p&c.brimstone-第59章

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no　Toscanelli；　may　God　curse　him…it　disappeared。　Toscanelli　went　insane　at　the　end　of　his　days　and；　some　say；　destroyed　it。　Others　say　it　was　lost　in　the　Great　War。〃　
　〃It　wasn't。〃　
　Spezi　straightened　abruptly。　〃You　mean　it　stillexists　？〃　
　〃A　few　more　questions　if　I　may；　Dottore。　What　do　you　know　of　the　ownership　of　the　Stormcloud？〃　
　〃That　was　one　of　its　mysteries。　It　was　always　owned　by　the　same　family；　apparently；　who　it　was　said　purchased　the　instrument　directly　from　Stradivari　himself。　It　was　passed　down　from　father　to　son　only　in　name；　being　on　continuous　loan　to　a　string　of　virtuosi。　That's　normal；　of　course：　most　of　the　Strads　today　are　owned　by　wealthy　collectors　who　turn　them　over　to　virtuosi　to　play　on　long…term　loan。　Just　so　with　the　Stormcloud。　When　the　virtuoso　who　was　playing　it　died…or　if　he　had　the　misfortune　to　give　a　bad　concert…it　was　taken　away　by　the　family　that　owned　it　and　given　to　another。　There　would　have　been　intense　petition　for　it。　No　doubt　that　is　the　reason　the　family　remained　anonymous…they　didn't　want　to　be　harried　and　importuned　by　aspiring　violinists。　They　made　secrecy　of　their　identity　a　strict　condition　of　playing　the　violin。〃　
　〃No　virtuoso　ever　broke　the　silence？〃　
　〃Not　as　far　as　I　know。〃　
　〃And　Toscanelli　was　the　last　virtuoso　to　play　it。〃　
　〃Yes；　Toscanelli。　The　great　and　terrible　Toscanelli。　He　died　a　syphilitic　wreck　in　1910；　under　strange　and　mysterious　circumstances。　The　violin　was　not　beside　his　body　and　was　never　found。〃　
　〃Whoshould　the　violin　have　gone　to　after　Toscanelli？〃　
　〃A　good　question。　Perhaps　the　Russian　child　prodigy；　young　Count　Ravetsky。　Murdered　in　the　revolution；　though…a　great　loss。　What　a　terrible　century　that　was。　And　now；　Mr。　Pendergast…I　am　almost　expiring　from　curiosity。〃　
　Pendergast　reached　into　his　pocket　and　slipped　out　a　glassine　envelope；　held　it　up　to　the　light。　〃A　fragment　of　horsehair　from　the　bow　of　the　Stormcloud。〃　
　The　man　reached　out　with　trembling　fingers。　〃May　I？〃　
　〃I　promised　an　exchange。　It's　yours。〃　
　The　man　opened　it；　removed　the　horsehair　with　a　pair　of　tweezers；　placed　it　on　a　microscope　stage。　A　moment　later　the　image　appeared　on　a　puter　screen。　
　〃It's　definitely　horsehair　from　a　violin　bow…you　can　see　the　grains　of　rosin；　here；　and　the　damage　that　playing　has　done　to　the　microscopic　scales　on　the　shaft；　there。〃　He　straightened。　〃Of　course；　any　bow　with　the　Stormcloud　almost　certainly　isn't　the　original；　and　even　if　it　was；　the　horsehair　must　have　been　replaced　a　thousand　times。　This　is　hardly　proof。〃　
　〃I'm　well　aware　of　that。　It　was　only　the　first　clue　that　led　me　on　a　string　of　deductions；　the　conclusion　of　which　was　that　the　Stormcloud　still　exists。　It　is　here；　Dottore；　in　Italy。〃　
　〃If　only　it　were　so！　Where　did　you　get　this　hair？〃　
　〃From　a　crime　scene　in　Tuscany。〃　
　〃For　God's　sake；　man：who　has　it？　〃　
　〃I　don't　yet　know　for　certain。〃　
　〃How　will　you　find　out？〃　
　〃First；　I　need　to　learn　the　name　of　the　family　that　originally　owned　it。〃　
　Spezi　thought　for　a　moment。　〃I'd　start　with　Toscanelli's　heirs…he　was　said　to　have　had　a　dozen　children　from　almost　as　many　mistresses。　God　knows；　one　might　still　be　alive　somewhere…and　now　that　I　think　of　it；　it　seems　to　me　there's　a　granddaughter　or　some　such　here　in　Italy。　He　was　a　notorious　womanizer；　drinker　of　absinthe；　indiscreet　in　his　later　years。　Perhaps　he　told　one　of　his　mistresses；　who　then　might　have　passed　it　on　to　her　issue。〃　
　〃An　excellent　suggestion。〃　Pendergast　rose。　〃You　have　been　most　generous；　Dottore。　When　I　do　learn　more　about　the　Stormcloud's　whereabouts；　I　promise　I　shall　share　the　facts　with　you。　For　now；　I　thank　you　for　your　time。〃　
　Pendergast　led　the　way　back　out　through　the　narrow　streets　with　the　same　caution　he'd　shown　in　approaching　Spezi's　workshop。　By　the　time　they'd　reached　the　café；　however；　he　seemed　to　have　satisfied　himself　on　some　point；　and　suggested　they　stop　for　another　espresso。　Standing　at　the　bar；　he　turned　to　D'Agosta　with　a　smile。　
　〃And　now；　my　dear　Vincent…do　you　have　a　theory？〃　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　〃Most　of　one；　anyway。〃　
　〃Excellent！　Don't　tell　me　yet。　Let　us　continue　our　investigations　in　silence　just　a　little　longer。　The　time　will　soon　e　when　we　need　to　share　our　conclusions。〃　
　〃Fine　by　me。〃　
　D'Agosta　sipped　the　bitter　drink。　He　wondered　if　it　was　possible　to　get　a　cup　of　decent　American　coffee　somewhere　in　Italy　instead　of　this　poisonous　black　stuff　that　stripped　the　inside　of　your　throat　and　boiled　in　your　stomach　for　hours　afterward。　
　Pendergast　tossed　his　off；　then　leaned　against　the　bar。　〃Can　you　imagine；　Vincent；　what　the　Renaissance　would　have　been　like　had　Michelangelo'sDavid　been　carved　in　green　marble？〃　
　　　
　63　
　
　Captain　of　Detectives　Laura　Hayward　sat　in　the　orange　plasticchair；　coffee　going　cold　in　its　Styrofoam　cup。　She　was　acutely　aware　of　being　both　the　youngest　person；　and　the　only　female；　in　this　room　full　of　high…ranking　police　officers。　The　walls　of　the　conference　room　were　painted　the　usual　pale　puce。　A　picture　of　Rudolph　Giuliani　decorated　one　wall；　framed　together　with　a　picture　of　the　Twin　Towers　and；　below；　a　list　of　police　officers　killed　in　the　attacks。　No　picture　of　the　current　mayor；　president　of　the　U。S。；　or　anyone　else。　
　Hayward　liked　that。　
　missioner　of　Police　Henry　Rocker　sat　at　the　head　of　the　table；　his　large　hand　permanently　closed　around　a　huge　mug　of　black　coffee；　his　permanently　tired　face　gazing　down　the　middle　of　the　table。　To　his　right　sat　Milton　Grable；　captain　of　patrol　for　the　precinct　in　which　Cutforth　had　been　murdered　and　the　tent　city　erected。　
　Hayward　checked　her　watch。　It　was　9A。M。　sharp。　
　〃Grable？〃　Rocker　said；　opening　the　meeting。　
　Grable　cleared　his　throat；　shuffled　some　papers。　〃As　you　know；　missioner；　this　tent　city　is　being　a　problem。　A　big　problem。〃　
　The　only　acknowledgment　of　this；　it　seemed　to　Hayward；　was　that　the　dark　circles　under　Rocker's　eyes　grew　darker。　
　〃We　got　a　couple　hundred　people　living　across　the　street　from　the　most　exclusive　neighborhood　in　my　precinct…the　whole　city；　in　fact…and　they're　trashing　the　park；　pissing　in　the　bushes；　shitting　everywhere…〃　His　eyes　darted　to　Hayward。　〃Sorry；　ma'am。〃　
　〃It's　all　right；　Captain；〃　Hayward　said　crisply。　〃I'm　acquainted　with　both　the　term　and　the　bodily　function。〃　
　〃Right。〃　
　〃Proceed；〃　the　missioner　said　dryly。　Hayward　thought　she　noticed　a　subtle　flicker　of　amusement　in　Rocker's　tired　eyes。　
　〃We're　getting　calls　up　the　wazoo〃…another　glance　at　Hayward…〃from　important　people。　You　know　who　I'm　referring　to；　sir。　They're　demanding；　they'rescreaming　；　for　something　to　be　done。　And　they're　right。　These　people　in　the　park　have　no　permit。〃　
　Hayward　shifted　in　her　chair。　Her　job　was　on　the　Cutforth　murder；　not　listening　to　some　precinct　captain　talk　about　permits。　
　〃It　isn't　a　political　protest；　a　question　of　freedom　of　speech；〃　Grable　went　on。　〃It's　a　bunch　of　religious　nuts；　egged　on　by　this　so…called　Reverend　Buck。　Who；　by　the　way；　did　nine　years　in　Joliet　for　murder　two；　shot　some　clerk　over　a　pack　of　gum。〃　
　〃Is　that　right？〃　Rocker　murmured。　〃And　why　not　murder　one？〃　
　〃Plea…bargained　it　down。　The　point　I'm　making；　missioner；　is　that　we're　not　dealing　with　a　simple　fanatic　here。　Buck's　a　dangerous　man。　And　the　damnPost　is　beating　the　drum；　doing　all　they　can　to　keep　things　stirred　up。　It's　getting　worse　by　the　day。〃　
　Hayward　knew　the　facts　already；　and　she　half　tuned　Grable　out；　her　mind　turning　to　D'Agosta　and　Italy。　She　realized；　with　a　twinge　she　didn't　fully　understand；　that　he　was　overdue　for　a　phone　update。　Now；　there　was　a　real　cop。　And　where　did　it　get　him？　It　was　guys　like　Grable　who　got　the　promotions…desk　jockeys。　
　〃This　isn't　just　a　precinct　situation。　It's　a　problem　for　the　whole　city。〃　Grable　laid　his　hands　on　the　table；　palms…up。　〃I　want　a　SWAT　team　to　go　in　there　and　bring　this　man　out　before　we　have　a　riot　on　our　hands。〃　
　When　Rocker　replied；　his　voice　was　gravelly　and　calm。　〃And　that's　just　what　we're　here　for；　Captain：　to　figure　out　a　waynot　to　have　a　riot　on　our　hands。〃　
　〃Exactly；　sir。〃　
　Rocker　turned　to　a　man　sitting　at　his　left。　〃Wentworth？〃　
　Hayward　had　no　idea　who　this　was。　She'd　never　seen　him　before；　and　there　were　no　insignia　on　his　suit　to　indicate　rank。　He　didn't　even　look　like　a　cop。　
　Wentworth　turned；　eyes　half　lidded；　fingers　tented；　and　took　a　long；　slow　breath　before　answering。　
　Psychologist；thought　Hayward。　
　〃As　far　as　this；　ah；Buck　fellow　is　concerned；〃　Wentworth　drawled；　〃he's　a　mon…enough　personality　type。　Without　an　interview；　of　course；　it's　impossible　to　develop　a　firm　diagnosis。　But　from　what　I've　observed；　he　exhibits　a　marked　psychopathology：　possibly　paranoid　schizophrenic；　potential　for　a　Messianic　plex。　There's　a　good　chance　he　suffers　from　a　delusion　of　persecution。　This　is　plicated　by　the　fact　that　the　man　is　prone　to　violence。　I　would　definitelynot　remend　sending　in　a　SWAT　team。〃　He　paused　thoughtfully。　〃The　others　are　simply　followers　and　will　respond　as　Buck　responds：　with　violence　or　with　cooperation。　They　will　follow　his　lead。　The　key　here　is　getting　Buck　out　of　the　picture。　I　would　suggest　that　the　movement　will　collapse　of　its　own　accord　once　Buck　is　removed。〃　
　〃Right；〃　said　Grable。　〃But　how　do　you　get　him　out；　if　not　with　a　SWAT　team？〃　
　〃If　you　threaten　a　man　like　Buck；　he'll　lash　out。　Violence　is　the　language　of　last　resort　for　such　a　man。　I　would　suggest　sending　an　officer　or　two　in　there…unarmed；　nonthreatening；　preferably　female　and　attractive…to　take　him　out。　A　gentle　and　nonprovocative　arrest。　Do　it　quickly；　surgically。　Within　a　day；　the　tent　city　will　be　gone；　his　followers　off　to　the　next　guru；　or　Grateful　Dead　concert；　or　whatever　they　were　doing　before　they　read　those　articles　in　thePost　。〃　Another　long　exhalation。　〃That　is　my　considered　advice。〃　
　Hayward　couldn't　help　rolling　her　eyes。　Buck；　a　schizophrenic？　His　speeches；　as　lovingly　quoted　in　thePost　；　showed　none　of　the　disorganized　thought　processes　you'd　expect　from　schizophrenia。　
　Rocker；　who　was　about　to　pass　over　her；　caught　her　expression。　〃Hayward？　Do　you　have　something　to　contribute？〃　
　〃Thank　you；　sir。　While　I　agree　with　some　of　Mr。　Wentworth's　analysis　of　the　situation；　I　disagree　with　his　remendation；　with　all　due　respect。〃　
　She　found　Wentworth's　watery　eyes　on　her；　clearly　pitying　her　ignorance。　Too　late；　she　realized　she　had　called　him　〃Mr。〃　instead　of　〃Dr。〃　A　cardinal　sin　among　academics；　and　his　antagonism　was　palpable。　Well；　screw　him。　
　〃There's　no　such　thing　as　a　nonprovocative　arrest；〃　she　went　on。　〃Any　attempt　to　go　in　there　and　take　Buck　away　by　force…even　gently…won't　work。　If　he's　crazy；　then　he's　crazy　like　a　fox。　He'll　refuse　to　e。　As　soon　as　the　cuffs　appear；　your　two　'preferably　female　and　attractive'　cops　will　find　themselves　in　a　nasty　situation。〃　
　〃missioner；〃　Grable　interrupted；　〃this　man　is　openly　flouting　the　law。　I'm　getting　a　thousand　calls　a　day　from　businesses　and　residents　on　Fifth　Avenue…the　Sherry　Netherland；　the　Metropolitan　Club；　the　Plaza。　The　phone　lines　are　jammed。　And　you　can　bet　that　if　they're　calling　me；　they're　calling　the　mayor。〃　He　paused；　letting　this　sink　in。　
　〃I　am　acutely　aware　they　have　been　calling　the