pdouglas.thecodex-第38部分

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　Don　Alfonso　chucked　a　piece　of　wood　into　the　fire。　Tom　watched　as　it　smoked　and　then　caught　fire；　the　flames　eating　up　its　sides。　The　White　City。
　〃There　aren't　any　lost　cities　in　this　day　and　age；〃　said　Tom。
　〃That's　where　you're　wrong；〃　said　Sally。　〃There　are　dozens；　maybe　even　hundreds　of　them；　in　places　like　Cambodia；　Burma；　the　Gobi　Desert…and　especially　here；　in　Central　America。　Like　Site　Q。〃
　〃Site　Q？〃
　〃The　loot　has　been　pouring　out　of　Site　Q　for　thirty　years　now　and　it's　driving　the　archaeologists　crazy。　They　know　it　must　be　a　great　Mayan　city；　probably　somewhere　in　the　Guatemalan　lowlands；　but　they　can't　find　it。　Meanwhile　the　looters　are　taking　it　apart　stone　by　stone　and　selling　it　off　on　the　black　market。〃
　〃Father　hung　out　in　bars；〃　Vernon　said；　〃buying　rounds　for　Indians；　loggers；　and　gold　prospectors；　listening　for　gossip　about　ruins　and　lost　cities。　He　even　learned　some　Indian　language。　Remember；　Tom；　how　he　used　to　launch　into　it　at　dinner　parties？〃
　〃I　always　thought　he　was　just　making　it　up。〃
　〃Look；〃　said　Vernon；　〃think　about　it　for　a　moment。　Father　wouldn't　build　a　tomb　from　scratch　to　bury　himself　in。　He'd　simply　reuse　one　of　the　tombs　he　robbed　long　ago。〃
　Nobody　said　anything　for　a　moment；　and　then　Tom　said；　〃Vernon；　that's　brilliant。〃
　〃And　he　got　the　local　Indians　to　help　him。〃
　The　fire　crackled。　There　was　a　dead　silence。
　〃But　Father　never　mentioned　anything　about　a　White　City；〃　Tom　said。
　Vernon　smiled。　〃Exactly。　You　know　why　he　never　mentioned　it？　Because　that's　where　he　made　his　big　discovery；　the　one　that　got　him　started。　He　came　down　here　dead　broke；　and　he　came　back　with　a　boatload　of　treasure　and　started　his　gallery　business。〃
　〃It　makes　sense。〃
　〃You're　damn　right　it　makes　sense。　I　bet　you　anything　that's　where　he　went　back　to　be　buried！　It's　a　perfect　plan。　There　must　be　any　number　of　ready…built　tombs　in　this　so…called　White　City。　Father　knew　where　they　were　because　he　had　robbed　them　himself。　All　he　had　to　do　was　go　back　and　install　himself　in　one　of　them；　with　the　help　of　the　local　Indians。　This　White　City　is　real；　Tom。〃
　〃I'm　convinced；〃　said　Sally。
　〃I　even　know　how　Father　bought　the　Indians'　help；〃　Vernon　said；　with　a　growing　smile。
　〃How？〃
　〃Remember　those　receipts　that　the　Santa　Fe　policeman　found　in　Father's　house　for　all　that　fine　French　and　German　cookware　that　Father　ordered　just　before　he　left？　That's　how　he　paid　them：　cooking　pots　for　the　natives。〃
　Don　Alfonso　cleared　his　throat　loudly　and　ostentatiously。　When　he　had　their　attention；　he　said；　〃All　this　talk　is　silly。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Because　no　one　can　go　to　the　White　City。　Your　Father　never　could　have　found　it。　Even　if　he　did；　it　is　inhabited　by　demons　who　would　kill　him　and　steal　his　soul。　There　are　winds　that　would　drive　him　back；　there　are　mists　that　confuse　the　eyes　and　the　mind；　there　is　a　spring　of　water　that　erases　the　memory。〃　He　shook　his　head　vigorously。　〃No；　this　is　impossible。〃
　〃Which　river　do　you　take　to　get　there？〃
　Don　Alfonso　furrowed　his　brow。　His　big　eyes　behind　the　dirty　lenses　of　his　glasses　looked　very　unhappy。　〃Why　do　you　want　to　know　this　useless　information？　I　am　telling　you　it　is　impossible。〃
　〃It's　not　impossible；　and　that's　where　we're　going。〃
　Don　Alfonso　spent　a　long　minute　staring　at　Tom。　Then　he　sighed　and　said；　〃The　Macaturi　will　take　you　partway；　but　you　cannot　go　father　than　the　Falls。　The　Sierra　Azul　lies　many　days　beyond　the　Falls；　beyond　the　mountains　and　valleys　and　more　mountains。　It　is　an　impossible　journey。　Your　father　could　not　have　done　it。〃
　〃Don　Alfonso；　you　don't　know　our　father。〃
　Don　Alfonso　filled　his　pipe；　his　troubled　eyes　on　the　fire。　He　was　sweating。　His　hand　holding　the　pipe　was　shaking。
　〃Tomorrow；〃　Tom　said；　〃we're　going　up　the　Macaturi；　and　we're　heading　for　the　Sierra　Azul。〃
　Don　Alfonso　stared　into　the　fire。
　〃Are　you　ing　with　us；　Don　Alfonso？〃
　〃It　is　my　fate　to　e　with　you；　Tomás；〃　he　said　softly。　〃Of　course；　we　will　all　die　before　we　reach　the　Sierra　Azul。　I　am　an　old　man；　and　I　am　ready　to　die　and　meet　St。　Peter。　But　it　will　be　sad　for　me　to　see　Chori　and　Pingo　die；　and　Vernon　die；　and　to　see　the　Curandera　die；　who　is　so　pretty　with　many　fine　years　of　lovemaking　ahead　of　her。　And　it　will　be　very　sad　for　me　to　see　you　die；　Tomás；　because　you　are　now　my　friend。〃
　
　33
　
　Tom　could　not　sleep　for　thinking　about　the　White　City。　Vernon　was　right。　It　all　fit　so　perfectly。　It　was　so　obvious　Tom　wondered　why　he　hadn't　figured　it　out　before。
　While　he　tossed　and　turned；　Bugger　squeaked　irritably；　then　finally　climbed　up　the　hammock　pole　and　slept　in　the　rafters　over　Tom's　head。　About　four　o'clock　in　the　morning；　Tom　gave　up。　He　rose　from　his　hammock；　built　a　fire　in　the　ashes　of　the　old；　and　put　a　pot　on　to　boil。　Bugger　came　down；　still　annoyed；　climbed　into　his　pocket；　and　tilted　his　head　up　to　get　scratched　under　the　chin。　Don　Alfonso　soon　made　an　appearance；　sitting　down　and　accepting　a　cup　of　coffee。　They　sat　in　the　jungle　darkness　for　a　long　time　without　speaking。
　〃There's　something　I've　been　wondering；〃　Tom　said。　〃When　we　left　Pito　Solo；　you　talked　as　if　you'd　never　be　ing　back。　Why　was　that？〃
　Don　Alfonso　sipped　his　coffee；　his　glasses　reflecting　the　flickering　glow　of　the　fire。　〃Tomasito；　when　the　time　es；　you　will　learn　the　answer　to　this　question　and　many　others。〃
　〃Why　did　you　e　on　this　trip？〃
　〃It　was　prophesied。〃
　〃That's　not　a　good　reason。〃
　Don　Alfonso　turned　his　face　to　Tom。　〃Destiny　is　not　a　reason。　It's　an　explanation。　We　will　speak　no　more　of　this。〃
　*　*　*
　The　Macaturi　was　the　broadest　of　the　five　rivers　flowing　into　the　Laguna　Negra。　It　was　a　more　navigable　river　than　the　Patuca；　deep　and　clean；　without　sandbars　or　hidden　snags。　As　they　motored　up　the　river　the　sun　broke　over　the　distant　hills；　tingeing　them　a　greenish　gold。　Don　Alfonso　had　taken　his　usual　throne　on　top　of　the　heap　of　supplies；　but　his　mood　was　different。　No　longer　did　he　offer　philosophical　reflections　on　life；　talk　about　sex；　plain　about　his　ungrateful　sons；　or　call　out　the　names　of　the　birds　and　animals。　He　just　sat　and　smoked　and　gazed　ahead　with　troubled　eyes。
　The　two　boats　continued　upriver　in　silence　for　several　hours。　As　they　rounded　a　bend；　a　large　tree　appeared；　lying　across　the　river；　blocking　their　way。　It　had　recently　fallen；　and　the　leaves　were　still　green。
　〃This　is　strange；〃　muttered　Don　Alfonso。　He　called　out　to　Chori；　and　they　slowed　their　boat　to　let　Pingo's　boat；　which　was　behind　them；　catch　up　and　pass。　Vernon　was　amidships；　leaning　back　against　the　gunwale；　taking　in　the　sun。　He　waved　as　they　went　by。
　Pingo　angled　the　dugout　toward　the　far　side　of　the　river；　where　the　fallen　tree　was　thinnest　and　therefore　easiest　to　chop　through。
　Suddenly　Don　Alfonso　dove　for　the　tiller　and　shoved　it　all　the　way　to　the　right。　Their　dugout　swerved　and　heeled　almost　to　the　point　of　capsizing。　〃Get　down！〃　he　screamed。　〃Down！〃
　At　the　same　instant　a　burst　of　automatic…weapons　fire　rang　out　of　the　forest。
　Tom　threw　himself　on　Sally　and　slammed　her　to　the　bottom　of　the　boat　as　a　line　of　bullets　ripped　through　the　side　of　the　dugout；　showering　them　with　splinters。　He　could　hear　the　bullets　slapping　the　water　around　them　and　the　shouts　of　the　attackers。　He　twisted　his　head　and　saw　Don　Alfonso　crouching　in　the　stern；　one　hand　still　on　the　handle　of　the　motor；　steering　them　toward　the　shelter　of　an　overhanging　embankment。
　An　unearthly　scream　rose　up　from　the　boat　behind　them。　Somebody　had　been　hit。
　Tom　lay　on　top　of　Sally。　He　could　see　nothing　but　the　mass　of　her　blond　hair　and　the　scarred　wooden　hull　beneath　them。　The　screaming　continued　in　the　other　boat…an　inhuman　wail　of　terror　and　pain。　Tom　thought；　It's　Vernon。　Vernon's　been　shot。　The　firing　continued；　but　now　the　bullets　seemed　to　be　passing　above　their　heads。　The　boat　scraped　the　bottom；　scraped　again；　the　propeller　grinding　on　rocks　in　the　shallows。
　The　firing　and　the　screaming　stopped　at　the　same　time。　They　had　reached　the　cover　of　the　embankment。
　Don　Alfonso　scrambled　back　to　his　feet　and　looked　behind。　Tom　could　hear　him　shouting　in　Tawahka；　but　there　was　no　answer。
　Tom　rose　cautiously；　lifting　Sally。　There　were　flecks