dk.coldfire-第3部分

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aterial　to　write　the　piece。　
　〃Louise；〃　she　said；　〃in　light　of　what　you've　told　me；　I　think　you're　the　most　natural　person　I've　ever　met。〃　
　Louise　didn't　get　it。　Perceiving　a　pliment　instead　of　a　slight；　she　beamed　at　Holly。　
　〃Trees　are　sisters　to　us；〃　Louise　said；　eager　to　reveal　another　facet　of　her　philosophy；　evidently　having　forgotten　that　human　beings　were　lice；　not　trees。　〃Would　you　cut　off　the　limbs　of　your　sister；　cruelly　section　her　flesh；　and　build　your　house　with　pieces　of　her　corpse？〃　〃No；　I　wouldn't；〃　Holly　said　sincerely。　〃Besides；　the　city　probably　wouldn't　approve　a　building　permit　for　such　an　unconventional　structure。〃　
　Holly　was　safe：　Louise　had　no　sense　of　humor…therefore；　no　capacity　to　be　offended　by　the　wisecrack。　
　While　the　woman　prattled　on；　Holly　leaned　into　the　picnic　table；　feigning　interest；　and　did　a　fast…backward　scan　of　her　entire　adult　life。　She　decided　that　she　had　spent　all　of　that　precious　time　in　the　pany　of　idiots；　fools；　and　crooks；　listening　to　their　harebrained　or　sociopathic　plans　and　dreams；　searching　fruitlessly　for　nuggets　of　wisdom　and　interest　in　their　boobish　or　psychotic　stories。　
　Increasingly　miserable；　she　began　to　brood　about　her　personal　life。　She　had　made　no　effort　to　develop　close　women　friends　in　Portland；　perhaps　because　in　her　heart　she　felt　that　Portland　was　only　one　more　stop　on　her　peripatetic　journalistic　journey。　Her　experiences　with　men　were；　if　anything；　even　more　disheartening　than　her　professional　experiences　with　interviewees　of　both　sexes。　Though　she　still　hoped　to　meet　the　right　man；　get　married；　have　children；　and　enjoy　a　fulfilling　domestic　life；　she　wondered　if　anyone　nice；　sane；　intelligent；　and　genuinely　interesting　would　ever　enter　her　life。　
　Probably　not。　
　And　if　someone　like　that　miraculously　crossed　her　path　one　day；　his　pleasant　demeanor　would　no　doubt　prove　to　be　a　mask；　and　under　the　mask　would　be　a　leering　serial　killer　with　a　chainsaw　fetish。　
　Outside　the　terminal　at　Portland　International　Airport；　Jim　Ironheart　got　into　a　taxi　operated　by　something　called　the　New　Rose　City　Cab　pany；　which　sounded　like　a　corporate　stepchild　of　the　long…forgotten　hippie　era；　born　in　the　age　of　love　beads　and　flower　power。　But　the　cabbie　Frazier　Tooley；　according　to　his　displayed　license…explained　that　Portland　was　called　the　City　of　Roses；　which　bloomed　there　in　multitudes　and　were　meant　to　be　symbols　of　renewal　and　growth。　〃The　same　way；〃　he　raid；　〃that　street　beggars　are　symbols　of　decay　and　collapse　in　New　York；〃　displaying　a　curiously　charming　smugness　that　Jim　sensed　was　shared　by　many　Portlanders。　
　Tooley；　who　looked　like　an　Italian　operatic　tenor　cast　from　the　same　mold　as　Luciano　Pavarotti；　was　not　sure　he　had　understood　Jim's　instructions。　〃You　just　want　me　to　drive　around　for　a　while？〃　〃Yeah。　I'd　like　to　see　some　of　the　city　before　I　check　into　the　hotel。　
　I've　never　been　here　before。〃　
　The　truth　was；　he　didn't　know　at　which　hotel　he　should　stay　or　whether　he　would　be　required　to　do　the　job　soon；　tonight；　or　maybe　tomorrow。　He　hoped　that　he　would　learn　what　was　expected　of　him　if　he　just　tried　to　relax　and　waited　for　enlightenment。　
　Tooley　was　happy　to　oblige…not　with　enlightenment　but　with　a　tour　of　Portland…because　a　large　fare　would　tick　up　on　the　meter；　but　also　because　he　clearly　enjoyed　showing　off　his　city。　In　fact；　it　was　exceptionally　attractive。　Historic　brick　structures　and　nineteenth…century　cast…iron…front　buildings　were　carefully　preserved　among　modern　glass　high　rises。　Parks　full　of　fountains　and　trees　were　so　numerous　that　it　sometimes　seemed　the　city　was　in　a　forest；　and　roses　were　everywhere；　not　as　many　blooms　as　in　the　summer　but　radiantly　colorful。　
　After　less　than　half　an　hour；　Jim　suddenly　was　overe　by　the　feeling　that　time　was　running　out。　He　sat　forward　on　the　rear　seat　and　heard　himself　say：　〃Do　you　know　the　McAlbery　School？〃　〃Sure；〃　Tooley　said。　
　〃What　is　it？〃　〃The　way　you　asked；　I　thought　you　knew。　Private　elementary　school　over　on　the　west　side。〃　
　Jim's　heart　was　beating　hard　and　fast。　〃Take　me　there。〃　
　Frowning　at　him　in　the　rearview　mirror；　Tooley　said；　〃Something　wrong？〃　〃I　have　to　be　there。〃　
　Tooley　braked　at　a　red　traffic　light。　He　looked　over　his　shoulder　〃What's　wrong？〃　〃I　just　have　to　be　there；〃　Jim　said　sharply；　frustratingly。　
　〃Sure；　no　sweat。〃　
　Fear　had　rippled　through　Jim　ever　since　he　had　spoken　the　words　〃life　line〃　to　the　woman　in　the　supermarket　more　than　four　hours　ago。　those　ripples　swelled　into　dark　waves　that　carried　him　toward　McAlbery　School。　
　With　an　overwhelming　sense　of　urgency　that　he　could　not　explain　he　said；　〃I　have　to　be　there　in　fifteen　minutes！〃　〃Why　didn't　you　mention　it　earlier？〃　He　wanted　to　say；　I　didn't　know　earlier。　Instead　he　said；　〃Can　you　me　there　in　time？〃　〃It'll　be　tight。〃　
　〃I'll　pay　triple　the　meter。〃　
　〃Triple？〃　〃If　you　make　it　in　time；〃　he　said；　withdrawing　his　wallet　from　his　pocket。　He　extracted　a　hundred…dollar　bill　and　thrust　it　at　Tooley。　〃　this　in　advance。〃　
　〃It's　that　important？〃　〃It's　life　and　death。〃　
　Tooley　gave　him　a　look　that　said：　What…are　you　nuts？　〃The　light　just　changed；〃　Jim　told　him。　〃Let's　move！〃　Although　Tooley's　skeptical　frown　deepened；　he　faced　front　again；　took　a　left　turn　at　the　intersection；　and　tramped　on　the　accelerator。　
　Jim　kept　glancing　at　his　watch　all　the　way；　and　they　arrived　at　the　school　with　only　three　minutes　to　spare。　He　tossed　another　bill　at　Tooley　paying　even　more　than　three　times　the　meter；　pulled　open　the　door；　scrambled　out　with　his　suitcase。　
　Tooley　leaned　through　his　open　window。　〃You　want　me　to　wait？〃　Slamming　the　door；　Jim　said；　〃No。　No；　thanks。　You　can　go。〃　
　He　turned　away　and　heard　the　taxi　drive　off　as　he　anxiously　studied　the　front　of　McAlbery　School。　The　building　was　actually　a　rambling　colonial　house　with　a　deep　front　porch；　onto　which　had　been　added　two　three…story　wings　to　provide　more　classrooms。　It　was　shaded　by　Douglas　and　huge　old　sycamores。　With　its　lawn　and　playground；　it　occupied　the　entire　length　of　that　short　block。　
　In　the　house　part　of　the　structure　directly　in　front　of　him；　kids　were　ing　out　of　the　double　doors；　onto　the　porch；　and　down　the　steps。　
　Laughing　and　chattering；　carrying　books　and　large　drawing　tablets　and　bright　lunchboxes　decorated　with　cartoon　characters；　they　approached　Jim　along　the　school　walk；　passed　through　the　open　gate　in　the　spearpoint　iron　fence；　and　turned　either　uphill　or　down；　moving　away　from　him　in　both　directions。　
　Two　minutes　left。　He　didn't　have　to　look　at　his　watch。　His　heart　was　pounding　two　beats　for　every　second；　and　he　knew　the　time　as　surely　as　if　he　had　been　a　clock。　
　Sunshine；　filtered　through　the　interstices　of　the　arching　trees；　fell　in　delicate　patterns　across　the　scene　and　the　people　in　it；　as　if　everything　had　been　draped　over　with　an　enormous　piece　of　gossamer　lace　work　stitched　from　golden　thread。　That　netlike　ornamental　fabric　of　light　seemed　to　shimmer　in　time　to　the　rising　and　falling　music　of　the　children's　shouts　and　laughter；　and　the　moment　should　have　been　peaceful；　idyllic。　
　But　Death　was　ing。　
　Suddenly　he　knew　that　Death　was　ing　for　one　of　the　children；　not　for　any　of　the　three　teachers　standing　on　the　porch；　just　for　one　child。　Not　a　big　catastrophe；　not　an　explosion　or　fire　or　a　falling　airplane　that　would　wipe　out　a　dozen　of　them。　Just　one；　a　small　tragedy。　But　which　one？　Jim　refocused　his　attention　from　the　scene　to　the　players　in　it；　studying　the　children　as　they　approached　him；　seeking　the　mark　of　imminent　death　on　one　of　their　fresh　young　faces。　But　they　all　looked　as　if　they　would　live　forever。　
　〃Which　one？〃　he　said　aloud；　speaking　neither　to　himself　nor　to　the　children　but　to。　。　。　。　Well；　he　supposed　he　was　speaking　to　God。　〃Which　one？〃　Some　kids　went　uphill　toward　the　crosswalks　at　that　intersection；　and　others　headed　downhill　toward　the　opposite　end　of　the　block。　In　both　directions；　women　crossing　guards　in　bright…orange　safety　vests；　holding　big　red　paddlelike　〃stop〃　signs；　had　begun　to　shepherd　their　charges　across　the　streets　in　small　groups。　No　moving　cars　or　trucks　were　in　sight；　so　even　without　the　crossing　guards　there　seemed　to　be　little　threat