tc.redrabbit-第125部分

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　　　The　bathroom　was　crowded　in　their　room。　Irina　worked　hard　and　long　to　get　her　face　right。　It　was　easier　for　her　husband；　and　easier　still　for　their　daughter；　for　whom　a　wet　washcloth　across　her　grimacing　face　was　enough。　Then　they　all　got　dressed　in　their　best　clothing。　Oleg　buckled　his　little　girl's　shiny　black　shoes　over　the　white　tights　to　which　she'd　taken　an　immediate　love。　Then　she　put　on　the　red　coat　with　the　black　collar；　and　the　little　Bunny　was　all　ready　for　the　adventures　of　the　evening。　They　took　the　elevator　down　to　the　lobby　and　caught　a　cab　outside。
　　　For　Trent　it　was　a　little　awkward。　Staking　out　the　lobby　ought　to　have　been　difficult；　but　the　hotel　staff　seemed　not　to　notice　him；　and　so　when　the　package　left；　it　was　a　simple　matter　of　walking　out　to　his　car　and　following　their　cab　to　the　concert　hall；　just　a　mile　down　the　street。　Once　there；　he　found　a　parking　place　close　by　and　walked　quickly　to　the　entrance。　Drinks　were　being　served　there；　and　the　Zaitzevs　availed　themselves　of　what　looked　like　Tokaji　before　heading　in。　Their　little　girl　was　as　radiant　as　ever。　Lovely　child；　Trent　thought。　He　hoped　she'd　like　life　in　the　West。　He　watched　them　head　into　the　theater　to　their　seats；　and　then　he　turned　to　go　up　the　stairs　to　his　box。
　　　Ryan　and　Hudson　were　already　there；　sitting　on　the　old　chairs　with　their　velvet　cushions。
　　　〃Andy；　Jack；〃　Trent　said　in　greeting。　〃Sixth　row；　left　side　of　center；　just　on　the　aisle。〃
　　　Then　the　houselights　started　flickering。　The　curtain　drew　back；　the　meandering　tones　of　musicians　tuning　their　various　instruments　trailed　off；　and　the　conductor；　Jozsef　Rozsa；　appeared　from　stage　right。　The　initial　applause　was　little　more　than　polite。　It　was　his　first　concert　in　the　series；　and　he　was　new　to　this　audience。　That　struck　Ryan　as　odd…he　was　a　Hungarian；　a　graduate　of　their　own　Franz　Liszt　Academy。　Why　wasn't　their　greeting　more　enthusiastic？　He　was　a　tall　and　thin　guy　with　black　hair　and　the　face　of　an　aesthete。　He　bowed　politely　to　the　audience　and　turned　back　to　the　orchestra。　His　little　baton　stick…whatever　it　was　called；　Ryan　didn't　know…was　there　on　the　little　stand；　and　when　he　lifted　it；　the　room　went　dead　still；　and　then　his　right　arm　shot　out　to　the　string　section　of　the　Hungarian　State　Railroad　Orchestra　#1。
　　　Ryan　was　not　the　student　of　music　that　his　wife　was；　but　Bach　was　Bach；　and　the　concerto　built　in　majesty　almost　from　the　first　instant。　Music；　like　poetry　or　painting；　Jack　told　himself；　was　a　means　of　munication；　but　he'd　never　quite　figured　out　what　posers　were　trying　to　say。　It　was　easier　with　a　John　Williams　movie　score；　where　the　music　so　perfectly　acpanied　the　action；　but　Bach　hadn't　known　about　moving　pictures；　and　so　he　must　have　been　〃talking　about〃　things　that　his　original　audiences　would　have　recognized。　But　Ryan　wasn't　one　of　those；　and　so　he　just　had　to　appreciate　the　wonderful　harmonies。　It　struck　him　that　the　piano　wasn't　right；　and　only　when　he　looked　did　he　see　that　it　wasn't　a　piano　at　all；　but　rather　an　ancient　harpsichord；　played；　it　seemed；　by　an　equally　ancient　virtuoso　with　flowing　white　hair　and　the　elegant　hands　of。。。　a　surgeon；　Jack　thought。　Jack　did　know　piano　music。　Their　friend　Sissy　Jackson；　a　solo　player　with　the　Washington　Symphony；　said　Cathy　was　too　mechanical　in　her　playing；　but　Ryan　only　noted　that　she　never　missed　a　key…you　could　always　tell…and　to　him　that　was　sufficient。　This　guy；　he　thought；　watching　his　hands　and　catching　the　notes　through　the　wonderful　cacophony；　didn't　miss　a　single　note；　and　every　one；　it　seemed；　was　precisely　as　loud　or　soft　as　the　concert　required；　and　so　precisely　timed　as　to　define　perfection。　The　rest　of　the　orchestra　seemed　about　as　well　practiced　as　the　Marine　Corps　Silent　Drill　Team；　everything　as　precise　as　a　series　of　laser　beams。
　　　The　one　thing　Ryan　couldn't　tell　was　what　the　conductor　was　doing。　Wasn't　the　concerto　written　down？　Wasn't　conducting　just　a　matter　of　making　sure…beforehand…that　everybody　knew　his　part　and　did　it　on　time？　He'd　have　to　ask　Cathy　about　it；　and　she'd　roll　her　eyes　and　remark　that　he　really　was　a　Philistine。　But　Sissy　Jackson　said　that　Cathy　was　a　mechanic　on　the　keyboard；　lacking　in　soul。　So　there；　Lady　Caroline！
　　　The　string　section　was　also　superb；　and　Ryan　wondered　how　the　hell　you　ran　a　bow　along　a　string　and　made　the　exact　noise　you　wanted　to。　Probably　because　they　do　it　for　a　living；　he　told　himself；　and　he　sat　back　to　enjoy　the　music。　It　was　only　then　that　he　watched　Andy　Hudson；　whose　eyes　were　on　the　package。　He　took　the　moment　to　look　that　way　as　well。
　　　The　little　girl　was　squirming；　doing　her　best　to　be　good；　and　maybe　taking　note　of　the　music；　but　it　couldn't　be　as　good　as　a　tape　of　The　Wizard　of　Oz　and　that　couldn't　be　helped。　Still　and　all；　she　was　behaving　well；　the　little　Bunny　sitting　between　Ma　and　Pa　Rabbit。
　　　Mama　Rabbit　was　watching　the　concert　with　rapt　attention。　Papa　Rabbit　was　being　politely　attentive。　Maybe　they　should　call　ahead　to　London　and　get　Irina　a　Walkman；　Jack　thought；　along　with　some　Christopher　Hogwood　tapes。。。　Cathy　seemed　to　like　him　a　lot；　along　with　Nevile　Marriner。
　　　In　any　case；　after　about　twenty　minutes；　they　finished　the　Menuetto；　the　orchestra　went　quiet；　and　when　Conductor　Rozsa　turned　to　face　the　audience。。。
　　　The　concert　hall　went　berserk　with　cheering　and　shouts　of　〃Bravo！〃　Jack　didn't　know　what　he'd　done　differently；　but　evidently　the　Hungarians　did。　Rozsa　bowed　deeply　to　the　audience　and　waited　for　the　noise　to　subside　before　turning　back　and　manding　quiet　again　as　he　raised　his　little　white　stick　to　start　Brandenberg　#2。
　　　This　one　started　with　a　brass　and　strings；　and　Ryan　found　himself　entranced　by　the　individual　musicians　more　than　whatever　the　conductor　had　done　with　them。　How　long　do　you　have　to　study　to　get　that　good？　he　wondered。　Cathy　played　two　or　three　times　a　week　at　home　in　Maryland…their　Chatham　house　wasn't　big　enough　for　a　proper　grand　piano；　rather　to　her　disappointment。　He'd　offered　to　get　an　upright；　but　she'd　declined；　saying　that　it　just　wasn't　the　same。　Sissy　Jackson　said　that　she　played　three　hours　or　more　every　single　day。　But　Sissy　did　it　for　a　living；　while　Cathy　had　another　and　somewhat　more　immediate　passion　in　her　professional　life。
　　　The　second　Brandenberg　concerto　was　shorter　than　the　first；　ending　in　about　twelve　minutes；　and　the　third　followed　at　once。　Bach　must　have　loved　the　violins　more　than　any　other　instrument；　and　the　local　string　section　was　pretty　good。　In　any　other　setting　Jack　might　have　given　himself　over　to　the　moment　and　just　drunk　in　the　music；　but　he　did　have　something　more　important　planned　for　this　evening。　Every　few　seconds；　his　eyes　drifted　left　to　see　the　Rabbit　family。。。
　　　BRANDENBERG　#3　ended　roughly　an　hour　after　#1　had　begun。　The　house…lights　came　on；　and　it　was　time　for　the　intermission。　Ryan　watched　Papa　Rabbit　and　Mrs。　Rabbit　leave　their　seats。　The　reason　was　plain。　The　Bunny　needed　a　trip　to　the　little　girls'　room；　and　probably　Papa　would　avail　himself　of　the　local　plumbing　as　well。　Hudson　saw　that　and　leapt　to　his　feet；　back　out　of　the　box；　into　the　private　corridor；　closely　followed　by　Tom　Trent；　and　down　the　steps　to　the　lobby　and　into　the　men's　room；　while　Ryan　stayed　in　the　box　and　tried　to　relax。　The　mission　was　now　fully　under　way。
　　　Not　fifty　yards　away；　Oleg　Ivan'ch　was　standing　in　the　line　to　use　the　men's　room。　Hudson　managed　to　get　right　behind　him。　The　lobby　was　filled　with　the　usual　buzz　of　small　talk。　Some　people　went　to　the　portable　bar　for　more　drinks。　Others　were　puffing　on　cigarettes；　while　twenty　men　or　so　were　waiting　to　relieve　their　bladders。　The　line　moved　fairly　rapidly…men　are　more　efficient　at　this　than　women　are…and　soon　they　were　in　the　tiled　room。
　　　The　urinals　were　as　elegant　as　everything　else；　seemingly　carved　from　Carerra　marble　for　this　noble　purpose。　Hudson　stood　like　everyone　else；　hoping　that　his　clothing　did　not　mark　him　as　a　foreigner。　Just　inside　the　wood…and…glass　door；　he　took　a　breath　and；　leaning　forward；　called　on　his　Russian。
　　　〃Good　evening；　Oleg　Ivanovich；〃　Hudson　said　quietly。　〃Do　not　turn　around。〃
　　　〃Who　are　you？〃　Zaitzev　whispered　back。
　　　〃I　am　your　travel　agent。　I　understa