preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第86部分

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　〃Yes；　I　believe　so。　Mr。　Puck's　assistant。〃
　〃Exactly。　According　to　the　testimony　of　Mr。　Gibbs；　on　the　afternoon　of　October　12；　you　and　Mr。　Puck　had　a　little；　ah；　discussion　in　the　Archives。　This　was　after　you　found　out　that　Human　Resources　had　not　supported　your　remendation　to　fire　Puck。〃
　Brisbane　colored　slightly。　〃I　wouldn't　believe　everything　you　hear。〃
　Custer　smiled。　〃I　don't；　Mr。　Brisbane。　Believe　me；　I　don't。〃　He　followed　this　with　a　long；　delicious　pause。　〃Now；　this　Mr。　Oscar　Gibbs　said　that　you　and　Puck　were　yelling　at　each　other。　Or　rather；　you　were　yelling　at　Puck。　Care　to　tell　me；　in　your　words；　what　that　was　about？〃
　〃I　was　reprimanding　Mr。　Puck。〃
　〃What　for？〃
　〃Neglecting　my　instructions。〃
　〃Which　were？〃
　〃To　stick　to　his　job。〃
　〃To　stick　to　his　job。　How　had　he　been　deviating　from　his　job？〃
　〃He　was　doing　outside　work；　helping　Nora　Kelly　with　her　external　projects；　when　I　had　specifically…〃
　It　was　time。　Custer　pounced。
　〃According　to　Mr。　Oscar　Gibbs；　you　were　（and　I　will　read）：　screaming　and　yelling　and　threatening　to　bury　Mr。　Puck。　He　（that's　you；　Mr。　Brisbane）　said　he　wasn't　through　by　a　long　shot。〃　Custer　lowered　the　paper；　glanced　at　Brisbane。　〃That's　the　word　you　used：　'bury。'　〃
　〃It's　a　mon　figure　of　speech。〃
　〃And　then；　not　twenty…four　hours　later；　Puck's　body　was　found；　gored　on　a　dinosaur　in　the　Archives。　After　having　been　butchered；　most　likely　in　those　very　same　Archives。　An　operation　like　that　takes　time；　Mr。　Brisbane。　Clearly；　it　was　done　by　somebody　who　knew　the　Museum's　ways　very　well。　Someone　with　a　security　clearance。　Someone　who　could　move　around　the　Museum　without　exciting　notice。　An　insider；　if　you　will。　And　then；　Nora　Kelly　gets　a　phony　note；　typed　on　Puck's　typewriter；　asking　her　to　e　down…and　she　herself　is　attacked；　pursued　with　deadly　intent。　Nora　Kelly。　The　other　thorn　in　your　side。　The　third　thorn；　the　FBI　agent；　was　in　the　hospital　at　this　point；　having　been　attacked　by　someone　wearing　a　derby　hat。〃
　Brisbane　stared　at　him　in　disbelief。
　〃Why　didn't　you　want　Puck　to　help　Nora　Kelly　in　her…what　did　you　call　them…external　projects？〃
　This　was　answered　by　silence。
　〃What　were　you　afraid　she　would　find？　They　would　find？〃
　Brisbane's　mouth　worked　briefly。　〃I　。　。　。　I　。　。　。〃
　Now　Custer　slipped　in　the　knife。　〃Why　the　copycat　angle；　Mr。　Brisbane？　Was　it　something　you　found　in　the　Archives？　Is　that　what　prompted　you　to　do　it？　Was　Puck　getting　too　close　to　learning　something？〃
　At　this；　Brisbane　found　his　voice　at　last。　He　shot　to　his　feet。　〃Now；　just　a　minute…〃
　Custer　turned。　〃Officer　Noyes？〃
　〃Yes？〃　Noyes　responded　eagerly。
　〃Cuff　him。〃
　〃No；〃　Brisbane　gasped。　〃You　fool；　you're　making　a　terrible　mistake…〃
　Custer　worked　his　way　out　of　the　chair…it　was　not　as　smooth　a　motion　as　he　would　have　wished…and　began　abruptly　booming　out　the　Miranda　rights：　〃You　have　the　right　to　remain　silent…〃
　〃This　is　an　outrage…〃
　〃…you　have　the　right　to　an　attorney…〃
　〃I　will　not　accept　this！〃
　〃…you　have　the　right…〃
　He　thundered　it　out　to　the　bitter　end；　overriding　Brisbane's　protestations。　He　watched　as　the　gleeful　Noyes　slapped　the　cuffs　on　the　man。　It　was　the　most　satisfying　collar　Custer　could　ever　remember。　It　was；　in　fact；　the　single　greatest　job　of　police　work　he　had　done　in　his　life。　This　was　the　stuff　of　legend。　For　many　years　to　e；　they'd　be　telling　the　story　of　how　Captain　Custer　put　the　cuffs　on　the　Surgeon。
　
　FIVE
　　
　PENDERGAST　SET　OFF　up　Riverside　once　again；　black　suit　coat　open　and　flapping　behind　him　in　the　Manhattan　night。　Nora　hurried　after。　Her　thoughts　returned　to　Smithback；　imprisoned　in　one　of　these　gaunt　buildings。　She　tried　to　force　the　image　from　her　mind；　but　it　kept　returning；　again　and　again。　She　was　almost　physically　sick　with　worry　about　what　might　be　happening…what　might　have　already　happened。
　She　wondered　how　she　could　have　been　so　angry　with　him。　It's　true　that　much　of　the　time　he　was　impossible…a　schemer；　impulsive；　always　looking　for　an　angle；　always　getting　himself　into　trouble。　And　yet　many　of　those　same　negative　qualities　were　his　most　endearing。　She　thought　back　to　how　he'd　dressed　up　as　a　bum　to　help　her　retrieve　the　old　dress　from　the　excavation；　how　he'd　e　to　warn　her　after　Pendergast　was　stabbed。　When　push　came　to　shove；　he　was　there。　She　had　been　awfully　hard　on　him。　But　it　was　too　late　to　be　sorry。　She　suppressed　a　sob　of　bitter　regret。
　They　moved　past　guttered　mansions　and　once　elegant　townhouses；　now　festering　crack　dens　and　shooting　galleries　for　junkies。　Pendergast　gave　each　building　a　searching　look；　always　turning　away　with　a　little　shake　of　his　head。
　Nora's　thoughts　flitted　briefly　to　Leng　himself。　It　seemed　impossible　that　he　could　still　be　alive；　concealed　within　one　of　these　crumbling　dwellings。　She　glanced　up　the　Drive　again。　She　had　to　concentrate；　try　to　pick　his　house　out　from　the　others。　Wherever　he　lived；　it　would　be　fortable。　A　man　who　had　lived　over　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　would　be　excessively　concerned　with　fort。　But　it　would　no　doubt　give　the　surface　impression　of　being　abandoned。　And　it　would　be　well…nigh　impregnable…Leng　wouldn't　want　any　unexpected　visitors。　This　was　the　perfect　neighborhood　for　such　a　place：　abandoned；　yet　once　elegant；　externally　shabby；　yet　livable　inside；　boarded　up；　very　private。
　The　trouble　was；　so　many　of　the　buildings　met　those　criteria。
　Then；　near　the　corner　of　138th　Street；　Pendergast　stopped　dead。　He　turned；　slowly；　to　face　yet　another　abandoned　building。　It　was　a　large；　decayed　mansion；　a　hulking　shadow　of　bygone　glory；　set　back　from　the　street　by　a　small　service　drive。　Like　many　others；　the　first　floor　had　been　securely　boarded　up　with　tin。　It　looked　just　like　a　dozen　other　buildings　they　had　passed。　And　yet　Pendergast　was　staring　at　it　with　an　expression　of　intentness　Nora　had　not　seen　before。
　Silently；　he　turned　the　corner　of　138th　Street。　Nora　followed；　watching　him。　The　FBI　agent　moved　slowly；　eyes　mostly　on　the　ground；　with　just　occasional　darted　glances　up　at　the　building。　They　continued　down　the　block　until　they　reached　the　corner　of　Broadway。　The　moment　they　turned　the　corner；　Pendergast　spoke。
　〃That's　it。〃
　〃How　do　you　know？〃
　〃The　crest　carved　on　the　escutcheon　over　the　door。　Three　apothecary　balls　over　a　sprig　of　hemlock。〃　He　waved　his　hand。　〃Forgive　me　if　I　reserve　explanations　for　later。　Follow　my　lead。　And　be　very；　very　careful。〃
　He　continued　around　the　block　until　they　reached　the　corner　of　Riverside　Drive　and　137th。　Nora　looked　at　the　building　with　a　mixture　of　curiosity；　apprehension；　and　outright　fear。　It　was　a　large；　four…story；　brick…and…stone　structure　that　occupied　the　entire　short　block。　Its　frontage　was　enclosed　in　a　wrought　iron　fence；　ivy　covering　the　rusty　pointed　rails。　The　garden　within　was　long　gone；　taken　over　by　weeds；　bushes；　and　garbage。　A　carriage　drive　circled　the　rear　of　the　house；　exiting　on　138th　Street。　Though　the　lower　windows　were　securely　boarded　over；　the　upper　courses　remained　unblocked；　although　at　least　one　window　on　the　second　story　was　broken。　She　stared　up　at　the　crest　Pendergast　had　mentioned。　An　inscription　in　Greek　ran　around　its　edge。
　A　gust　of　wind　rustled　the　bare　limbs　in　the　yard；　the　reflected　moon；　the　scudding　clouds；　flickered　in　the　glass　panes　of　the　upper　stories。　The　place　looked　haunted。
　Pendergast　ducked　into　the　carriage　drive；　Nora　following　close　behind。　The　agent　kicked　aside　some　garbage　with　his　shoe　and；　after　a　quick　look　around；　stepped　up　to　a　solid　oak　door　set　into　deep　shadow　beneath　the　porte…cochère。　It　seemed　to　Nora　as　if　Pendergast　merely　caressed　the　lock；　and　then　the　door　opened　silently　on　well…oiled　hinges。
　They　stepped　quickly　inside。　Pendergast　eased　the　door　closed；　and　Nora　heard　the　sound　of　a　lock　clicking。　A　moment　of　intense　darkness　while　they　stood　still；　listening　for　any　sounds　from　within。　The　old　house　was　silent。　After　a　minute；　the　yellow　line　of　Pendergast's　hooded　flashlight　appeared；　scanning　the　room　around　them。
　They　were　standing　in　a　small　entryway。　The　floor　was　polished　marble；　and　the　walls　were　papered　in　heavy　velvet　fabric。　Dust　covered　everything。　Pendergast　stood　still；　directing　his　l