had　one　hand　over　his　eyes。
　'What　happened？'　His　voice　seemed　hoarse。
　'Flash　bomb；'　Nicholas　said。　'A　miniature。'
　Noise　from　the　corridor；　quickening。
　'He's　gone；　Croaker。　Out　of　the　rear　window。〃
　Patrolman　Tony　DeLong　received　his　final　instructions　from　Lieutenant　Croaker　via　the　two…way　radio　and　drove　the　blue…and…white　slowly　along　the　length　of　Pell　Street。
　'There　it　is；'　said　Sandy　Binghamton；　his　partner。　'Pull　over。'　DeLong　doused　the　lights；　parked　the　car　on　a　diagonal；　blocking　the　street。　It　served　a　dual　purpose。　It　would　help　keep　the　suspect　within　their　perimeter　if　he　came　out　at　the　back　of　the　building　and　it　would　discourage　civilians　from　poking　their　noses　into　a　potential　red　sector。
　Binghamton　was　out　first；　swinging　his　big　black　bulk　around　the　right　side　of　the　slewed　patrol　car。　He　paused；　one　hand　on　the　chrome；　and　turned　his　head　back　towards　the　beginning　of　Pell　Street。　DeLong；　still　in　the　blue…and…white；　was　at　this　moment　in　radio　contact　with　the　second　car　but　Binghamton　wanted　a　visual　fix。　Civilian　infiltration　could　be　disastrous　at　this　point　and　curiosity　was　a　powerful　motivator。　He　took　his　cap　off；　wiped　his　forehead　on　the　sleeve　of　his　uniform。　He　turned　back；　studying　the　configuration　of　the　end　of　the　street；　the　specifics　of　the　target　building。
　DeLong　shut　down　the　radio　and　came　out　into　the　street　and　together　they　melted　into　the　deep　shadows　thrown　by　the　architecture　on　either　side。　The　Lieutenant　had　been　quite　insistent　on　this　score。　No　sound　and　no　sight。　He　watched　the　line　of　windows　three　storeys　up　and　thought　about　this。　It　was
　an　unusual　procedure　where　more　than　one　blue…and…white　was　being　used。　But　DeLong　had　no　worries。　He　had　faith　in　the　Lieutenant。　He　had　worked　with　him　for　just　under　a　year　and　a　half　and　was　now　virtually　assured；　the　next　time　the　exam　was　given；　of　making　sergeant。　He　wanted　that　very　badly。　He　had　had　enough　of　the　uniform　division　and　now　he　longed　for　a　permanent　assignment　to　a　detective　squad。　There；　too；　the　Lieutenant　could　help　him。　And　the　extra　money　would　e　in　handy　now　that　Denise　was　due。
　He　felt　Binghamton's　bulk　reassuringly　near　him。　They　were　old　partners　and　this　was　his　lone　regret　in　moving　up。　He　did　not　want　to　break　up　a　partnership　that　had　been　so　successful。　But　Sandy　had　no　desire　to　bee　a　detective。　He　was　content　to　be　on　the　street　with　the　people；　'It's　where　I　belong；　man；'　he　had　told　DeLong　often　enough。　'I　don't　want　to　be　no　desk　jockey。'　It　was　just　that　they　conceived　of　the　same　job　in　different　ways。　Lieutenant　Croaker's　life　wasn't　filled　with　paper　work　but　he　could　not　convince　Sandy　of　that。　Once　the　big　man　had　made　up　his　mind　about　something；　it　took　the　devil's　own…
　Binghamton　nudged　him　but　he　had　already　seen　it。　A　hot　flash　of　intense　light；　followed　by　a　surprisingly　soft　phutt。
　'Trouble　maybe；'　DeLong　said。　They　both　drew　their　weapons；　crouched　in　darkness；　waiting　tensely。
　Movement　at　the　windows；　flickerings　like　a　children's　shadow　play。
　'Get　ready。'　Binghamton's　voice　was　a　basso　rumble。　'I　gotta　believe　he's　on　his　way　out。'
　DeLong　nodded　and；　together；　they　began　to　edge　closer　to　the　rear　of　the　building。　They　moved　as　quietly　as　they　could；　keeping　to　the　shadows。　For　the　first　time；　DeLong　noticed　that　several　of　the　streetlights　were　out。　Odd；　since　the　New　Chinatown　Association　lost　no　time　in　bringing　such　problems　to　the　city's　attention。　But　that　was　New　York　for　you。
　They　both　saw　the　blur　of　movement　at　the　same　time。　De…Long　gave　his　partner　a　pat　and　ran　across　the　street　into　the　concealing　shadows　on　the　far　side。　The　black　man　kept　his　eyes　riveted　to　the　building　at　the　end　of　the　street。　He　knew　from　long　years　of　experience　where　DeLong　was　headed。
　They　began　to　close　in；　keeping　the　old…fashioned　iron　fire　escape　between　them。　Looking　up；　they　saw　the　moving　shadow　racing　over　the　slats　and　then　…　nothing。　No　vertical　movement　downwards。
　The　two　men　glanced　at　each　other；　then；　cautiously；　they　moved　forward　until　they　were　almost　directly　beneath　the　vertical　ladder　of　the　fire　escape。　From　this　perspective；　it　seemed　an　angular　jungle　of　stripes　and　deep　shadows。　Randomly　spaced　lit…up　windows　made　detection　that　much　more　difficult　…　insufficient　light　in　many　areas；　spurious　illumination　in　others；　creating　three　or　more　shadows　of　the　same　object。　'What　the　hell　happened　to　him？'　DeLong　asked。　'I　dunno。'　Binghamton　holstered　his　。38；　swung　the　iron　ladder　down　with　a　grate。　'But　I'm　going　up　to　find　out。　He　may　have　gone　over　the　roof。'　He　scrambled　up　onto　the　first…floor　fire　escape　landing　and　drew　his　gun。　Moving　quickly　and　quietly；　he　climbed　upwards。　He　had　difficulty　maintaining　a　clear　view　through　the　forest　of　metal　striations。
　He　paused　for　a　moment　on　the　second　floor　at　the　sound　of　a　police　siren；　rising　and　falling；　as　a　blue…and…white　sped　along　the　bowery。　Apparently　it　was　heading　uptown　because　the　sound　dopplered　abruptly　away；　sounding　odd　and　echoey　in　the　summer　night。　Nothing　to　do　with　him。　'Anything？'
　DeLong's　voice　drifted　up　to　him　along　with　the　background　wash　of　Chinatown；　the　traffic；　slowed　along　the　narrow　streets；　the　distant　chattering　of　a　foreign　language；　singsong；　rapid…fire。　Gave　a　negative　wave　of　his　free　hand　and　heard　the　buzzing　in　the　same　instant。　Some　kind　of　insect。　But　the　impacts　…one　two　three　…　pinpricks　puncturing　the　flesh　of　his　chest　and　spinning　him　around　were　from　nothing　so　innocuous。
　He　stumbled；　reached　out　with　his　left　hand；　saw　a　movement；　fired；　and　grasped　the　railing。　He　thought　only　of　getting　enough　air　into　his　lungs。　The　。38　clattered　against　the　iron　grille　work　at　his　feet。
　Turned　drunkenly　and　saw　the　dark　figure　before　him　as　if　it　had　appeared　out　of　nowhere。　Looked　spectral　in　the　wreaths　of　light　and　dark　stripes；　broken　into　oblique　shards　like　a　fun…house　mirror　as　he　lurched　from　side　to　side。　He　wanted　to　vomit。
　Impression　of　a　pale　face　dominated　by　black　almond　eyes。
　In　a　moment　the　eyes　moved　and　a　thin　line　of　white　lights　appeared　along　their　curving　edges。　Pupils　dilated；　he　saw。　Drugs；　he　thought；　irrelevantly。　His　mouth　opened　and　he　grunted　like　a　stuck　pig。　'DeLong。'　Had　it　been　loud　enough？　His　ears　rang　as　if　he　had　just　e　from　a　rock　concert。
　The　figure　came　at　him；　ballooning　dangerously。　He　reached　out；　barring　the　figure's　way　with　a　stiff　left　arm　while　he　brought　his　right　up　to　the　horizontal　so　that　the　gun　was　brought　to　bear　…　where　was　his　gun？　His　thoughts　as　slow　and　stupid　as　a　Neanderthal's。
　Felt　as　if　he　were　at　the　bottom　of　the　sea；　gravity　dragging　as　cruelly　at　him　as　if　he　weighed　five　hundred　pounds。　Almost　all　his　strength　was　now　being　used　to　maintain　his　standing　position。　His　chest　was　on　fire　…　a　cool　numbing　flame　that　seemed　to　set　him　floating　inside　himself。　His　consciousness　detached　itself　from　the　useless　husk　of　his　body。　Freed　at　last；　it　shot　upward　through　the　top　of　his　head　and　into　the　humid　squalor　of　the　night。
　Now　the　entire　blaze　of　the　city　was　spread　out　below　him；　a　pinky…blue　shell　of　light　pulsing　above　the　building　like　a　shroud。　Beyond　it；　infinite　space。
　Peering　dawn　through　the　haze；　he　could　just　make　out　in　dwindling　perspective　his　swaying　body　as　the　shadow　ran　past　it；　arm　outstretched。　He　could　even　make　out　the　pale　blob　of　DeLong's　anxious　upturned　face；　moving　nervously　in　the　shadows　of　Doyers　Street。
　When　he　looked　again　his　body　was　toppling　ever　so　slowly；　losing　its　balance。　It　seemed　as　if　he　had　to　strain　to　see　clearly　now；　so　high　was　he。　Everything　cloaked　in　an　aurora　and　he　wondered；　fleetingly；　whether　he　had　exceeded　his　limitations　and　had　gone　too　high。
　Like　Icarus；　he　thought。　And　descended　into　darkness。
　DeLong　felt　it　before　he　even　saw　it。　Like　an　elevator　unexpectedly　ing　down；　the　sheer　bulk　was　oppressive。
　He　sidestepped；　though　he　had　no　idea　what　had　been　thrown　down。　Then　it　landed；　quite　near　him；　with　a　heavy　sound　that　had　no　analogue　in　life。
　'Jesus　Christ！'　he　said　under　his　breath。　He　began　to　sweat。
　He　knelt　beside　the　crumpled　body　of　his　partner。　'Jesus；　Jesus。　Sandy；　what　happened？'
　Shock。　He　knew　he　must　look　for　whoever　it　was　that　had　done　this；　but　for　the　moment　he　was　incapable　of　looking　away。　The　shock。　And　blood　seeping　silently　in　a　rivulet　along　the　asphalt。　The　left　side　of　the　head　had　impacted　first；　then　the　shoulder　and　so　on。
　DeLong　got　up　and　backed　away　two　paces。
　Heard　a　sound；　soft　as　only　a　cat　might　make；　and　he　tore　his　eyes　away。　Doyers　Street　had　bee　a　trap　now　for　him　and　he　scuttled　back　into　the　shadows　of　a　doorway；　looking　up。　For　the　first　time　he　found　himself　wondering　what　the　Lieutenant　had　got　them　into。　Where　the　hell　was　he；　anyway？
　He　caught　the　movement　now；　this　time　soundless；　along　the　horizontal　plane　of　the　fire　escape　one　flight…up。　In　other　circumstances　he　would　have　passed　it　up　as　an　animal　prowling　the　night。　Not　now。　He　raised　his　。38；　and；　leading　the　target；　squeezed　off　a　shot。　The　report　was　very　loud　in　the　confined　space；　echoing　off　the　walls；　zigzagging　from　left　to　right。　The　spang　of　the　ricochet　told　him　he　had　hit　metal。
　'Shit！'　He　aimed；　fired　again。　This　time；　no　ricochet。　Had　it　been　a　hit　？
　There　was　a　vertical　and　the　last　horizontal　row　before　the　suspect　could　get　to　street　level　and　he　would　be　most　vulnerable；　DeLong　reasoned；　in　descent。　With　difficulty；　he　held　himself　in　check。　Binghamton's　broken　body　was　like　a　heavy　weight　close　by　him　and　he　fought　the　rising　desire　to　empty　his　pistol　at　the　moving　shape。　Wait；　he　cautioned　himself。　Wait　and　get　this　bastard　when　he's　closer　and　there's　no　doubt。
　Now　the　shadow　was　at　the　end　of　the　first…floor　fire　escape　landing　and　DeLong　sighted　carefully；　using　both　hands；　one　cupped　over　the　other　to　steady　his　aim　He　fixed　on　the　point　of　the　access　to　the　hanging　ladder。　His　forefinger　tightened　on　the　trigger。　Wait。　Tidal　breathing。　Wait。　Now。　Here　he　es。　Shots；　three　in　rapid　fire。
　Nothing　happened。
　DeLong　raised　his　gun；　puzzled。　Where　was　the　bastard？
　Then　he　picked　up　movement　on　the　street　in　the　periphery　of　his　vision。　Impossible；　he　thought。　How　the　hell　had　he　made
　the　drop　without　using　the　ladder？　And　without　a　sound？
　He　swivell