preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第75部分

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offin…shaped　crate；　pierced　by　half　a　dozen　swords。　On　the　walls　hung　ropes；　strings　of　moldering　kerchiefs　tied　end…to…end；　straitjackets；　manacles；　chains；　cuffs　of　various　sizes。　It　was　an　inexplicable；　eerie　display；　made　the　more　unsettling　by　its　lack　of　relation　to　what　he　had　seen　before。
　Smithback　crept　on　into　the　center　of　the　room；　keeping　away　from　the　dark　corners。　The　front　of　the　house；　he　figured；　would　be　straight　ahead。　The　other　side　of　the　house　had　proven　a　dead　end；　surely　he　would　have　better　luck　this　way。　If　need　be；　he　would　batter　down　the　front　door。
　At　the　far　end　of　the　room；　another　passageway　led　off　into　darkness。　He　stepped　gingerly　into　it；　feeling　his　way　along　one　wall；　sliding　his　feet　forward　with　small；　tentative　steps。　In　the　faintest　of　light　he　could　see　the　hall　ended　in　another　room；　much　smaller　and　more　intimate　than　the　ones　he　had　passed　through　before。　The　specimens　were　fewer　here…just　a　few　cabinets　filled　with　seashells　and　some　mounted　dolphin　skeletons。　It　seemed　to　have　once　been　a　drawing　room　or　parlor　of　some　kind。　Or　perhaps…and　at　the　thought；　fresh　hope　surged　within　him…an　entryway？
　The　only　illumination　came　from　a　single　pinprick　of　light　in　the　far　wall；　which　sent　a　pencil…thin　beam　of　light　through　the　dusty　air。　A　tiny　hole　in　one　of　the　boarded　windows。　With　a　huge　sense　of　relief　he　quickly　crossed　the　room　and　began　feeling　along　the　wall　with　his　fingers。　There　was　a　heavy　oak　door　here。　The　hope　that　was　rising　within　him　grew　stronger。　His　fingers　fell　on　a　marble　doorknob；　oversized　and　terribly　cold　in　his　hands。　He　grasped　it　eagerly；　turned。
　The　knob　refused　to　budge。
　With　desperate　strength；　he　tried　again。　No　luck。
　He　stepped　back　and；　with　a　groan　of　despair；　felt　along　the　edge　of　the　door　with　his　hands；　searching　for　a　deadbolt；　lock；　anything。　An　overwhelming　sense　of　fear　returned。
　Heedless　of　the　noise　now；　he　threw　himself　against　the　door；　once；　twice；　rushing　at　it　with　all　his　weight；　trying　desperately　to　break　it　down。　The　hollow　thumps　echoed　through　the　room　and　down　the　hall。　When　the　door　still　refused　to　budge；　he　stopped　and　leaned　against　it　with　a　gasp　of　panic。
　As　the　last　echoes　died　away；　something　stirred　from　within　the　well　of　blackness　in　a　far　corner　of　the　room。　A　voice；　low　and　dry　as　mummy　dust；　spoke。
　〃My　dear　fellow；　leaving　so　soon？　You've　only　just　got　here。〃
　
　SIX
　　
　CUSTER　BURST　THROUGH　the　door　to　the　Archives　and　planted　himself　in　the　middle　of　the　entryway；　hands　on　his　hips。　He　could　hear　the　patter　of　heavy…shod　feet　as　his　officers　fanned　out　behind　him。　Fast　and　furious；　he　reminded　himself。　Don't　give　'em　time　to　think。　He　observed…with　more　than　a　little　satisfaction…the　consternation　of　the　two　staff　members　who　had　leapt　up　at　the　sight　of　a　dozen　uniformed　officers　bearing　down　on　them。
　〃This　area　is　to　be　searched；〃　Custer　barked　out。　Noyes；　stepping　forward　out　of　Custer's　shadow；　held　up　the　warrant　in　a　superfluous　gesture。　Custer　noted；　with　approval；　that　Noyes　was　glaring　almost　as　balefully　at　the　archivists　as　he　was　himself。
　〃But；　Captain；〃　he　heard　Manetti　protest；　〃the　place　has　already　been　searched。　Right　after　the　body　of　Puck　was　found；　the　NYPD　had　forensics　teams；　dogs；　fingerprint　sweepers；　photographers；　and…〃
　〃I've　seen　the　report；　Manetti。　But　that　was　then。　This　is　now。　We　have　new　evidence；　important　evidence。〃　Custer　looked　around　impatiently。　〃Let's　get　some　light　in　here；　for　chrissakes！〃
　One　of　the　staff　jumped　and；　passing　his　hand　over　a　vast　cluster　of　ancient…looking　switches；　turned　on　a　bank　of　lights　within。
　〃Is　that　the　best　you　can　do？　It's　as　dark　as　a　tomb　in　here。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃All　right。〃　Custer　turned　to　his　detectives。　〃You　know　what　to　do。　Work　row　by　row；　shelf　by　shelf。　Leave　no　stone　unturned。〃
　There　was　a　pause。
　〃Well？　Get　to　it；　gentlemen！〃
　The　men　exchanged　brief；　uncertain　glances。　But　without　a　questioning　word　they　dutifully　fanned　out　into　the　stacks。　In　a　moment　they　were　gone；　like　water　absorbed　into　a　sponge；　leaving　Manetti　and　Custer　and　the　two　frightened　staffers　alone　by　the　reference　desk。　The　sound　of　thumping；　banging；　and　rattling　began　to　echo　back　down　the　stacks　as　Custer's　men　started　to　pull　things　off　the　shelves。　It　was　a　satisfying　sound；　the　sound　of　progress。
　〃Have　a　seat；　Manetti；〃　said　Custer；　unable　now　to　keep　condescension　pletely　out　of　his　voice。　〃Let's　talk。〃
　Manetti　looked　around；　saw　no　available　chairs；　and　remained　standing。
　〃Okay。〃　Custer　removed　a　leather…covered　notebook　and　gold　pen…purchased　in　Macy's　just　after　the　missioner　gave　him　the　new　assignment…and　prepared　to　take　notes。　〃So；　what　we　got　here　in　these　Archives？　A　bunch　of　papers？　Newspapers？　Old　takeout　menus？　What？〃
　Manetti　sighed。　〃The　Archives　contain　documents；　as　well　as　specimens　not　considered　important　enough　for　the　main　collections。　These　materials　are　available　to　historians　and　others　with　a　professional　interest。　It's　a　low…security　area。〃
　〃Low　security　is　right；〃　Custer　replied。　〃Low　enough　to　get　this　man　Puck's　ass　hoisted　on　a　goddamned　petrified　antler。　So　where's　the　valuable　stuff　kept？〃
　〃What's　not　in　the　general　collection　is　kept　in　the　Secure　Area；　a　location　with　a　separate　security　system。〃
　〃What　about　signing　in　to　these　Archives；　and　all　that？〃
　〃There's　a　logbook。〃
　〃Where's　the　book？〃
　Manetti　nodded　at　a　massive　volume　on　the　desk。　〃It　was　photocopied　for　the　police　after　Puck's　death。〃
　〃And　what　does　it　record？〃
　〃Everybody　who　enters　or　leaves　the　Archives　area。　But　the　police　already　noticed　that　some　of　the　most　recent　pages　were　razored　out…〃
　〃Everybody？　Staff　as　well　as　visiting　researchers？〃
　〃Everybody。　But…〃
　Custer　turned　to　Noyes；　then　pointed　at　the　book。　〃Bag　it。〃
　Manetti　looked　at　him　quickly。　〃That's　Museum　property。〃
　〃It　was。　Now　it's　evidence。〃
　〃But　you've　already　taken　all　the　important　evidence；　like　the　typewriter　those　notes　were　written　on；　and　the…〃
　〃When　we're　done　here；　you'll　get　a　receipt　for　everything。〃　If　you　ask　nicely；　Custer　thought　to　himself。　〃So；　what　we　got　here？〃　he　repeated。
　〃Dead　files；　mostly；　from　other　Museum　departments。　Papers　of　historical　value；　memos；　letters；　reports。　Everything　but　the　personnel　files　and　some　departmental　files。　The　Museum　saves　everything；　naturally；　as　a　public　institution。〃
　〃What　about　that　letter　found　here？　The　one　reported　in　the　papers；　describing　those　killings。　How　was　that　found？〃
　〃You'll　have　to　ask　Special　Agent　Pendergast；　who　found　it　along　with　Nora　Kelly。　He　found　it　hidden　in　some　kind　of　box。　Made　out　of　an　elephant's　foot；　I　believe。〃
　That　Nora　Kelly　again。　Custer　made　a　mental　note　to　question　her　himself　once　he　was　done　here。　She'd　be　his　prime　suspect；　if　he　thought　her　capable　of　hoisting　a　heavyset　man　onto　a　dinosaur　horn。　Maybe　she　had　acplices。
　Custer　jotted　some　notes。　〃Has　anything　been　moved　in　or　out　of　here　in　the　past　month？〃
　〃There　may　have　been　some　routine　additions　to　the　collection。　I　believe　that　once　a　month　or　so　they　send　dead　files　down　here。〃　Manetti　paused。　〃And；　after　the　discovery　of　the　letter；　it　and　all　related　documents　were　sent　upstairs　for　curating。　Along　with　other　material。〃
　Custer　nodded。　〃And　Collopy　ordered　that；　did　he　not？〃
　〃Actually；　I　believe　it　was　done　at　the　order　of　the　Museum's　vice　president　and　general　counsel；　Roger　Brisbane。〃
　Brisbane：　he'd　heard　that　name　before；　too。　Custer　made　another　note。　〃And　what；　exactly；　did　the　related　documents　consist　of？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　You'll　have　to　ask　Mr。　Brisbane。〃
　Custer　turned　to　the　two　museum　employees　behind　the　desk。　〃This　guy；　Brisbane。　You　see　him　down　here　a　lot？〃
　〃Quite　a　bit；　recently；〃　said　one。
　〃What's　he　been　doing？〃
　The　man　shrugged。　〃Just　asking　a　lot　of　questions；　that's　all。〃
　〃What　kind　of　questions？〃
　〃Questions　about　Nora　Kelly；　that　FBI　guy　。　。　。　He　wanted　to　know　what　they'd　been　looking　at；　where　they　went；　that　kind　of　thing。　And　some　journalist。　He　wanted　to　know　if　a　journalist　had　been　in　here。　I　can't　remember　the　name。〃
　〃Smithbrick？〃
　〃No；　but　something