preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第103部分

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　〃Another　question　for　Captain　Custer；　please！　How　does　it　feel；　sir；　to　have　cracked　the　biggest　case　since　Son　of　Sam？〃
　It　was　that　prepped…out　weenie；　Bryce　Harriman。　It　was　the　question　he　had　longed　for　someone　to　ask。　Once　again；　the　man　had　ridden　to　his　rescue。　It　was　beautiful　how　these　things　worked　out。
　Custer　summoned　up　his　most　impassive　monotone：　〃I　was　just　doing　my　duty　as　a　police　officer。　Nothing　less；　and　nothing　more。〃
　Then　he　stood　back　and　basked；　poker…faced；　in　the　endless　flare　of　flashbulbs　that　ensued。
　
　FOURTEEN
　　
　THE　IMAGE　THAT　burst　into　the　beam　of　Nora's　light　was　so　unexpected；　so　horrifying；　that　she　instinctively　scrambled　backward；　dropped　the　scalpel；　and　ran。　Her　only　conscious　desire　was　to　put　some　distance　between　herself　and　the　awful　sight。
　But　at　the　door　she　stopped。　The　man…she　had　to　think　of　him　as　that…was　not　following　her。　In　fact；　he　seemed　to　be　shuffling　along　as　before；　zombie…like；　unaware　of　her　presence。　With　a　shaking　hand　she　trained　the　light　back　on　him。
　The　man's　clothes　hung　from　his　frame　in　tatters；　skin　raked　and　scored　and　bleeding　as　if　by　frenzied　scratching。　The　scalp　was　torn；　skin　hanging　away　in　flaps　from　where　it　had　apparently　been　ripped　from　the　skull。　Tufts　of　bloody　hair　remained　clutched　rigidly　between　the　fingers　of　the　right　hand：　a　hand　whose　epithelial　layers　were　sloughing　away　in　parchment…like　curls　of　tissue。　The　lips　had　swollen　to　a　grotesque　size；　liver…colored　bananas　covered　with　whitish　weals。　A　tongue；　cracked　and　blackened；　forced　its　way　between　them。　A　wet　gargling　came　from　deep　inside　the　throat；　and　each　effort　to　suck　in　or　expel　air　caused　the　tongue　to　quiver。　Through　the　gaps　in　the　ragged　shirt；　Nora　could　see　angry…looking　chancres　on　the　chest　and　abdomen；　weeping　clear　fluid。　Below　the　armpits　were　thick　colonies　of　pustules　like　small　red　berries；　some　of　which　she　saw…with　a　sickening　sense　of　fast…motion　photography…were　swelling　rapidly；　even　as　she　watched；　one　burst　with　a　sickening　pop；　while　more　blistered　and　swelled　to　take　its　place。
　But　what　horrified　Nora　most　were　the　eyes。　One　was　twice　normal　size；　blood…engorged；　protruding　freakishly　from　the　orbital　socket。　It　jittered　and　darted　about；　roving　wildly　but　seeing　nothing。　The　other；　in　contrast；　was　dark　and　shriveled；　motionless；　sunken　deep　beneath　the　brow。
　A　fresh　shudder　of　revulsion　went　through　Nora。　It　must　be　some　pathetic　victim　of　the　Surgeon。　But　what　had　happened　to　him？　What　dreadful　torture　had　he　undergone？
　As　she　watched；　spellbound　with　horror；　the　figure　paused；　and　seemed　to　look　at　her　for　the　first　time。　The　head　tilted　up　and　the　jittery　eye　paused　and　appeared　to　fix　on　her。　She　tensed；　ready　for　flight。　But　the　moment　passed。　The　figure　underwent　a　violent　trembling　from　head　to　toe；　then　the　head　dropped　down；　and　it　once　more　resumed　its　quivering　walk　to　nowhere。
　She　turned　the　light　away　from　the　obscene　spectacle；　feeling　sick。　Worse　even　than　the　loathsome　sight　was　her　sudden　recognition。　It　had　e　to　her　in　a　flash；　when　the　bloated　eye　had　fixed　on　hers：　she　knew　this　man。　As　grotesquely　malformed　as　it　now　was；　she　remembered　seeing　that　distinctive　face　before；　so　powerful；　so　self…confident；　emerging　from　the　back　of　a　limousine　outside　the　Catherine　Street　digsite。
　The　shock　nearly　took　her　breath　away。　She　looked　with　horror　at　the　figure's　retreating　back。　What　had　the　Surgeon　done　to　him？　Was　there　anything　she　could　do　to　help？
　Even　as　the　thought　came　to　her；　she　realized　the　man　was　far　beyond　help。　She　lowered　the　flashlight　from　the　grotesque　form　as　it　shuffled　slowly；　aimlessly　away　from　her；　back　toward　a　room　beyond　the　lab。
　She　thrust　the　light　forward。　And　then；　in　the　edge　of　the　flashlight's　beam；　she　made　out　Pendergast。
　He　was　in　the　next　room；　lying　on　his　side；　blood　pooling　on　the　ground　below　him。　He　looked　dead。　Nearby；　a　large；　rusted　axe　lay　on　the　floor。　Beyond　it　was　an　upended　executioner's　block。
　Suppressing　a　cry；　she　ran　through　the　connecting　archway　and　knelt　before　him。　To　her　surprise；　the　FBI　agent　opened　his　eyes。
　〃What　happened？〃　she　cried。　〃Are　you　all　right？〃
　Pendergast　smiled　weakly。　〃Never　better；　Dr。　Kelly。〃
　She　flashed　her　light　at　the　pool　of　blood；　at　the　crimson　stain　that　covered　his　shirtfront。　〃You're　been　hurt！〃
　Pendergast　looked　at　her；　his　pale　eyes　cloudy。　〃Yes。　I'm　afraid　I'll　need　your　help。〃
　〃But　what　happened？　Where's　the　Surgeon？〃
　Pendergast's　eyes　seem　to　clear　a　little。　〃Didn't　you　see　him；　ah；　walk　past？〃
　〃What？　The　man　covered　with　sores？　Fairhaven？　He's　the　killer？〃
　Pendergast　nodded。
　〃Jesus！　What　happened　to　him？〃
　〃Poisoned。〃
　〃How？〃
　〃He　picked　up　several　of　the　objects　in　this　room。　Take　care　not　to　follow　his　example。　Everything　you　see　here　is　an　experimental　poison…delivery　system。　When　he　handled　the　various　weapons；　Fairhaven　absorbed　quite　a　cocktail　of　poisons　through　his　skin：　neurotoxins　and　other　fast…acting　systemics；　no　doubt。〃
　He　grasped　her　hand　with　his　own；　slippery　with　blood。　〃Smithback？〃
　〃Alive。〃
　〃Thank　God　for　that。〃
　〃Leng　had　started　to　operate。〃
　〃I　know。　Is　he　stable？〃
　〃Yes；　but　I　don't　know　for　how　long。　We've　got　to　get　him…and　you…to　a　hospital　right　away。〃
　Pendergast　nodded。　〃There's　an　acquaintance　of　mine；　a　doctor；　who　can　arrange　everything。〃
　〃How　are　we　going　to　get　out　of　here？〃
　Pendergast's　gun　lay　on　the　ground　nearby；　and　he　reached　for　it；　grimacing　a　little。　〃Help　me　up；　please。　I　need　to　get　back　to　the　operating　room；　to　check　on　Smithback　and　stop　my　own　bleeding。〃
　She　helped　the　agent　to　his　feet。　Pendergast　stumbled　a　little；　leaning　heavily　on　her　arm。　〃Shine　your　light　on　our　friend　a　moment；　if　you　please；〃　he　said。
　The　Fairhaven…thing　was　shuffling　along　one　wall　of　the　room。　He　ran　into　a　large　wooden　cabinet；　stopped；　backed　up；　came　forward　again；　as　if　unable　to　negotiate　the　obstacle。　Pendergast　gazed　at　the　thing　for　a　moment；　then　turned　away。
　〃He's　no　longer　a　threat；〃　he　murmured。　〃Let's　get　back　upstairs；　as　quickly　as　possible。〃
　They　retraced　their　steps　back　through　the　chambers　of　the　subbasement；　Pendergast　stopping　periodically　to　rest。　Slowly；　painfully；　they　mounted　the　stairs。
　In　the　operating　room；　Smithback　lay　on　the　table；　still　unconscious。　Nora　scanned　the　monitors　quickly：　the　vitals　remained　weak；　but　steady。　The　liter　bag　of　saline　was　almost　empty；　and　she　replaced　it　with　a　third。　Pendergast　bent　over　the　journalist；　drew　back　the　covers；　and　examined　him。　After　a　few　moments；　he　stepped　back。
　〃He'll　survive；〃　he　said　simply。
　Nora　felt　a　huge　sense　of　relief。
　〃Now　I'm　going　to　need　some　help。　Help　me　get　my　jacket　and　shirt　off。〃
　Nora　untied　the　jacket　around　Pendergast's　midsection；　then　helped　him　remove　his　shirt；　exposing　a　ragged　hole　in　his　abdomen；　thickly　encrusted　in　blood。　More　blood　was　dripping　from　his　shattered　elbow。
　〃Roll　that　tray　of　surgical　instruments　this　way；〃　he　said；　gesturing　with　his　good　hand。
　Nora　rolled　the　tray　over。　She　could　not　help　but　notice　that　his　torso；　although　slender；　was　powerfully　muscled。
　〃Grab　those　clamps　over　there；　too；　please。〃　Pendergast　swabbed　the　blood　away　from　the　abdominal　wound；　then　irrigated　it　with　Betadine。
　〃Don't　you　want　something　for　the　pain？　I　know　there's　some…〃
　〃No　time。〃　Pendergast　dropped　the　bloody　gauze　to　the　floor　and　angled　the　overhead　light　toward　the　wound　in　his　abdomen。　〃I　have　to　tie　off　these　bleeders　before　I　grow　any　weaker。〃
　Nora　watched　him　inspect　the　wound。
　〃Shine　that　light　a　little　lower；　would　you？　There；　that's　good。　Now；　if　you'd　hand　me　that　clamp？〃
　Although　Nora　had　a　strong　stomach；　watching　Pendergast　probe　his　own　abdomen　made　her　feel　distinctly　queasy。　After　a　moment　he　laid　down　the　clamp；　took　up　a　scalpel；　and　made　a　short　cut　perpendicular　to　the　wound。
　〃You're　not　going　to　operate　on　yourself；　are　you？〃
　Pendergast　shook　his　head。　〃Just　a　quick…and…dirty　effort　to　stop　the　bleeding。　But　I've　got　to　reach　this　colic　vein；　which；　with　all　my　exertion；　has　unfortunately　retracted。〃　He　made　another　little　cut；　and