pdouglas.thecodex-第13部分

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　As　the　feeling　of　peace　stole　over　him　he　thought　longingly　of　the　big　swim；　of　floating　away　on　a　sea　of　light。　If　it　came　to　that；　all　it　would　take　would　be　two　dozen　more　of　those　tablets　followed　by　the　rest　of　the　Macallan　and　he'd　be　sinking　forever　into　the　blue　deep。　No　pleading　the　Fifth　before　Congress；　no　claiming　to　be　just　another　poor　misled　inpetent　CEO　before　the　SEC；　none　of　that　Kenneth　Lay　shit。　He'd　be　his　own　judge；　jury；　and　executioner。　His　father；　an　army　sergeant；　had　taught　him　the　value　of　honor。
　The　one　thing　that　could　have　saved　the　firm；　but　had　sunk　it　instead；　was　that　big　breakthrough　drug　they　thought　they　had。　Phloxatane。　With　that　in　hand；　the　bean　counters　figured　it　was　safe　to　start　cutting　long…term　R&D　to　jack　up　current　profits。　They　said　the　analysts　would　never　notice；　and　at　first　they　didn't。　It　worked　like　a　dream；　and　their　stock　price　shot　through　the　roof。　Then　they　started　shifting　current　marketing　costs　to　amortizable　R&D；　and　still　the　analysts　didn't　notice　and　still　the　stock　price　rose。　Then　they　assigned　losses　to　paper…thin；　off…the…books　partnerships　in　the　Cayman　Islands　and　Netherland　Antilles；　booked　loans　as　profits；　and　blew　whatever　cash　was　left　over　to　buy　back　pany　stock　to　innate　the　price　even　more…also　inflating　（naturally）　the　value　of　executive　stock　options。　The　stock　soared；　they　cashed　out；　they　made　millions。　God；　it　had　been　a　heady　game。　They　broke　every　law；　rule；　and　regulation　on　the　books　and　had　a　creative　genius　of　a　CFO　who　invented　new　ones　to　break。　And　all　those　high…flying　stock　pickers…they　turned　out　to　be　about　as　perceptive　as　Br'er　Bear；　he　a…earnin'a　dollah　a　minute。
　Now　they'd　e　to　the　end　of　the　line。　There　were　no　more　rules　to　bend　or　break。　Finally　the　market　woke　up；　the　stock　crashed；　and　they　had　no　more　tricks　up　their　sleeve。　The　carrion　crows　were　circling　above　the　Lampe　Building　at　725　Avenue　of　the　Americas；　cawing　his　name。
　A　shaking　hand　slipped　the　key　into　the　lock；　the　drawer　slid　open。　Skiba　chewed　up　another　bitter　pill；　took　a　second　slug　of　scotch。
　There　came　a　buzz；　announcing　Graff。
　Graff；　the　CFO　genius　who　had　gotten　them　to　this　point。
　Skiba　took　a　swig　of　Evian；　swilled　it　around；　swallowed；　took　another　swig；　and　a　third。　He　swept　his　hand　over　his　hair；　leaned　back　in　the　chair；　and　posed　his　face。　He　was　already　feeling　that　creeping　lightness　of　being　that　started　in　his　chest　and　moved　outward　to　his　fingertips；　buoying　him　up；　filling　him　with　a　golden　glow。
　He　swiveled　his　chair；　his　eyes　falling　briefly　on　the　photographs　of　his　three　bright　little　children　smiling　from　their　silver　frames。　Then　his　eye　reluctantly　traveled　from　the　desk　to　rest　on　the　face　of　Mike　Graff；　who　had　just　entered　the　room。　The　man　stood　before　Skiba；　oddly　delicate；　encased　from　head　to　toe　in　impeccable　worsted　wool；　silk；　and　cotton。　Graff　had　been　Lampe's　rising　young　protégé；　profiled　in　Forbes；　courted　by　analysts　and　investment　bankers；　his　wine　cellar　featured　in　Bon　Appétit　and　his　house　in　Architectural　Digest。　Now　his　protégé　was　no　longer　rising：　He　was　holding　hands　with　Skiba　as　they　swan…dived　off　the　edge　of　the　Grand　Canyon。
　〃What　is　it；　Mike；　that　was　so　important　it　couldn't　wait　until　our　afternoon　meeting？〃　Skiba　spoke　pleasantly。
　〃I've　got　a　fellow　outside　you　need　to　meet。　He's　got　an　interesting　proposition　for　us。〃
　Skiba　closed　his　eyes。　He　suddenly　felt　tired　almost　unto　death。　All　the　good　feeling　was　gone。　〃Don't　you　think　we've　had　enough　of　your　'propositions；'　Mike？〃
　〃This　one's　different。　Trust　me。〃
　Trust　me；　Skiba　waved　his　hand　in　a　gesture　of　futility。　He　heard　the　door　open　and　looked　up。　There；　standing　in　front　of　him；　was　a　cheap　hustler　in　a　wide…lapel　suit　wearing　too　much　gold。　He　was　one　of　those　types　who　bed　five　hairs　across　half　a　continent　of　bald　skull　and　thought　that　solved　the　problem。
　〃Jesus　Christ；　Graff…〃
　〃Lewis；〃　said　Graff；　forging　ahead；　〃this　is　Mr。　Marcus　Hauser；　a　private　investigator　formerly　with　the　Bureau　of　Alcohol；　Tobacco；　and　Firearms。　He　has　something　he　wants　to　show　us。〃　Graff　took　a　piece　of　paper　from　Hauser's　hands　and　passed　it　to　Skiba。
　Skiba　stared　down　at　the　page。　It　was　covered　with　strange　symbols；　the　margins　drawn　with　curling　vines　and　leaves。　This　was　insane。　Graff　was　cracking　up。
　Graff　pushed　on。　〃That's　a　page　from　a　ninth…century　Mayan　manuscript。　It's　called　a　codex。　It's　a　two…thousand…page　catalog　of　rainforest　drugs；　how　to　extract　them　and　use　them。〃
　Skiba　felt　a　sensation　of　heat　on　his　skin　as　the　import　sank　in。　It　simply　could　not　be　true。
　〃That's　right。　Thousands　of　indigenous　pharmaceutical　prescriptions　identifying　medically　active　substances　found　in　plants；　animals；　insects；　spiders；　molds；　fungi…you　name　it。　The　medical　wisdom　of　the　ancient　Maya　in　a　single　volume。〃
　Skiba　looked　up；　first　at　Graff；　then　at　Hauser。　〃Where'd　you　get　this？〃
　Hauser　stood　with　his　plump　hands　folded　in　front　of　him。　Skiba　was　sure　he　smelled　some　kind　of　aftershave　or　cologne。　Cheap。
　〃It　belonged　to　an　old　friend　of　mine；〃　said　Hauser。　His　voice　was　high　and　irritating；　with　what　sounded　like　a　Brooklyn　accent。　A　pre…pubescent　Pacino。
　Skiba　said；　〃Mr。　Hauser；　it'll　be　ten　years　and　half　a　billion　in　R&D　before　any　of　these　drugs　e　on…line。〃
　〃True。　But　think　what　it'll　do　to　your　stock　price　now。　As　I　understand　it；　you've　got　a　bargeful　of　shit　drifting　down　your　little　river　here。〃　He　swept　a　plump　hand　in　a　circle；　taking　in　the　room。
　Skiba　stared　at　him。　The　insolent　son　of　a　bitch。　He　should　throw　him　out　now。
　Hauser　went　on。　〃Lampe　stock　opened　this　morning　at　fourteen　and　three…eighths。　Last　December　it　was　trading　at　fifty。　You；　personally；　have　two　million　stock　options　at　a　strike　price　of　between　thirty　and　thirty…five　laddered　out　to　expire　over　the　next　two　years。　All　of　which　are　now　worthless　unless　you　can　get　the　stock　price　back　up。　On　top　of　that；　your　major　new　cancer　drug；　Phloxatane；　is　a　dog　and　is　about　to　be　disapproved　by　the　FDA…〃
　Skiba　rose　from　his　chair；　his　face　red。　〃How　dare　you　speak　these　lies　to　me　like　this；　in　my　office？　Where　are　you　getting　this　false　information？〃
　〃Mr。　Skiba；〃　said　Hauser　mildly；　〃let's　cut　the　bullshit。　I'm　a　private　investigator；　and　this　manuscript　will　be　ing　into　my　possession　in　about　four　to　six　weeks。　I　want　to　sell　it　to　you。　And　I　know　you　need　it。　I　could　just　as　easily　take　it　to　GeneDyne　or　Cambridge　Pharmaceuticals。〃
　Skiba　swallowed　hard。　It　was　amazing　how　fast　clear…headedness　could　return。　〃How　do　I　know　this　isn't　some　kind　of　swindle？〃
　Graff　said；　〃I've　checked　it　out。　It's　as　good　as　gold；　Lewis。〃
　Skiba　stared　at　the　huckster　in　the　tasteless　suit。　He　swallowed　again；　his　mouth　dry。　This　was　how　far　they　had　sunk。　〃Tell　me　your　proposal；　Mr。　Hauser。〃
　Hauser　said；　〃The　Codex　is　in　Honduras。〃
　〃So　you're　selling　a　pig　in　a　poke。〃
　〃To　get　it；　I　need　money；　weapons；　and　equipment。　I'm　running　a　big　personal　risk。　I've　already　had　to　undertake　one　urgent　piece　of　business。　This　isn't　going　to　e　cheap。〃
　〃Don't　hustle　me；　Mr。　Hauser。〃
　〃Who's　the　hustler　here？　You're　up　to　your　neck　in　accounting　irregularities　as　it　is。　If　the　SEC　were　to　hear　about　how　you　and　Mr。　Graff　here　have　been　booking　marketing　costs　as　long…term　amortizable　R&D　these　past　few　quarters；　you'd　both　be　leaving　the　building　in　handcuffs。〃
　Skiba　stared　at　the　man；　and　then　at　Graff。　The　CFO　had　turned　white。　In　the　long　silence；　a　piece　of　wood　popped　in　the　fire。　Skiba　felt　a　muscle　twitching　somewhere　behind　his　left　knee。
　Hauser　went　on：　〃When　I　deliver　the　Codex　to　you　and　you've　authenticated　it；　as　you　will　naturally　insist　on　doing；　you'll　wire　fifty　million　dollars　to　an　offshore　account　of　my　selection。　That's　the　deal　I'm　offering。　No　negotiations…just　a　yes　or　a　no　will　suffice。〃
　〃Fifty　million？　That's　totally　insane。　Forget　it。〃
　Hauser　rose　and　headed　for　the　door。
　〃Wait；〃　Graff　called；　jumping　up。　〃Mr。　Hauser？　None　of　this　is　engraved　in　stone。〃　The　sweat　was　trickling　down　from　his　well…groomed　scalp　as　he　chased　after　the　man　in　the　cheap　suit。
　Hauser　kept　wa