cc.fireice-第54部分

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ified　himself　to　the　man　who　answered　the　phone。
　
　〃This　is　Lord　Dodson。　You　say　you're　a　marine　historian？〃　He　sounded　bemused　but　pleasant；　speaking　in　the　clipped　accent　of　the　British　upper　class。
　
　〃That's　correct。　I　came　across　a　reference　to　your　grandfather's　memoirs　while　doing　some　research　on　a　ship　called　the　Odessa　Sta；；　The　library　apparently　relinquished　the　material　at　the　request　of　your　family。　I　wonder　when　the　material　might　be　going　back　to　Guildhall。〃
　
　There　was　a　silence　on　the　other　end。　Then　Dodson　said；　〃Never！　I　mean；　some　of　the　material　is　much　too　personal　in　nature。　You　must　understand　that；　Mr。　Perlman。〃　He　sounded　flustered。
　
　〃The　name　is　Perlmutter；　if　you　don't　mind；　Lord　Dodson。　Surely　the　historical　material　could　be　made　separate　from　the　personal。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　Mr。　Perlmutter；〃　Dodson　said；　getting　his　voice　under　control。　〃It's　all　part　and　parcel。　It　would　do　no　one　any　good　and　cause　a　great　deal　of　painful　embarrassment　if　this　material　were　made　public。〃
　〃Forgive　me　for　being　obtuse；　but　I　understand　that　he　willed　all　the　material　to　the　library　to　be　put　in　the　archives。〃
　〃Yes；　that's　true。　But　you　have　to　understand　my　grandfather。　He　was　a　man　of　towering　rectitude。〃　Catching　the　unintentional　parison　to　his　own　character；　Dodson　said；　〃What　I　mean　was　that　he　was　naive　in　many　ways。〃
　〃He　couldn't　have　been　too　naive　to　hold　a　high　post　in　the　Foreign　Office。〃
　
　Dodson　laughed　nervously。　〃You　Americans　can　be　damnably　persistent。　Look　Mr。　Perlmutter；　I　don't　wish　to　be　rude；　but　I　must　terminate　this　conversation。　Thank　you　for　your　interest。　Good…bye。〃
　
　The　phone　went　dead。　Perlmutter　stared　at　it　for　a　moment　and　shook　his　head。　Strange。　Why　would　the　old　boy　be　so　upset　at　an　innocent　query？　What　secret　could　be　so　painful　after　so　many　years？　Well；　he　had　done　his　best。　He　punched　out　the　number　Austin　had　given　him。　He　would　let　others　determine　why　the　Odessa　Star　could　upset　someone　more　than　eighty　years　after　the　ship　had　gone　to　her　grave　in　the　Black　Sea。
　
　…23…
　MOSCOW；　RUSSIA
　
　THE　NIGHTCLUB　WAS　a　short　walk　from　Gorky　Park；　in　a　narrow　alley　that　had　once　been　a　rat…infested　flophouse　for　vodka…soaked　human　derelicts　who　used　trash…can　covers　as　their　pillows。　The　drunks　had　been　displaced　by　swarms　of　young　people　who　looked　as　if　they　had　stepped　off　a　UFO。　The　crowds　gathered　each　night　out…　side　a　blue　door　lit　by　a　single　lamp。　The　unmarked　door　was　the　entrance　to　a　Moscow　night　spot　so　trendy　it　didn't　even　have　a　name。
　
　The　enterprising　young　Muscovite　who'd　founded　the　club　had　seen　the　potential　in　bringing　together　Moscow's　crass　nouveau　riche　and　the　tackiest　of　Western　pop　culture。　He'd　modeled　his　venture　on　Club　54；　the　defunct　but　exclusive　New　York　dive　that　had　made　international　headlines　before　it　drowned　in　a　sea　of　tax　woes　and　illegal　drugs。　The　club　was　located　in　a　cavernous　space　that　had　once　housed　a　state…run　sweatshop　where　underpaid　workers　toiled　making　ripoffs　of　American　jeans。　Clubgoers　who　were　allowed　inside　found　frenetic　dance　music；　stroboscopic　lighting　and　designer　drugs　supplied　by　the　Russian　Mafia；　which　had　taken　over　the　club　after　the　original　owner　died　of　acute　lead　poisoning。
　
　Petrov　stood　at　the　edge　of　the　crowd；　watching。　The　hopeful　patrons　wore　bizarre　costumes　to　attract　the　attention　of　the　burly　doorman　in　black　leather　who　stood　between　them　and　drug…induced　ecstasy。　Petrov　stared　at　the　crowd　in　wonder　for　a　moment；　then　shouldered　his　way　between　a　young　woman　dressed　in　a　translucent　plastic　halter　and　shorts　and　her　male　panion；　who　wore　an　aluminum　foil　bikini。　The　doorman　glared　at　the　approaching　stranger　like　a　bull　mastiff　watching　a　cat　move　in　on　its　food　dish。　Petrov　stopped　short　of　the　entrance　and　handed　the　doorman　a　folded　sheet　of　paper。
　

　He　read　the　note　with　small；　suspicious　eyes；　pocketed　the　hundred…dollar　bill　inside；　then　called　another　guard　to　take　his　place。　He　disappeared　through　the　blue　door　and　returned　with　a　stocky　middle…aged　man　dressed　in　the　uniform　of　a　Soviet　naval　officer；　plete　with　high…peaked　cap。　The　officer's　chest　was　covered　with　more　medals　than　anyone　could　have　earned　in　several　lifetimes。　The　guard　pointed　out　Petrov。　The　man　in　uniform　scanned　the　faces；　scowling。　Recognition　flickered　in　his　heavy…lidded　eyes　and　he　waved　Petrov　inside。
　
　The　full　impact　of　the　pulsating　music　almost　knocked　Petrov　over。　Out　on　the　huge　dance　floor；　a　mass　of　bodies　writhed　as　one　to　the　monotonous　rave　beat　from　dozens　of　speakers　that　looked　as　if　they　had　been　used　at　Woodstock。　He　was　grateful　when　the　naval　officer　led　him　down　a　passageway　into　a　storage　room　and　closed　the　door　so　that　the　sound　was　a　muffled　throb。
　
　〃I　e　here　sometimes　to　get　away　from　that　racket；〃　the　naval　officer　said。　The　manding　voice　Petrov　remembered　had　bee　gravelly；　and　there　was　the　stale　smell　of　vodka　on　the　man's　breath。　His　thick　lips　curled　in　a　smile。　〃I　thought　you　were　dead；　tovarich。〃
　〃It's　a　miracle　I'm　not　dead；　Admiral；〃　Petrov　said；　eyeing　the　uniform　from　head　to　toe。　〃Some　things　are　worse　than　death。〃
　
　The　admiral's　smile　vanished。　〃You　don't　have　to　tell　me　how　low　I　have　fallen。　I　still　have　eyes。　But　no　lower　than　someone　who　would　amuse　himself　at　the　expense　of　an　old　rade。〃
　

　〃I　agree；　but　I　am　not　here　for　amusement。　I　came　to　ask　your　help　and　to　offer　mine。〃
　
　The　admiral　let　out　with　a　wet　laugh。　〃What　help　can　I　give　you？　I　am　nothing　but　a　clown。　The　human　garbage　that　runs　this　place　keeps　me　around　to　entertain　their　patrons　and　remind　them　of　the　bad　old　days。　Well；　they　were　not　bad　for　everyone。〃
　〃True；　my　friend。　Nor　were　they　good　for　everyone；〃　Petrov　said；　bringing　his　hand　up　to　the　scar　that　disfigured　his　face。
　
　〃In　the　old　days；　we　were　feared　and　respected。〃
　〃By　our　enemies；〃　Petrov　said。　〃Yet　we　were　despised　by　our　government；　who　quickly　forgot　our　sacrifices　when　they　no　longer　needed　us　for　their　dirty　work。　Your　once　proud　navy　is　a　joke。　Heroes　like　you　are　reduced　to　this。〃
　
　The　admiral's　shoulders　sagged　under　the　gaudy　epaulets。　Petrov　realized　he　had　gone　too　far。
　
　〃I'm　sorry；　Admiral。〃
　
　The　admiral　pulled　a　pack　of　Marlboros　from　a　pocket　and　offered　one　to　Petrov；　who　declined。　〃Yes；　I　believe　you　are　sorry。　So　are　we　all。''　He　stuck　a　cigarette　in　his　mouth　and　lit　up。　〃Well；　enough　talk　about　the　past。　What's　done　is　done。　Are　you　sure　you　don't　want　a　whore？　Not　all　my　job　is　for　show。　I　get　a　mission　and　an　employee　discount。　Capitalism　is　truly　a　wonderful　thing。〃
　
　Petrov　smiled　as　he　recalled　the　razor…sharp　wit　from　the　days　when　he　and　the　admiral　had　served　on　secret　missions　together。　With　the　changes　in　government；　the　admiral's　outspoken　criticisms　had　not　been　well　received　by　the　new　generation　of　thin…skinned　bureaucrats。　Petrov　had　survived　by　allowing　himself　to　sink；　undetected；　into　the　governmental　morass。　The　admiral　had　attempted　to　stand　above　the　fray；　and　his　demise　mirrored　that　of　his　beloved　navy。
　
　〃Later；　maybe。　But　for　now；　I　need　information　about　a　certain　naval　property。〃
　
　The　admiral's　eyes　narrowed　behind　their　thick　folds。　〃That　covers　a　wide　range。〃

　
　Petrov　said　one　word：　〃India。〃
　〃The　submarine？　Well；　well。　What　is　your　interest？〃
　〃It's　better　if　you　don't　know；　Admiral。〃
　〃You　mean　there　is　some　risk　involved　here？　Well；　that　must　be　worth　something。〃
　〃I'm　prepared　to　pay　for　the　information。〃　The　naval　officer　frowned；　and　a　sad　look　came　into　his　eyes。　〃Listen　to　me。　I　have　bee　no　better　than　the　prostitutes　who　get　their　customers　to　buy　them　glasses　of　fake　champagne。〃　He　sighed。　〃As　for　your　questions；　I'll　do　my　best　to　answer　them。〃
　〃Thank　you；　Admiral。　I　once　saw　an　India…class　sub　at　its　base；　but　never　went　aboard　one。　I　understand　it　was　designed　to　carry　on　operations　similar　to　mine。〃
　〃Integration　is　a　swearword　in　the　armed　forces　any…　where　in　the　world。　Ask　the　Americans　how　much　money　they've　wasted　in　duplication　because　the　army；　navy；　air　force　and　marines　wanted　to　have　their　own　versions　of　virtually　t