preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第2部分

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ick　new　Kubota　riding　mower。　If　it　was　valuable；　screw　them；　he　was　going　to　pocket　it。
　He　plucked　at　his　collar　buttons；　pulled　his　T…shirt　over　his　nose；　reached　into　the　hole　with　his　flashlight　arm；　then　resolutely　ducked　his　head　and　shoulders　in　after　it　and　got　a　good　look。
　For　a　moment　he　remained　still；　frozen　in　place。　Then　his　head　jerked　back　involuntarily；　slamming　against　the　upper　course　of　bricks。　He　dropped　the　light　into　the　hole　and　staggered　away；　scraping　his　forehead　this　time；　lurching　back　into　the　dark；　his　feet　backing　into　bricks。　He　fell　to　the　floor　with　an　involuntary　cry。
　For　a　moment；　all　was　silent。　The　dust　swirled　upward；　and　far　above　there　was　a　feeble　glow　of　light　from　the　outside　world。　The　stench　swept　over　him。　With　a　gasp　he　staggered　to　his　feet；　heading　for　the　light；　scrambling　up　the　slide　of　bricks；　falling；　his　face　in　the　dirt；　then　up　again　and　scrabbling　with　both　hands。　Suddenly　he　was　out　in　the　clear　light；　tumbling　headfirst　down　the　other　side　of　the　brick　pile；　landing　facedown　with　a　stunning　blow。　He　vaguely　heard　laughter；　which　ceased　as　soon　as　he　rolled　over。　And　then　there　was　a　rush　to　his　side；　hands　picking　him　up；　voices　talking　all　at　once。
　〃Jesus　Christ；　what　happened　to　you？〃
　〃He's　hurt；〃　came　a　voice。　〃He's　all　bloody。〃
　〃Step　back；〃　said　another。
　Boxer　tried　to　catch　his　breath；　tried　to　control　the　hammering　of　his　heart。
　〃Don't　move　him。　Call　an　ambulance。〃
　〃Was　it　a　cave…in？〃
　The　yammering　went　on　and　on。　He　finally　coughed　and　sat　up；　to　a　sudden　hush。
　〃Bones；〃　he　managed　to　say。
　〃Bones？　Whaddya　mean；　bones？〃
　〃He's　not　making　any　sense。〃
　Boxer　felt　his　head　begin　to　clear。　He　looked　around；　feeling　the　hot　blood　running　down　his　face。　〃Skulls；　bones。　Piled　up。　Dozens　of　them。〃
　Then　he　felt　faint　and　lay　down　again；　in　the　bright　sunlight。
　
　TWO
　　
　NORA　KELLY　LOOKED　out　from　the　window　of　her　fourth…floor　office　over　the　copper　rooftops　of　the　New　York　Museum　of　Natural　History；　past　the　cupolas　and　minarets　and　gargoyle…haunted　towers；　across　the　leafy　expanse　of　Central　Park。　Her　eye　came　to　rest　at　last　on　the　distant　buildings　along　Fifth　Avenue：　a　single　wall；　unbroken　and　monolithic；　like　the　bailey　of　some　limitless　castle；　yellow　in　the　autumn　light。　The　beautiful　vista　gave　her　no　pleasure。
　Almost　time　for　the　meeting。　She　began　to　check　a　sudden　swell　of　anger；　then　reconsidered。　She　would　need　that　anger。　For　the　last　eighteen　months；　her　scientific　budget　had　been　frozen。　During　that　time；　she　had　watched　the　number　of　museum　vice　presidents　swell　from　three　to　twelve；　each　pulling　down　two　hundred　grand。　She　had　watched　the　Public　Relations　Department　turn　from　a　sleepy　little　office　of　genial　old　ex…newspaper　reporters　to　a　suite　of　young；　smartly　dressed　flacks　who　knew　nothing　about　archaeology；　or　science。　She　had　seen　the　upper　echelons　at　the　Museum；　once　populated　by　scientists　and　educators；　taken　over　by　lawyers　and　fund…raisers。　Every　ninety…degree　angle　in　the　Museum　had　been　converted　into　the　corner　office　of　some　functionary。　All　the　money　went　to　putting　on　big　fund…raisers　that　raised　more　money　for　yet　more　fund…raisers；　in　an　endless　cycle　of　onanistic　vigor。
　And　yet；　she　told　herself；　it　was　still　the　New　York　Museum：　the　greatest　natural　history　museum　in　the　world。　She　was　lucky　to　have　this　job。　After　the　failure　of　her　most　recent　efforts…the　strange　archaeological　expedition　she'd　led　to　Utah；　and　the　abrupt　termination　of　the　planned　Lloyd　Museum…she　needed　this　job　to　work　out。　This　time；　she　told　herself；　she　would　play　it　cool；　work　within　the　system。
　She　turned　away　from　the　window　and　glanced　around　the　office。　System　or　no　system；　there　was　no　way　she　could　plete　her　research　on　the　Anasazi…Aztec　connection　without　more　money。　Most　importantly；　she　needed　a　careful　series　of　accelerator　mass　spectrometer　C…14　dates　on　the　sixty…six　organics　she　had　brought　back　from　last　summer's　survey　of　southern　Utah。　It　would　cost　18；000；　but　she　had　to　have　those　damn　dates　if　she　was　ever　going　to　plete　her　work。　She　would　ask　for　that　money　now；　let　the　other　stuff　wait。
　It　was　time。　She　rose　and　headed　out　the　door；　up　a　narrow　staircase；　and　into　the　plush　trappings　of　the　Museum's　fifth　floor。　She　paused　outside　the　first　vice　president's　office　to　adjust　her　gray　suit。　That　was　what　these　people　understood　best：　tailored　clothing　and　a　smart　look。　She　arranged　her　face　into　a　pleasantly　neutral　expression　and　poked　her　head　in　the　door。
　The　secretary　had　gone　out　to　lunch。　Boldly；　Nora　walked　through　and　paused　at　the　door　to　the　inner　office；　heart　pounding。　She　had　to　get　the　money：　there　was　no　way　she　could　leave　this　office　without　it。　She　steeled　herself；　smiled；　and　knocked。　The　trick　was　to　be　nice　but　firm。
　〃e　in；〃　said　a　brisk　voice。
　The　corner　office　beyond　was　flooded　with　morning　light。　First　Vice　President　Roger　Brisbane　III　was　sitting　behind　a　gleaming　Bauhaus　desk。　Nora　had　seen　pictures　of　this　space　back　when　it　belonged　to　the　mysterious　Dr。　Frock。　Then　it　had　been　a　real　curator's　office；　dusty　and　messy；　filled　with　fossils　and　books；　old　Victorian　wing　chairs；　Masai　spears；　and　a　stuffed　dugong。　Now；　the　place　looked　like　the　waiting　room　of　an　oral　surgeon。　The　only　sign　that　it　might　be　a　museum　office　was　a　locked　glass　case　sitting　on　Brisbane's　desk；　inside　of　which　reposed　a　number　of　spectacular　gemstones…cut　and　uncut…winking　and　glimmering　in　little　nests　of　velvet。　Museum　scuttlebutt　held　that　Brisbane　had　intended　to　be　a　gemologist；　but　was　forced　into　law　school　by　a　pragmatic　father。　Nora　hoped　it　was　true：　at　least　then　he　might　have　some　understanding　of　science。
　She　tried　to　make　her　smile　as　sincere　as　possible。　Brisbane　looked　sleek　and　self…assured。　His　face　was　as　cool；　smooth；　and　pink　as　the　inside　of　a　conch…exquisitely　shaved；　patted；　groomed；　and　eau…de…cologned。　His　wavy　brown　hair；　thick　and　glossy　with　health；　was　worn　slightly　long。
　〃Dr。　Kelly；〃　said　Brisbane；　exposing　a　rack　of　perfect　orthodontry。　〃Make　yourself　at　home。〃
　Nora　dropped　gingerly　into　a　construction　of　chrome；　leather；　and　wood　that　purported　to　be　a　chair。　It　was　hideously　unfortable　and　squeaked　with　every　movement。
　The　young　VP　threw　himself　back　in　his　chair　with　a　rustle　of　worsted　and　put　his　hands　behind　his　head。　His　shirtsleeves　were　rolled　back　in　perfect　creases；　and　the　knot　of　his　English　silk　tie　formed　an　impeccably　dimpled　triangle。　Was　that；　Nora　thought；　a　bit　of　makeup　on　his　face；　under　and　around　his　eyes；　hiding　a　few　wrinkles？　Good　God；　it　was。　She　looked　away；　realizing　she　was　staring　too　hard。
　〃How　go　things　in　the　rag　and　bone　shop？〃　Brisbane　asked。
　〃Great。　Fine。　There's　just　one　small　thing　I　wanted　to　talk　to　you　about。〃
　〃Good；　good。　I　needed　to　talk　to　you；　too。〃
　〃Mr。　Brisbane；〃　Nora　began　quickly；　〃I…〃
　But　Brisbane　stopped　her　with　a　raised　hand。　〃Nora；　I　know　why　you're　here。　You　need　money。〃
　〃That's　right。〃
　Brisbane　nodded；　sympathetically。　〃You　can't　plete　your　research　with　a　frozen　budget。〃
　〃That's　right；〃　repeated　Nora；　surprised　but　wary。　〃It　was　a　tremendous　coup　to　get　the　Murchison　Grant　to　do　the　Utah　Anasazi　survey；　but　there's　no　way　I　can　finish　the　work　without　a　really　good　series　of　carbon…14　dates。　Good　dates　are　the　foundation　for　everything　else。〃　She　tried　to　keep　her　voice　pleasantly　obedient；　as　if　eager　to　play　the　ingenue。
　Brisbane　nodded　again；　his　eyes　half　closed；　swiveling　slightly　in　his　chair。　Despite　herself；　Nora　began　to　feel　encouraged。　She　hadn't　expected　as　sympathetic　a　reaction。　It　seemed　to　be　working。
　〃How　much　are　we　talking　about？〃　Brisbane　asked。
　〃With　eighteen　thousand　dollars；　I　could　get　all　sixty…six　samples　dated　at　the　University　of　Michigan；　which　has　the　best　mass　spectrometer　laboratory　for　carbon…14　dating　in　the　world。〃
　〃Eighteen　thousand　dollars。　Sixty…six　samples。〃
　〃That's　right。　I'm　not　asking　for　a　permanent　budget　increase；　just　a　one…time　grant。〃
　〃Eighteen　thousand　dollars；〃　Brisbane　repeated　slowly　as　if　considering。　〃When　you　really　think　about　it；　Dr。　Kelly；　it　doesn't　seem　like　much