dk.solesurvivor-第34部分

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ing。　But　it　was　all　here　in　the　meadow　and　scattered　some　distance　into　the　trees　uphill；　west　and　north。　All　here。。。　but　for　the　most　part　there　was　nothing　bigger　than　a　car　door。　All　I　saw　that　I　could　identify　at　first　glance　was　a　portion　of　an　engine　and　a　three…unit　passenger…seat　module。'
　　'Was　this　the　worst　crash　in　your　experience？'　Joe　asked。
　　'Never　seen　one　worse。　Only　two　others　to　equal　it…including　the　Pennsylvania　crash　in　ninety…four；　Hopewell；　USAir　Flight　427；　en　route　to　Pittsburgh。　The　one　I　mentioned　earlier。　I　wasn't　the　IIC　on　that　one；　but　I　saw　it。'
　　'The　bodies　here。　How　were　they　when　you　arrived？'
　　'Joe。。。'
　　'You　said　no　one　could　have　survived。　Why　are　you　so　sure？'
　　'You　don't　want　to　know　the　why。'　When　he　met　her　eyes；　she　looked　away　from　him。　'These　are　images　that　haunt　your　sleep；　Joe。　They　wear　away　a　part　of　your　soul。'
　　'The　bodies？'　he　insisted。
　　With　both　hands；　she　pressed　her　white　hair　back　from　her　face。　She　shook　her　head。　She　put　her　hands　in　her　pockets　again。
　　Joe　drew　a　deep　breath；　exhaled　with　a　shudder；　and　repeated　his　question。　'The　bodies？　I　need　to　know　everything　I　can　learn。　Any　detail　about　this　might　be　helpful。　And　even　if　this　isn't　much　help　。　。　。　it'll　keep　my　anger　high。　Right　now；　Barbara；　I　need　the　anger　to　be　able　to　go　on。'
　　'No　bodies　intact。'
　　'None　at　all？'
　　'None　even　close　to　intact。'
　　'How　many　of　the　three　hundred　and　twenty　were　the　pathologists　finally　able　to　identify　。　。　。　to　find　at　least　a　few　teeth　from；　body　parts；　something；　anything；　to　tell　who　they　were？'
　　Her　voice　was　flat；　studiedly　emotionless；　but　almost　a　whisper。　'I　think　slightly　more　than　a　hundred。'
　　'Broken；　severed；　mangled；'　he　said；　hammering　himself　with　the　hard　words。
　　'Far　worse。　All　that　immense　hurtling　energy　released　in　an　instant。　。　。　you　don't　even　recognize　most　of　the　biological　debris　as　being　human。　The　risk　of　infectious　disease　was　high　from　blood　and　tissue　contamination；　so　we　had　to　pull　out　and　revisit　the　site　only　in　biologically　secure　gear。　Every　piece　of　wreckage　had　to　be　carted　away　and　documented　by　the　structural　specialists；　of　course
　　…　so　to　protect　them　we　had　to　set　up　four　decontamination　stations　out　along　the　gravel　road。　Most　of　the　wreckage　had　to　be　processed　there　before　it　moved　on　to　a　hangar　at　Pueblo　Airport。'
　　Being　brutal　to　prove　to　himself　that　his　anguish　would　never　again　get　the　better　of　his　anger　until　this　quest　was　pleted；　Joe　said；　'It　was　pretty　much　like　putting　them　through　one　of　those　tree…grinding　machines。'
　　'Enough；　Joe。　Knowing　more　details　can't　ever　help　you。'
　　The　meadow　was　so　utterly　soundless　that　it　might　have　been　the　ignition　point　of　all　Creation；　from　which　God's　energies　had　long　ago　flowed　toward　the　farthest　ends　of　the　universe；　leaving　only　a　mute　vacuum。
　　
　　A　few　fat　bees；　enervated　by　the　August　heat　that　was　unable　to　penetrate　Joe's　chill；　forsook　their　usual　darting　urgency　and　travelled　languidly　across　the　meadow　from　wildflower　to　wildflower；　as　though　flying　in　their　sleep　and　acting　out　a　shared　dream　about　collecting　nectar。　He　could　hear　no　buzzing　as　the　torpid　gatherers　went　about　their　work。
　　'And　the　cause；'　he　asked；　'was　hydraulic…control　failure…that　stuff　with　the　rudder；　the　yawing　and　then　the　roll？'
　　'You　really　haven't　read　about　it；　have　you？'
　　'Couldn't。'
　　She　said；　'The　possibility　of　a　bomb；　anomalous　weather；　the　wake　vortex　from　another　aircraft；　and　various　other　factors　were　eliminated　pretty　early。　And　the　structures　group；　twenty…nine　specialists　in　that　division　of　the　investigation　alone；　studied　the　wreckage　in　the　hangar　in　Pueblo　for　eight　months　without　being　able　to　pin　down　a　probable　cause。　They　suspected　lots　of　different　things　at　one　time　or　another。　Malfunctioning　yaw　dampers；　for　one。　Or　an　electronics…bay　door　failure。　Engine　mount　failure　looked　good　to　them　for　a　while。　And　malfunctioning　thrust　reversers。　But　they　eliminated　each　suspicion；　and　no　official　probable　cause　was　found。'
　　'How　unusual　is　that？'
　　'Unusual。　But　sometimes　we　can't　pin　it　down。　Like　Hopewell　in　ninety…four。　And；　in　fact；　another　737　that　went　down　on　its　approach　to　Colorado　Springs　in　ninety…one；　killing　everyone　aboard。　So　it　happens；　we　get　stumped。'
　　Joe　realized　there　had　been　a　disturbing　qualifier　in　what　she　had　said：　no　official　probable　cause。
　　Then　a　second　realization　struck　him：　'You　took　early　retirement　from　the　Safety　Board　about　seven　months　ago。　That's　what　Mario　Oliveri　told　me。'
　　'Mario。　Good　man。　He　headed　the　human…performance　group　in　this　investigation。　But　it's　been　almost　nine　months　since　I　quit。'
　　'If　the　structures　group　was　still　sifting　the　wreckage　eight　months　after　the　crash　。　。　。　then　you　didn't　stay　to　oversee　the　entire　inquiry；　even　though　you　were　the　original　IIC　on　it。'
　　'Bailed　out；'　she　acknowledged。　'When　it　all　turned　sour；　when　evidence　disappeared；　when　I　started　to　make　some　noise　about　it。。。　they　put　the　squeeze　on　me。　At　first　I　tried　to　stay　on；　but　I　just　couldn't　handle　being　part　of　a　fraud。　Couldn't　do　the　right　thing　and　spill　the　beans；　either；　so　I　bailed。　Not　proud　of　it。　But　I've　got　a　hostage　to　fortune；　Joe。'
　　'Hostage　to　fortune。　A　child？'
　　'Denny。　He's　twenty…three　now；　not　a　baby　any　more；　but　if　I　ever　lost　him。。。
　　Joe　knew　too　well　how　she　would　have　finished　that　sentence。　'They　threatened　your　son？'
　　Although　Barbara　stared　into　the　crater　before　her；　she　was　seeing　a　potential　disaster　rather　than　the　aftermath　of　a　real　one；　a　personal　catastrophe　rather　than　one　involving　three　hundred　and　twenty　deaths。
　　'It　happened　two　weeks　after　the　crash；'　she　said。　'I　was　in　San　Francisco；　where　Deiroy　Blane…the　Captain　on　Flight　353…had　lived；　overseeing　a　pretty　intense　investigation　into　his　personal　history；　trying　to　discover　any　signs　of　psychological　problems。'
　　'Finding　anything？'
　　'No。　He　seemed　like　a　rock…solid　guy。　This　was　also　at　the　time　when　I　was　pressing　the　hardest　to　go　public　with　what　had　happened　to　certain　evidence。　I　was　staying　in　a　hotel。　I'm　a　reasonably　sound　sleeper。　At　two…thirty　in　the　morning；　someone　switched　on　my　nightstand　lamp　and　put　a　gun　in　my　face。'
　　
　　After　years　of　waiting　for　Go…Team　calls；　Barbara　had　long　ago　overe　a　tendency　to　shed　sleep　slowly。　She　woke　to　the　click　of　the　lamp　switch　and　the　flood　of　light　as　she　would　have　awakened　to　the　ringing　telephone：　instantly　alert　and　clearheaded。
　　She　might　have　cried　out　at　the　sight　of　the　intruder；　except　that　her　shock　pinched　off　her　voice　and　her　breath。
　　The　gunman；　about　forty；　had　large　sad　eyes；　hound…dog　eyes；　a　nose　bashed　red　by　the　slow　blows　of　two　decades　of　drink；　and　a　sensuous　mouth。　His　thick　lips　never　quite　closed；　as　though　waiting　for　the　next　treat　that　couldn't　be　resisted…cigarette；　whiskey；　pastry；　or　breast。
　　His　voice　was　as　soft　and　sympathetic　as　a　mortician's　but　with　no　unctuousness。　He　indicated　that　the　pistol　was　fitted　with　a　sound　suppressor；　and　he　assured　her　that　if　she　tried　to　call　for　help；　he　would　blow　her　brains　out　with　no　concern　that　anyone　beyond　the　room　would　hear　the　shot。
　　She　tried　to　ask　who　he　was；　what　he　wanted。
　　Hushing　her；　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　her　bed。
　　He　had　nothing　against　her　personally；　he　said；　and　it　would　depress　him　to　have　to　kill　her。　Besides；　if　the　IIC　of　the　probe　of　Flight　353　were　to　be　found　murdered；　inconvenient　questions　might　be　asked。
　　The　sensualist's　bosses；　whoever　they　might　be；　could　not　afford　inconvenient　questions　at　this　time；　on　this　issue。
　　Barbara　realized　that　a　second　man　was　in　the　room。　He　had　been　standing　in　the　corner　near　the　bathroom　door；　on　the　other　side　of　the　bed　from　the　gunman。
　　This　one　was　ten　years　younger　than　the　first。　His　smooth　pink　face　and　choirboy　eyes　gave　him　an　innocent　demeanour　that　was　belied　by　a　disquietingly　eager　smile　that　came　and　went　like　the　flickering　of　a　serpent's　tongue。
　　The　older　man　pulled　the　covers　off　Barbara　and　politely　asked　her　to　get　out　of　bed。　They　had　a　few　t