preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第54部分

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e　floor　bricks　were　neatly　piled　against　the　far　wall。　The　door　leading　to　the　kitchen　was　open；　and　through　it　a　large　pile　of　brown　dirt　was　visible；　piled　in　the　center　of　the　room　atop　a　sheet　of　heavy　plastic。　Beside　it　was　a　smaller　sheet　of　plastic；　containing　bagged　items　recovered　from　the　digsite。
　At　last　Nora　paused；　putting　her　trowel　aside　to　take　stock。　She　removed　her　safety　helmet；　drew　the　back　of　her　hand　across　her　brow；　replaced　the　helmet　on　her　head。　It　was　well　past　midnight；　and　she　felt　exhausted。　The　excavation　at　its　deepest　point　had　gone　down　more　than　four　feet　below　grade：　a　lot　of　work。　It　was　difficult；　also；　to　work　this　rapidly　while　maintaining　a　professional　excavation。
　She　turned　to　O'Shaughnessy。　〃Take　five。　I'd　like　to　examine　this　soil　profile。〃
　〃About　time。〃　He　straightened　up；　resting　on　his　shovel。　His　brow　was　streaming　with　sweat。
　Nora　shone　her　flashlight　along　the　carefully　exposed　wall　of　dirt；　reading　it　as　one　might　read　a　book。　Occasionally　she　would　shave　off　a　little　with　a　trowel　to　get　a　clearer　view。
　There　was　a　layer　of　clean　fill　on　the　top　going　down　six　inches…laid；　no　doubt；　as　a　base　for　the　more　recent　brick　floor。　Below　was　about　three　feet　of　coarser　fill；　laced　with　bits　of　post…1910　crockery　and　china。　But　she　could　see　nothing　from　Leng's　laboratory…at　least；　nothing　obvious。　Still；　she　had　flagged　and　bagged　everything；　by　the　book。
　Beneath　the　coarse　fell；　they　had　struck　a　layer　containing　bits　of　trash；　rotting　weeds；　pieces　of　mold…blown　bottles；　soup　bones；　and　the　skeleton　of　a　dog：　ground　debris　from　the　days　when　the　site　had　been　a　vacant　lot。　Under　that　was　a　layer　of　bricks。
　O'Shaughnessy　stretched；　rubbed　his　back。　〃Why　do　we　have　to　dig　so　far　down？〃
　〃In　most　old　cities；　the　ground　level　rises　at　a　fixed　rate　over　time：　in　New　York　it's　about　three　quarters　of　a　meter　every　hundred　years。〃　She　pointed　toward　the　bottom　of　the　hole。　〃Back　then；　that　was　ground　level。〃
　〃So　these　old　bricks　below　are　the　original　basement　flooring？〃
　〃I　think　so。　The　floor　of　the　laboratory。〃　Leng's　laboratory。
　And　yet　it　had　yielded　few　clues。　There　was　a　remarkable　lack　of　debris；　as　if　the　floor　had　been　swept　clean。　She　had　found　some　broken　glassware　wedged　into　the　cracks　of　the　brick；　an　old　fire　grate　with　some　coal；　a　button；　a　rotten　trolley　ticket；　a　few　other　odds　and　ends。　It　seemed　that　Leng　had　wanted　to　leave　nothing　behind。
　Outside；　a　fresh　flash　of　lightning　penetrated　the　coat　Nora　had　hung　over　the　window。　A　second　later；　thunder　rumbled。　The　single　bulb　flickered；　browned；　then　brightened　once　again。
　She　continued　staring　thoughtfully　at　the　floor。　At　last；　she　spoke。　〃First；　we　need　to　widen　the　excavation。　And　then；　I　think　we'll　have　to　go　deeper。〃
　〃Deeper？〃　said　O'Shaughnessy；　a　note　of　incredulity　in　his　voice。
　Nora　nodded。　〃Leng　left　nothing　on　the　floor。　But　that　doesn't　mean　he　left　nothing　beneath　it。〃
　There　was　a　short；　chilly　silence。
　　
　Outside；　Doyers　Street　lay　prostrate　under　a　heavy　rain。　Water　ran　down　the　gutters　and　disappeared　into　the　storm　drains；　carrying　with　it　trash；　dog　turds；　drowned　rats；　rotting　vegetables；　the　guts　of　fish　from　the　market　down　the　street。　The　occasional　flash　of　lightning　illuminated　the　darkened　facades；　shooting　darts　of　light　into　the　curling　fogs　that　licked　and　eddied　about　the　pavement。
　A　stooped　figure　in　a　derby　hat；　almost　obscured　beneath　a　black　umbrella；　made　its　way　down　the　narrow　street。　The　figure　moved　slowly；　painfully；　leaning　on　a　cane　as　it　approached。　It　paused；　ever　so　briefly；　before　Number　99　Doyers　Street；　then　it　drifted　on　into　the　miasma　of　fog；　a　shadow　merging　with　shadows　until　one　could　hardly　say　that　it　had　been　there　at　all。
　
　FIVE
　　
　CUSTER　LEANED　BACK　in　his　oversized　Mediterranean　office　chair　with　a　sigh。　It　was　a　quarter　to　twelve　on　Saturday　morning；　and　by　rights　he　should　have　been　out　with　the　bowling　club；　drinking　beer　with　his　buddies。　He　was　a　precinct　mander；　for　chrissakes；　not　a　homicide　detective。　Why　did　they　want　him　in　on　a　frigging　Saturday？　Goddamn　pointless　public　relations　bullshit。　He'd　done　nothing　but　sit　on　his　ass　all　morning；　listening　to　the　asbestos　rattle　in　the　heating　ducts。　A　waste　of　a　perfectly　good　weekend。
　At　least　Pendergast　was　out　of　action　for　the　time　being。　But　what；　exactly；　had　he　been　up　to？　When　he'd　asked　O'Shaughnessy　about　it；　the　man　was　damned　evasive。　You'd　think　a　cop　with　a　record　like　his　would　do　himself　a　favor；　learn　what　to　kiss　and　when。　Well；　Custer　had　had　enough。　e　Monday；　he　was　going　to　tighten　the　leash　on　that　puppy；　but　good。
　The　buzzer　on　his　desk　rang；　and　Custer　poked　at　it　angrily。　〃What　the　hell　is　it　now？　I　was　not　to　be　disturbed。〃
　〃missioner　Rocker　is　on　line　one；　Captain；〃　came　Noyes's　voice；　carefully　neutral。
　Omigod　holy　shit　sonofabitch；　thought　Custer。　His　shaking　hand　hovered　over　the　blinking　light　on　his　telephone。　What　the　hell　did　the　missioner　want　with　him？　Hadn't　he　done　everything　they'd　asked　him　to　do；　the　mayor；　the　chief；　everybody？　Whatever　it　was；　it　wasn't　his　fault　。　。　。
　A　fat；　trembling　finger　depressed　the　button。
　〃Custer？〃　The　missioner's　desiccated　voice　filled　his　ear。
　〃What　is　it；　sir？〃　Custer　squeaked；　making　a　belated　effort　to　lower　the　pitch　of　his　voice。
　〃Your　man。　O'Shaughnessy。〃
　〃Yes　sir？　What　about　O'Shaughnessy？〃
　〃I'm　a　little　curious　here。　Why；　exactly；　did　he　request　a　copy　of　the　forensic　report　from　the　ME's　office　on　the　remains　found　down　on　Catherine　Street？　Did　you　authorize　this？〃　The　voice　was　slow；　weary。
　What　the　hell　was　O'Shaughnessy　up　to？　Custer's　mind　raced。　He　could　tell　the　truth；　say　that　O'Shaughnessy　must　have　been　disobeying　his　orders。　But　that　would　make　him　look　like　a　fool；　a　man　who　couldn't　control　his　own。　On　the　other　hand；　he　could　lie。
　He　chose　the　latter；　more　habitual　course。
　〃missioner？〃　he　managed　to　bring　his　voice　down　to　a　relatively　masculine　pitch。　〃I　authorized　it。　You　see；　we　didn't　have　a　copy　down　here　for　our　files。　It's　just　a　formality；　you　know；　dotting　every　t　and　crossing　every　i。　We　do　things　by　the　book；　sir。〃
　There　was　a　silence。　〃Custer；　since　you　are　so　nimble　with　aphorisms；　you　surely　know　the　expression　'Let　sleeping　dogs　lie'？〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃I　thought　the　mayor　made　it　clear　we　were　going　to　let　that　particular　sleeping　dog　lie。〃　Rocker　didn't　sound　like　he　had　the　greatest　faith　in　the　mayor's　judgment。
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃O'Shaughnessy　isn't　freelancing；　is　he；　Custer？　He's　not；　by　any　chance；　helping　that　FBI　agent　while　he's　laid　up…is　he？〃
　〃He's　a　solid　officer；　loyal　and　obedient。　I　asked　him　to　get　the　report。〃
　〃In　that　case；　I'm　surprised　at　you；　Custer。　Surely　you　know　that　once　the　report　is　down　at　the　precinct；　every　cop　there　will　have　access　to　it。　Which　is　one　step　from　laying　it　on　the　doorstep　of　the　New　York　Times。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　sir。　I　didn't　think　of　that。〃
　〃I　want　that　report…every　copy　of　that　report…sent　back　up　to　me。　Personally。　By　courier。　You　understand？　No　copy　is　to　remain　at　precinct。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃　Christ；　how　was　he　going　to　do　that？　He　would　have　to　get　it　from　O'Shaughnessy；　the　son　of　a　bitch。
　〃I　get　the　funny　feeling；　Custer；　that　you　don't　quite　appreciate　the　full　situation　here。　This　Catherine　Street　business　has　nothing　to　do　with　any　criminal　investigation。　It　is　a　historical　matter。　That　forensic　report　belongs　to　Moegen…Fairhaven。　It's　private　property。　They　paid　for　it　and　the　remains　were　found　on　their　land。　Those　remains　have　been　given　a　respectful　but　anonymous　burial　in　a　private　cemetery；　with　the　appropriate　religious　ceremonies；　all　arranged　by　Moegen…Fairhaven。　The　matter　is　closed。　Follow　me　so　far？〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃Now；　Moegen…Fairhaven　is　a　good　friend　of　the　mayor…as　the　mayor　has　taken　pains　to　point　out　to　me…and　Mr。　Fairhaven　himself　is　working　very　hard　to　see　that　he　is　re…elected。　But　if　this　situation　gets　any　more　botched　up；　Fairhaven　might　not　be　so　enthusiastic　in　his　support。　He　might　decide　to　sit　this　one　out。　He　might　even　decide　to　throw　his　weight　behind　the　other　fellow　who's　running。〃
　〃I　und