preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第80部分

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n；　honeyed　tone。　〃I　am　Sergeant　O'Grady；　and　this　is　Sergeant　Finester。　Do　we　have　permission　to　tape…record　you？〃
　〃If　it's　necessary；〃　the　woman　said。　Her　voice　wasn't　quite　as　sexy　as　her　looks。　It　was　clipped；　short；　irritated。
　〃You　have　the　right　to　a　lawyer；〃　continued　O'Grady；　his　voice　still　low　and　soothing；　〃and　you　have　the　right　to　decline　our　questioning。　We　want　you　to　understand　this　is　voluntary。〃
　〃And　if　I　refuse？〃
　O'Grady　chuckled　in　a　friendly　way。　〃It's　not　my　decision；　you　understand；　but　they　might　subpoena　you；　make　you　e　down　to　the　station。　Lawyers　are　expensive。　It　would　be　inconvenient。　We　just　have　a　few　questions　here；　no　big　deal。　You're　not　a　suspect。　We're　just　asking　for　a　little　help。〃
　〃All　right；〃　the　woman　said。　〃Go　ahead。　I've　been　questioned　several　times　before。　I　suppose　once　more　won't　hurt。〃
　O'Grady　began　to　speak　again；　but　this　time　Finester　was　ready；　and　he　cut　O'Grady　off。　He　wasn't　going　to　sit　there　like　an　idiot　while　O'Grady　did　all　the　talking。　The　guy　was　as　bad　as　his　wife。
　〃Dr。　Kelly；〃　he　said；　hastily；　perhaps　a　little　too　loud；　quickly　covering　it　with　a　smile　of　his　own；　〃we're　delighted　you're　willing　to　help　us。　For　the　record；　please　state　your　full　name；　address；　the　date；　and　time。　There's　a　clock　on　the　wall　over　there；　but　no；　I　see　you're　wearing　a　watch。　It's　just　a　formality；　you　know；　so　we　can　keep　our　tapes　straight；　not　get　them　mixed　up。　We　wouldn't　want　to　arrest　the　wrong　person。〃　He　chuckled　at　his　joke　and　was　a　little　disappointed　when　she　didn't　chuckle　along　with　him。
　O'Grady　gave　him　a　pitying；　condescending　look。　Finester　felt　the　irritation　toward　his　partner　rise。　When　you　got　down　to　it；　he　really　couldn't　stand　the　guy。　So　much　for　the　unbreakable　blue　bond。　He　found　himself　wishing　O'Grady　would　stop　a　bullet　someday　soon。　Like　tomorrow。
　The　woman　stated　her　name。　Then　Finester　jumped　in　again　and　recorded　his　own；　O'Grady　following　a　little　grudgingly。　After　a　few　more　formalities；　Finester　put　the　background　sheet　aside　and　reached　for　the　latest　list　of　prepared　questions。　The　list　seemed　longer　than　before；　and　he　was　surprised　to　see　some　handwritten　entries　at　the　bottom。　They　must　have　just　been　added；　obviously　in　haste。　Who　the　hell　had　been　messing　with　their　interrogation　sheets？　This　whole　thing　was　balls　up。　Totally　balls　up。
　O'Grady　seized　on　Finester's　silence　as　an　opportunity。　〃Dr。　Kelly；〃　he　jumped　in；　〃could　you　please　describe　in　your　own　words　your　involvement　in　this　case？　Please　take　all　the　time　you　need　to　recall　the　details。　If　you　don't　remember　something；　or　are　unsure　about　it；　feel　free　to　let　us　know。　I've　found　that　it's　better　to　say　you　can't　remember　than　to　give　us　details　that　may　not　be　accurate。〃　He　gave　her　a　broad　smile；　his　blue　eyes　twinkling　with　an　almost　conspiratorial　gleam。
　Screw　him；　thought　Finester。
　The　woman　gave　a　testy　sigh；　crossed　her　long　legs；　and　began　to　speak。
　
　FIVE
　　
　SMITHBACK　FELT　THE　paralysis；　the　dreadful　helplessness；　take　plete　possession　of　him。　His　limbs　were　dead；　motionless；　foreign。　He　could　not　blink　his　eyes。　Worst　of　all…by　far；　the　worst　of　all…he　could　not　even　fill　his　lungs　with　air。　His　body　was　immobilized。　He　panicked　as　he　tried　to　work　his　lungs；　struggled　to　draw　in　breath。　It　was　like　drowning；　only　worse。
　Leng　hovered　over　him　now；　a　dark　figure　backlit　by　the　rectangle　of　the　door；　spent　needle　in　his　hand。　His　face　was　a　shadow　beneath　the　brow　of　his　derby　hat。
　A　hand　reached　forward；　grasped　the　edge　of　the　duct　tape　that　still　partially　sealed　Smithback's　mouth。　〃No　need　for　this　anymore；〃　Leng　said。　With　a　sharp　tug；　it　was　ripped　away。　〃Now；　let's　get　you　intubated。　After　all；　it　wouldn't　do　to　have　you　asphyxiate　before　the　procedure　begins。〃
　Smithback　tried　to　draw　breath　for　a　scream。　Nothing　came　but　the　barest　whisper。　His　tongue　felt　thick　and　impossibly　large　in　his　mouth。　His　jaw　sagged；　a　rivulet　of　saliva　drooling　down　his　chin。　It　was　a　consummate　struggle　just　to　draw　in　a　spoonful　of　air。
　The　figure　took　a　step　back；　disappearing　beyond　the　door。　There　was　a　rattle　in　the　hallway　and　Leng　returned；　wheeling　a　stainless　steel　gurney　and　a　large；　boxlike　machine　on　rubber　wheels。　He　positioned　the　gurney　next　to　Smithback；　then　bent　over　and；　with　an　old　iron　key；　quickly　unlocked　the　cuffs　around　the　reporter's　wrists　and　legs。　Through　his　terror　and　despair　Smithback　could　smell　the　musty；　mothball　odor　of　antique　clothes；　along　with　the　tang　of　sweat　and　a　faint　whiff　of　eucalyptus；　as　if　Leng　had　been　sucking　on　a　lozenge。
　〃I'm　going　to　place　you　on　the　gurney　now；〃　Leng　said。
　Smithback　felt　himself　being　lifted。　And　then；　cold　unyielding　metal　pressed　against　his　naked　limbs。　His　nose　was　running　but　he　could　not　raise　his　arm　to　brush　it　away。　His　need　for　oxygen　was　being　acute。　He　was　totally　paralyzed…but；　most　terrible　of　all；　he　retained　an　utter　clarity　of　consciousness　and　sensation。
　Leng　reappeared　in　his　field　of　vision；　a　slender　plastic　tube　in　one　hand。　Placing　his　fingers　on　Smithback's　jaw；　Leng　pulled　the　mouth　wide。　Smithback　felt　the　tube　knock　roughly　against　the　back　of　his　throat；　slide　down　his　trachea。　How　awful　to　feel　the　intense；　undeniable　desire　to　retch…and　yet　be　unable　to　make　even　the　slightest　movement。　There　was　a　hiss　as　the　ventilating　machine　filled　his　lungs　with　air。
　For　a　moment；　the　relief　was　so　great　Smithback　momentarily　forgot　his　predicament。
　Now　the　gurney　was　moving。　A　low；　brickwork　ceiling　was　passing　by　overhead；　punctuated　occasionally　by　naked　bulbs。　A　moment　later；　and　the　ceiling　changed；　rising　into　what　seemed　a　cavernous　space。　The　gurney　swung　around　again；　then　came　to　rest。　Leng　bent　down；　out　of　sight。　Smithback　heard　four　measured　clicks；　one　after　the　other；　as　the　wheels　were　locked　in　place。　There　were　banks　of　heavy　lights；　a　whiff　of　alcohol　and　Betadine　that　covered　a　subtler；　far　worse；　smell。
　Leng　slid　his　arms　beneath　Smithback；　raised　him　up　once　again；　and　moved　him　from　the　gurney　to　another　steel　table；　wider　and　even　colder。　The　motion　was　gentle；　almost　loving。
　And　then…with　a　pletely　different　motion；　economical　and　amazingly　strong…he　turned　Smithback　over　onto　his　stomach。
　Smithback　could　not　close　his　mouth；　and　his　tongue　pressed　against　the　metal　gurney；　unwillingly　sampling　the　sour　chlorinated　taste　of　disinfectants。　It　made　him　think　about　who　else　might　have　been　on　this　table；　and　what　might　have　happened　to　them。　A　wave　of　fear　and　nausea　washed　over　him。　The　ventilator　tube　gurgled　inside　his　mouth。
　Then　Leng　approached　and；　passing　his　hand　across　Smithback's　face；　shut　his　eyelids。
　The　table　was　cold；　so　cold。　He　could　hear　Leng　moving　around。　There　was　a　pressure　on　his　elbow；　a　brief　sting　as　an　intravenous　needle　was　inserted　near　his　wrist；　the　ripping　sound　of　medical　tape　being　pulled　from　its　canister。　He　could　smell　the　eucalyptus　breath；　hear　the　low　voice。　It　spoke　in　a　whisper。
　〃There　will　be　some　pain；　I'm　afraid；〃　the　voice　said　as　straps　were　fixed　to　Smithback's　limbs。　〃Rather　a　lot　of　pain；　in　fact。　But　good　science　is　never　really　free　from　pain。　So　do　not　dispose　yourself。　And　if　I　may　offer　a　word　of　advice？〃
　Smithback　tried　to　struggle；　but　his　body　was　far　away。　The　whisper　continued；　soft　and　soothing：　〃Be　like　the　gazelle　in　the　jaws　of　the　lion：　limp；　accepting；　resigned。　Trust　me。　That　is　the　best　way。〃
　There　was　the　sound　of　water　rushing　in　a　sink；　the　clink　of　steel　on　steel；　instruments　sliding　in　a　metal　basin。　The　light　in　the　room　grew　abruptly　brighter。　Smithback's　pulse　began　to　race　wildly；　faster　and　faster；　until　the　table　beneath　him　seemed　almost　to　rock　in　time　with　the　frantic　beating　of　his　heart。
　
　SIX
　　
　NORA　SHIFTED　IN　the　unfortable　wooden　chair；　glanced　at　her　watch　for　what　had　to　be　the　fifth　time。　Ten…thirty。　This　was　like　the　questioning　she'd　endured　after　finding　Puck's　body；　only　worse…much　worse。　Though　she'd　deliberately　kept　her　story　brief；　reduced　her　answers　to　mere　one…liners；　the　questions　kept　ing　in　an　endless；　moronic　stream。　Questions　about　her　work　at　the　Museum。　Questions　abou