dk.solesurvivor-第16部分

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fety　to　be　guaranteed。　And　maybe　she　couldn't　get　in　touch　with　Rose　with　less　than　a　twenty…four…hour　notice。
　　'Besides；　Sugar；　a　girl　starts　to　wonder　why　you're　so　pitiful　desperate　if　you're　really　presentable。'
　　All　right。　Where　tomorrow　evening？'
　　'I'm　goin'　to　give　you　the　address　of　a　gourmet　coffee　shop　in　Westwood。　We'll　meet　out　front　at　six；　go　in　and　have　a　cup；　see　do　we　like　each　other。　If　I　think　you　really　are　presentable　and　you　think　I'm　as　sexy…smoky　as　my　voice　。　。　。　why；　then　it　could　be　a　shinin'　night　of　golden　memories。　You　have　a　pen　and　paper？'
　　'Yes；'　he　said；　and　he　wrote　down　the　name　and　address　of　the　coffee　shop　as　she　gave　it　to　him。
　　'Now　do　me　one　favour；　sugar。　You　have　a　paper　there　with　this　phone　number　on。　Tear　it　to　bitty　pieces　and　flush　it　down　a　john。'　When　Joe　hesitated；　Demi　said；　'Won't　be　no　good　ever　again；　anyway；'　and　she　hung　up。
　　The　three　typed　sentences　would　not　prove　that　Dr。　Tucker　had　survived　Flight　353　or　that　something　about　the　crash　was　not　kosher。　He　could　have　posed　them　himself。　Dr。　Tucker's　name　was　typed；　as　well；　so　there　was　no　evidentiary　signature。
　　Nevertheless；　he　was　loath　to　dispose　of　the　message。　Although　it　would　never　prove　anything　to　anyone　else；　it　made　these　fantastic　events　seem　more　real　to　him。
　　He　called　Demi's　number　again　to　see　if　she　would　answer　it　in　spite　of　what　she　had　said。
　　To　his　surprise；　he　got　a　recorded　message　from　the　telephone　pany　informing　him　that　the　number　he　had　called　was　no　longer　in　service。　He　was　advised　to　make　sure　that　he　had　entered　the　number　correctly　and　then　to　call　411　for　directory　assistance。　He　tried　the　number　again　with　the　same　result。
　　Neat　trick。　He　wondered　how　it　had　been　done。　Demi　clearly　was　more　sophisticated　than　her　grits…and…collard…greens　voice。
　　As　Joe　returned　the　handset　to　the　cradle；　the　telephone　rang；　startling　him　so　much　that　he　let　go　of　it　as　if　he　had　burned　his　fingers。　Embarrassed　by　his　edginess；　he　picked　it　up　on　the　third　ring。　'Hello？'
　　'Los　Angeles　Post？'　a　man　asked。
　　'Yes。'
　　'Is　this　Randy　Colway's　direct　line？'
　　'That's　right。'
　　'Are　you　Mr。　Colway？'
　　Startlement　and　the　interlude　with　Demi　had　left　Joe　slow　on　the　uptake。　Now　he　recognized　the　uninflected　voice　as　that　of　the　man　who　had　answered　the　phone　at　Rose　Marie　Tucker's　house　in　Manassas；　Virginia。
　　'Are　you　Mr。　Colway？'　the　caller　asked　again。
　　'I'm　Wallace　Blick；'　Joe　said。
　　'Mr。　Carpenter？'
　　Chills　climbed　the　ladder　of　his　spine；　vertebra　to　vertebra；　and　Joe　slammed　down　the　phone。
　　They　knew　where　he　was。
　　The　dozens　of　modular　workstations　no　longer　seemed　like　a　series　of　fortably　anonymous　nooks。　They　were　a　maze　with　too　many　blind　corners。
　　Quickly　he　gathered　the　printouts　and　the　message　that　Rose　Tucker　had　left　for　him。
　　As　he　was　getting　up　from　the　chair；　the　phone　rang　again。　He　didn't　answer　it。
　　
　　On　his　way　out　of　the　newsroom；　he　encountered　Dan　Shavers；　who　was　returning　from　the　photocopying　centre　with　a　sheaf　of　papers　in　his　left　hand　and　his　unlit　pipe　in　the　right。　Shavers；　utterly　bald　with　a　luxuriant　black　beard；　wore　pleated　black　dress　slacks；　red…and…black　chequered　suspenders　over　a　grey…and…white　pinstripe　shirt；　and　a　yellow　bow　tie。　His　half…lens　reading　glasses　dangled　from　his　neck　on　a　loop　of　black　ribbon。
　　A　reporter　and　columnist　on　the　business　desk；　Shavers　was　as　pompous　and　as　awkward　at　small　talk　as　he　thought　he　was　charming；　however；　he　was　benign　in　his　self…delusion　and　touching　in　his　mistaken　conviction　that　he　was　a　spellbinding　raconteur。　He　said　without　preamble；　'Joseph；　dear　boy；　opened　a　case　of　'74　Mondavi　Cabernet　last　week；　one　of　twenty　I　bought　as　an　investment　when　it　was　first　released；　even　though　at　the　time　I　was　in　Napa　not　to　scout　the　vintners　but　to　shop　for　an　antique　clock；　and　let　me　tell　you；　this　wine　has　matured　so　well　that…'　He　broke　off；　realizing　that　Joe　had　not　worked　at　the　newspaper　for　the　better　part　of　a　year。　Fumblingly；　he　tried　to　offer　his　condolences　regarding　'that　terrible　thing；　that　awful　thing；　all　those　poor　people；　your　wife　and　the　children。'
　　Aware　that　Randy　Colway's　telephone　was　ringing　again　farther　back　in　the　newsroom；　Joe　interrupted　Shavers；　intending　to　brush　him　off；　but　then　he　said；　'Listen；　Dan；　do　you　know　a　pany　called　Teknologik？'
　　'Do　I　know　them？'　Shavers　wiggled　his　eyebrows。　'Very　amusing；　Joseph。'
　　'You　do　know　them？　What's　the　story；　Dan？　Are　they　a　pretty　large　conglomerate？　I　mean；　are　they　powerful？'
　　'Oh；　very　profitable；　Joseph；　absolutely　uncanny　at　recognizing　cutting　edge　technology　in　start…up　panies　and　then　acquiring　them…or　backing　entrepreneurs　who　need　cash　to　develop　their　ideas。　Generally　medically　related　technology　but　not　always。　Their　top　executives　are　infamous　self…aggrandisers；　think　of　themselves　as　some　kind　of　business　royalty；　but　they　are　no　better　than　us。　They；　too；　answer　to　He　Who　Must　Be　Obeyed。'
　　Confused；　Joe　said；　'He　Who　Must　Be　Obeyed？'
　　As　do　we　all；　as　do　we　all；'　said　Shaver；　smiling　and　nodding；　raising　his　pipe　to　bite　the　stem。
　　Colway's　phone　stopped　ringing。　The　silence　made　Joe　more　nervous　than　the　insistent　trilling　tone　had　done。
　　They　knew　where　he　was。
　　'Got　to　go；'　he　said；　walking　away　as　Shavers　began　to　tell　him　about　the　advantages　of　owning　Teknologik　corporate　bonds。
　　He　proceeded　directly　to　the　nearest　men's　room。　Fortunately；　no　one　else　was　in　the　lavatory；　no　old　acquaintances　to　delay　him。
　　In　one　of　the　stalls；　Joe　tore　Rose's　message　into　small　pieces。　He　flushed　it　down　the　toilet；　as　Demi　had　requested；　waiting　to　confirm　that　every　scrap　vanished；　flushing　a　second　time　to　be　sure　that　nothing　was　caught　in　the　drain。
　　Medsped。　Teknologik。　Corporations　conducting　what　appeared　to　be　a　police　operation。　Their　long　reach；　from　Los　Angeles　to　Manassas；　and　their　unnerving　omniscience；　argued　that　these　were　corporations　with　powerful　connections　beyond　the　business　world；　perhaps　to　the　military。
　　Nevertheless；　regardless　of　the　stakes；　it　made　no　sense　for　a　corporation　to　protect　its　interests　with　hitmen　brazen　enough　to　shoot　at　people　in　public　places…or　anywhere　else；　for　that　matter。　Regardless　of　how　profitable　Teknologik　might　be；　big　black　numbers　at　the　bottom　of　the　balance　sheet　did　not　exempt　corporate　officers　and　executives　from　the　law；　not　even　here　in　Los　Angeles；　where　the　lack　of　money　was　known　to　be　the　root　of　all　evil。
　　Considering　the　impunity　with　which　they　seemed　to　think　they　could　use　guns；　the　men　that　he　had　encountered　must　be　military　personnel　or　federal　agents。　Joe　had　too　little　information　to　allow　him　even　to　conjecture　what　role　Medsped　and　Teknologik　played　in　the　operation。
　　All　the　way　along　the　third…floor　hall　to　the　elevators；　he　expected　someone　to　call　his　name　and　order　him　to　stop。　Perhaps　one　of　the　men　in　the　Hawaiian　shirts。　Or　Wallace　Blick。　Or　a　police　officer。
　　If　the　people　seeking　Rose　Tucker　were　federal　agents；　they　would　be　able　to　obtain　help　from　local　police。　For　the　time　being；　Joe　would　have　to　regard　every　man　in　uniform　as　a　potential　enemy。
　　As　the　elevator　doors　opened；　he　tensed；　half　expecting　to　be　apprehended　here　in　the　alcove。　The　cab　was　empty。
　　On　the　way　down　to　the　first　floor；　he　waited　for　the　power　to　be　cut　off。　When　the　doors　opened　on　the　lower　alcove；　he　was　surprised　to　find　it　deserted。
　　In　all　his　life；　he　had　never　previously　been　in　the　grip　of　paranoia　such　as　this。　He　was　overreacting　to　the　events　of　the　early　afternoon　and　to　what　he　had　learned　since　arriving　at　the　offices　of　the　Post。
　　He　wondered　if　his　exaggerated　reactions…spells　of　extreme　rage；　spiralling　fear…were　a　response　to　the　past　year　of　emotional　deprivation。　He　had　allowed　himself　to　feel　nothing　whatsoever　but　grief；　self…pity；　and　the　terrible　hollowness　of　inprehensible　loss。　In　fact；　he'd　striven　hard　not　to　feel　even　that　much。　He　had　tried　to　shed　his　pain；　to　rise　from　the　ashes　like　a　drab　phoenix　with　no　hope　except　the　cold　peace　of　indifference。　Now　tha