sk.dreamcatcher-第74部分

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oor。


3

Perlmutter　had　read　Heart　of　Darkness；　had　seen　Apocalypse　Now；　and　had　on　many　occasions　thought　that　the　name　Kurtz　was　simply　a　little　too　convenient。　He　would　have　bet　a　hundred　dollars　（a　great　sum　for　a　non…wagering　artistic　fellow　such　as　himself）　that　it　wasn't　the　boss's　real　name　…　that　the　boss's　real　name　was　Arthur　Holsapple　or　Dagwood　Elgart；　maybe　even　Paddy　Maloney。　Kurtz？　Unlikely。　It　was　almost　surely　an　affectation；　as　much　a　prop　as　George　Patton's　pearl…handled　。45。　The　men；　some　of　whom　had　been　with　Kurtz　since　Desert　Storm　（Archie　Perlmutter　didn't　go　back　nearly　that　far）；　thought　he　was　one　crazy　motherfucker；　and　so　did　Perlmutter　。　。　。　crazy　like　Patton　had　been　crazy。　Crazy　like　a　fox；　in　other　words。　Probably　when　he　was　shaving　in　the　morning　he　looked　at　his　reflection　and　practiced　saying　'The　horror；　the　horror'　in　just　the　right　Marlon　Brando　whisper。
　　　　So　Pearly　felt　disquiet　but　no　unusual　disquiet　as　he　escorted　Cook's　Third　Melrose　into　the　over…warm　mand　trailer。　And　Kurtz　looked　pretty　much　okay。　The　skipper　was　sitting　in　a　cane　rocking　chair　in　the　living…room　area。　He　had　removed　his　coverall　…　it　hung　on　the　door　through　which　Perlmutter　and　Melrose　had　entered　…　and　received　them　in　his　longjohns。　From　one　post　of　the　rocking　chair　his　pistol　hung　by　its　belt；　not　a　pearl…handled　。45　but　a　nine…millimeter　automatic。
　　　　All　the　electronic　gear　was　rebounding。　On　Kurtz's　desk　the　fax　hummed　constantly；　piling　up　paper。　Every　fifteen　seconds　or　so；　Kurtz's　iMac　cried　'You've　got　mail！'　in　its　cheery　robot　voice。　Three　radios；　all　turned　low；　crackled　and　hopped　with　transmissions。　Mounted　on　the　fake　pine　behind　the　desk　were　two　framed　photographs。　Like　the　sign　on　the　door；　the　photos　went　with　Kurtz　everywhere。　The　one　on　the　left；　titled　INVESTMENT；　showed　an　angelic　young　fellow　in　a　Boy　Scout　uniform；　right　hand　raised　in　the　three…fingered　Boy　Scout　salute。　The　one　on　the　right；　labeled　DIVIDEND；　was　an　aerial　photograph　of　Berlin　taken　in　the　spring　of　1945。　Two　or　three　buildings　still　stood；　but　mostly　what　the　camera　showed　was　witless　brick…strewn　rubble。
　　　　。　Kurtz　waved　his　hand　at　the　desk。　'Don't　mind　all　that；　boys　…　it's　just　noise。　I've　got　Freddy　Johnson　to　deal　with　it；　but　I　sent　him　over　to　the　missary　to　grab　some　chow。　Told　him　to　take　his　time；　go　through　the　whole　four　courses；　soup　to　nuts；　poisson　to　sorbet；　because　this　situation　here　。　。　。　boys；　this　situation　here　is　near…bout　。　。　。　STABILIZED！'　He　gave　them　a　ferocious　FDR　grin　and　began　to　rock　in　his　chair。　Beside　him；　the　pistol　swung　in　the　holster　at　the　end　of　its　belt　like　a　pendulum。
　　　　Melrose　returned　Kurtz's　smile　tentatively；　Perlmutter　with　less　reserve。　He　had　Kurtz's　number；　all　right；　the　boss　was　an　existential　wannabe。　。　。　and　you　wanted　to　believe　that　was　a　good　call。　A　brilliant　call。　A　liberal　arts　education　didn't　have　many　benefits　in　the　career　Military；　but　there　were　a　few。　Phrase…making　was　one　of　them。　　　　
　　　　'My　only　order　to　Lieutenant　Johnson　…　whoops；　no　rank　on　this　one；　to　my　good　pal　Freddy　Johnson　is　what　I　meant　to　say　…　was　that　he　say　grace　before　chowing　in。　Do　you　pray；　boys？'
　　　　Melrose　nodded　as　tentatively　as　he　had　smiled；　Perlmutter　did　so　indulgently。　He　felt　sure　that；　like　his　name；　Kurtz's　oft…professed　belief　in　God　was　plumage。
　　　　Kurtz　rocked；　looking　happily　at　the　two　men　with　the　snow　melting　from　their　footgear　and　puddling　on　the　floor。　'The　best　prayers　are　the　child's　prayers；'　Kurtz　said。　'The　simplicity；　you　know。　〃God　is　great；　God　is　good；　let　us　thank　Him　for　our　food。〃　Isn't　that　simple？　Isn't　it　beautiful？'
　　　　'Yes；　b…'　Pearly　began。
　　　　'Shut　the　fuck　up；　you　hound；'　Kurtz　said　cheerfully。　Still　rocking。　The　gun　still　swinging　back　and　forth　at　the　end　of　its　belt。　He　looked　from　Pearly　to　Melrose。　'What　do　you　think；　laddie…buck？　Is　that　a　beautiful　little　prayer；　or　is　that　a　beautiful　little　prayer？'
　　　　'Yes；　s…'　　　
　　　　'Or　Allah　akhbar；　as　our　Arab　friends　say；　there　is　no　God　but　God。〃　What　could　be　more　simple　than　that？　It　cuts　the　pizza　directly　down　the　middle；　if　you　see　what　I　mean。'
　　　　They　didn't　reply。　Kurtz　was　rocking　faster　now；　and　the　pistol　was　swinging　faster；　and　Perlmutter　began　to　feel　a　little　antsy；　as　he　had　earlier　in　the　day；　before　Underhill　arrived　and　sort　of　cooled　Kurtz　out。　This　was　probably　just　more　plumage；　but…
　　　　'Or　Moses　at　the　burning　bush！'　Kurtz　cried。　His　lean　and　rather　horsey　face　lit　with　a　daffy　smile。　〃'Who'm　I　talking　to？〃　Moses　asks；　and　God　gives　him　the　old　〃I　yam　what　I　yam　and　that's　all　that　I　yam；　uck…uck…uck。〃　What　a　kidder；　that　God；　eh；　Mr　Melrose；　did　you　really　refer　to　our　emissaries　from　the　Great　Beyond　as　〃space…niggers〃？'
　　　　Melrose's　mouth　dropped　open。
　　　　'Answer　me；　buck。'
　　　　'Sir；　I…'
　　　　'Call　me　sir　again　while　the　group　is　hot；　Mr　Melrose；　and　you　will　celebrate　your　next　two　birthdays　in　the　stockade；　do　you　understand　that？　Catch　my　old　drift…ola？'
　　　　'Yes；　boss。'　Melrose　had　snapped　to　attention；　his　face　dead　white　except　for　the　patches　of　cold…induced　red　on　his　cheeks；　patches　that　were　cut　neatly　in　two　by　the　straps　of　his　mask。
　　　　'Now　did　you　or　did　you　not　refer　to　our　visitors　as　〃space…niggers〃？'
　　　　'Sir；　I　may　have　just　in　passing　said　something…'
　　　　Moving　with　a　speed　Perlmutter　could　scarcely　credit　（it　was　like　a　special　effect　in　a　James　Cameron　movie；　almost）；　Kurtz　snatched　the　nine…millimeter　from　the　swinging　holster；　pointed　it　without　seeming　to　aim；　and　fired。　The　top　half　of　the　sneaker　on　Melrose's　left　foot　exploded。　Fragments　of　canvas　flew。　Blood　and　flecks　of　flesh　splattered　Perlmutter's　pantsleg。
　　　　I　didn't　see　that；　Pearly　thought。　7hat　didn't　happen。
　　　　But　Melrose　was　screaming；　looking　down　at　his　ruined　left　foot　with　agonized　disbelief　and　howling　his　head　off。　Perlmutter　could　see　bone　in　there；　and　felt　his　stomach　turn　over。
　　　　Kurtz　didn't　get　himself　out　of　his　rocker　as　quickly　as　he'd　gotten　his　gun　out　of　his　holster　…　Perlmutter　could　at　least　see　this　happening　…　but　it　was　still　fast。　Spookily　fast。
　　　　He　grabbed　Melrose　by　the　shoulder　and　peered　into　the　cook　third's　contorted　face　with　great　intensity。　'Stop　that　blatting；　laddie…buck。'
　　　　Melrose　carried　on　blatting。　His　foot　was　gushing；　and　the　part　with　the　toes　on　it　looked　to　Pearly　as　if　it　might　be　severed　fi7om　the　part　with　the　heel　on　it。　Pearly's　world　went　gray　and　started　to　lose　focus。　With　all　the　force　of　his　will；　he　forced　that　grayness　away。　If　he　passed　out　now；　Christ　alone　knew　what　Kurtz　might　do　to　him。　Perlmutter　had　heard　stories　and　had　dismissed　ninety　per　cent　of　them　out　of　hand；　thinking　they　were　either　exaggerations　or　Kurtz…planted　propaganda　designed　to　enhance　his　loony…crafty　image。
　　　　Now　I　know　better；　Perlmutter　thought。　This　isn't　myth…making；　this　is　the　myth。
　　　　Kurtz；　moving　with　a　finicky；　almost　surgical　precision；　placed　the　barrel　of　his　pistol　against　the　center　of　Melrose's　cheese…white　forehead。
　　　　'Squelch　that　womanish　bawling；　buck；　or　I'll　squelch　it　for　you。　These　are　hollow…points；　as　I　think　even　a　dimly　lit　American　like　yourself　must　now　surely　know。'
　　　　Melrose　somehow　choked　the　screams　off；　turned　them　into　low；　in…the…throat　sobs。　This　seemed　to　satisfy　Kurtz。
　　　　'Just　so　you　can　hear　me；　buck；　You　have　to　hear　me；　because　you　have　to　spread　the　word。　I　believe；　praise　God；　that　your　foot；　what's　left　of　it；　will　articulate　the　basic　concept；　but　it's　your　own　sacred　mouth　that　must　share　the　details。　So　are　you　listening；　bucko？　Are　you　listening　for　the　details？'
　　　　Still　sobbing；　his　eyes　starting　from　his　face　like　blue　glass　balls；　Melrose　managed　a　nod。
　　　　Quick　as　a　striking　snake；　Kurtz's　head　turned　and　Perlmutter　clearly　saw　the　man's　face。　The　madness　there　was　stamped　into　the　features　as　clearly　as　a　warrior's　tattoos。　At　that　moment　everything　Perlmutter　had　ever　believed　about　his　OIC　fell　down。
　　　　'What　about　you；　bucko？　Listening？　Because　you're　a　messenger；　too。　All　of　us　are　messengers。'
　　　　Pearly　nodded。　The　door　opened　and　he　saw；　with　unutterable　relief；　that　the　newer　was　Owen　Underhill。　Kurtz's