pdouglas.thecodex-第36部分

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　〃I'm　sorry；　I　don't　mean　to　pry〃
　〃It's　good　to　talk　about　it。　At　least　that's　what　my　analyst　says。〃
　Tom　was　unsure　whether　to　treat　this　as　a　joke　or　not　but　decided　to　play　it　safe。　Most　people　in　New　Haven　probably　went　to　analysts。　〃I　figured　your　father　would　have　owned　the　ranch。〃
　〃You　thought　I　was　a　little　rich　girl？〃
　Tom　colored。　〃Well；　I　did　assume　something　like　that。　After　all；　here　you　are　a　Yalie；　and　with　your　riding　ability　。。。〃　He　thought　of　Sarah。　He'd　had　enough　of　rich　girls　to　last　him　the　rest　of　his　life；　and　he'd　just　assumed　she　was　another。
　Sally　laughed；　but　it　was　a　bitter　laugh。　〃I've　had　to　fight　for　every　little　thing　I　have。　And　that　includes　Yale。〃
　Tom　felt　his　color　deepening。　He　had　been　reckless　in　his　assumptions。　She　wasn't　like　Sarah　at　all。
　〃Despite　his　shortings；〃　Sally　continued；　〃my　father　was　a　wonderful　dad。　He　taught　me　how　to　ride　and　shoot；　how　to　head；　heel；　and　cut　cattle。　After　he　died　my　mother　moved　us　to　Boston；　where　she　had　a　sister。　She　waited　on　tables　at　Red　Lobster　to　support　me。　I　went　to　Framingham　State　College　because　it　was　the　only　place　I　could　get　into　after　a　pretty　miserable　public　high　school　education。　My　mother　died　while　I　was　in　college。　Aneurism。　It　was　very　sudden。　For　me；　it　was　like　the　end　of　the　world。　And　then　finally　something　good　happened。　I　had　an　anthropology　teacher　who　helped　me　discover　that　learning　was　fun　and　that　I　was　not　just　a　dumb　blond。　She　believed　in　me。　She　wanted　me　to　bee　a　doctor。　I　was　pre…med；　but　then　I　got　interested　in　pharmaceutical　biology；　and　from　there　I　went　into　ethnopharmacology。　I　busted　my　ass　and　got　into　Yale　Graduate　School。　And　at　Yale　I　met　Julian。　I'll　never　forget　when　I　first　saw　him。　It　was　at　the　faculty　sherry　party　and　he　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　telling　a　story。　Julian　tells　wonderful　stories。　I　just　joined　the　crowd　and　listened。　He　was　talking　about　his　first　trip　to　Copán。　He　looked　so　。。。　dashing。　Just　like　one　of　those　old…time　explorers。〃
　〃Right；〃　said　Tom。　〃Sure。〃
　〃So　what　about　your　childhood？〃　Sally　asked。　〃What　was　it　like？〃
　〃I'd　prefer　not　to　talk　about　it。〃
　〃No　fair；　Tom。〃
　Tom　sighed。　〃I　had　a　very　boring　childhood。〃
　〃I　doubt　it。〃
　〃Where　should　I　begin？　We　were　to　the　manor　born；　so　to　speak。　Giant　house；　pool；　cook；　gardener；　live…in　housekeeper；　stables；　a　thousand　acres　of　land。　Father　lavished　us　with　everything。　He　had　big　plans　for　us。　He　had　a　shelf　of　books　on　child　rearing；　and　he　read　every　one。　Start　with　high　expectations；　they　all　said。　When　we　were　babies　he　played　Bach　and　Mozart　and　filled　our　rooms　with　reproductions　of　Old　Master　paintings。　When　we　were　learning　to　read　he　covered　the　house　with　labels　for　every　little　thing。　The　first　thing　I　saw　when　I　got　up　in　the　morning　was　toothbrush；　faucet；　mirror…labels　staring　at　me　from　every　corner　of　the　room。　At　seven　we　each　had　to　choose　a　musical　instrument。　I　wanted　to　play　the　drums；　but　Father　insisted　on　something　classical；　so　I　studied　the　piano。　〃Country　Gardens〃　once　a　week　with　a　shrill　Miss　Greer。　Vernon　studied　the　oboe；　and　Philip　had　to　do　the　violin。　On　Sundays；　instead　of　going　to　church…Father　was　a　resolute　atheist…we　dressed　up　and　played　him　a　concert。〃
　〃Oh　God。〃
　〃Oh　God　is　right。　It　was　the　same　thing　with　sports。　We　each　had　to　choose　a　sport。　Not　for　fun　or　exercise　you　understand；　but　to　excel　in。　We　were　sent　to　the　best　private　schools。　Every　minute　of　the　day　was　scheduled：　horseback…riding　lessons；　tutors；　private　sports　coaches；　soccer；　tennis　camp；　puter　camp；　Christmas　ski　trips　to　Taos　and　Cortina　d'Ampezzo。〃
　〃How　awful。　And　your　mother；　what　was　she　like？〃
　〃Our　three　mothers。　We're　half…brothers。　Father　was　unlucky　in　love；　you　might　say。〃
　〃He　got　custody　of　all　three　of　you？〃
　〃What　Max　wanted；　Max　got。　They　weren't　pretty　divorces。　Our　mothers　weren't　a　big　part　of　our　lives；　and　mine　died　when　I　was　young　anyway。　Father　wanted　to　raise　us　by　himself。　He　didn't　want　any　interference。　He　was　going　to　create　three　geniuses　who　would　change　the　world。　He　tried　to　choose　our　careers　for　us。　Even　our　girlfriends。〃
　〃I'm　sorry。　What　a　horrifying　childhood。〃
　Tom　shifted　in　his　hammock；　slightly　annoyed　at　her　ment。　〃I　wouldn't　call　Cortina　at　Christmas　'horrifying。'　We　did　get　something　out　of　it　in　the　end。　I　learned　to　love　horses。　Philip　fell　in　love　with　Renaissance　painting。　And　Vernon…well；　he　just　kind　of　fell　in　love　with　wandering。〃
　〃So　he　chose　your　girlfriends？〃
　Tom　really　wished　he　hadn't　mentioned　that　particular　detail。　〃He　tried。〃
　〃And？〃
　Tom　felt　his　face　flushing。　He　couldn't　stop　it。　The　thought　of　Sarah…perfect；　beautiful；　brilliant；　talented；　wealthy　Sarah…came　flooding　in。
　〃Who　was　she？〃　Sally　asked。
　Women　always　seemed　to　know。　〃Just　some　girl　my　father　introduced　me　to。　Daughter　of　a　friend　of　his。　It　was；　ironically；　the　one　time　I　really　wanted　to　do　what　my　father　wanted　me　to　do。　I　went　out　with　her。　We　got　engaged。〃
　〃What　happened？〃
　He　looked　at　her　closely。　She　seemed　more　than　curious。　He　wondered　just　what　that　meant。　〃Didn't　work　out。〃　He　didn't　add　the　part　about　him　finding　her　riding　some　other　guy　in　their　own　bed。　What　Sarah　wanted；　Sarah　got；　too。　Life　is　too　short；　she　said；　and　I　want　to　experience　all　of　it。　What's　wrong　with　that？　She　could　deny　herself　nothing。
　Sally　was　still　looking　at　him　curiously。　Then　she　shook　her　head。　〃Your　father　was　really　a　piece　of　work。　He　could　have　written　a　book　on　how　not　to　raise　children。〃
　Tom　felt　the　prickle　of　annoyance　grow。　He　knew　he　shouldn't　say　it；　he　knew　it　would　cause　trouble；　but　he　couldn't　stop　himself。　He　said；　〃Father　would've　loved　Julian。〃
　There　was　a　sudden　silence。　He　could　feel　Sally　staring　at　him。　〃Excuse　me？〃
　Tom　went　on　against　his　better　judgment。　〃All　I　meant　is　that　Julian's　just　the　kind　of　person　Father　wanted　us　to　be。　Stanford　at　sixteen；　famous　professor　at　Yale；　'a　genius　in　the　real　sense　of　the　word；'　as　you　put　it。〃
　〃I　won't　dignify　that　ment　with　an　answer；〃　she　said　stiffly；　her　face　coloring　with　anger　as　she　picked　up　her　novel　and　began　to　read。
　
　31
　
　Philip　was　shackled　to　a　tree；　his　hands　manacled　behind　him。　The　blackflies　were　crawling　over　every　square　inch　of　exposed　skin　on　his　body；　thousands　of　them；　eating　his　face　alive。　There　was　nothing　he　could　do　as　they　crawled　into　his　eyes；　up　his　nose；　into　his　ear　canal。　He　shook　his　head；　he　tried　to　blink　and　twitch　them　off；　but　all　efforts　failed。　His　eyes　were　almost　swollen　shut　already。　Hauser　was　talking　to　someone　in　a　low　voice　on　his　satellite　phone。　Philip　couldn't　hear　the　words；　but　he　knew　well　that　quiet；　bullying　tone　of　voice。　He　closed　his　eyes。　He　really　was　beyond　caring。　All　he　wanted　now　was　for　Hauser　to　end　his　misery　soon…a　quick　bullet　to　the　brain。
　
　Lewis　Skiba　sat　at　his　desk；　his　chair　turned　toward　the　window；　staring　southward　over　the　peaks　of　the　Manhattan　skyline。　He　had　not　heard　from　Hauser　in　four　days。　Five　days　ago　Hauser　had　said　to　sleep　on　it。　Then　silence。　They　had　been　the　worst　five　days　of　his　life。　The　stock　was　down　to　six；　the　SEC　had　delivered　subpoenas　and　seized　laptops　and　hard　drives　from　their　corporate　headquarters。　The　bastards　had　even　taken　his　own　puter。　The　short…selling　frenzy　continued　unabated。　The　Journal　had　now　made　it　official　that　the　FDA　was　set　to　disapprove　Phloxatane。　Standard　&　Poor's　was　about　to　downgrade　Lampe's　bonds　to　junk　status；　and　for　the　first　time　there　was　public　speculation　of　Chapter　11。
　That　morning　he'd　had　to　tell　his　wife　that；　under　the　circumstances；　they　had　to　put　the　Aspen　house　on　the　market　immediately。　It　was；　after　all；　their　fourth　house；　and　they　only　used　it　one　week　out　of　the　year。　But　she　hadn't　understood。　She　wept　and　carried　on　and　ended　up　sleeping　in　the　guest　room。　Oh　God；　was　this　how　it　was　going　to　be？　What　would　happen　if　they　had　to　sell　their　real　home？　What　would　she　do　if　they　had　to　pull　their　kids　out　of　private　school？
　And　all　this　time　he　hadn't　heard　from　Hauser。　What　the　hell　was　he　doing？　Had　something　happened　to　him？　Had　he　given　up？　Skiba　felt　the　swea