preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第87部分

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red　everything。　Pendergast　stood　still；　directing　his　light　at　a　series　of　footprints…some　shod；　some　stockinged…that　had　disturbed　the　dust　on　the　floor。　He　looked　at　them　for　so　long；　studying　them　as　an　art　student　studies　an　old　master；　that　Nora　felt　impatience　begin　to　overwhelm　her。　At　last　he　led　the　way；　slowly；　through　the　room　and　down　a　short　passage　leading　into　a　large；　long　hall。　It　was　paneled　in　a　very　rich；　dense　wood；　and　the　low　ceiling　was　intricately　worked；　a　blend　of　the　gothic　and　austere。
　This　hall　was　full　of　an　odd　assortment　of　displays　Nora　was　unable　to　prehend：　weird　tables；　cabinets；　large　boxes；　iron　cages；　strange　apparatus。
　〃A　magician's　warehouse；〃　Pendergast　murmured　in　answer　to　her　unspoken　question。
　They　passed　through　the　room；　beneath　an　archway；　and　into　a　grand　reception　hall。　Once　again；　Pendergast　stopped　to　study　several　lines　of　footprints　that　crossed　and　recrossed　the　parquet　floor。
　〃Barefoot；　now；〃　she　heard　him　say　to　himself。　〃And　this　time；　he　was　running。〃
　He　quickly　probed　the　immense　space　with　his　beam。　Nora　saw　an　astonishing　range　of　objects：　mounted　skeletons；　fossils；　glass…fronted　cabinets　full　of　wondrous　and　terrible　artifacts；　gems；　skulls；　meteorites；　iridescent　beetles。　The　flashlight　played　briefly　over　all。　The　scent　of　cobwebs；　leather；　and　old　buckram　hung　heavy　in　the　thick　air；　veiling　a　fainter…and　much　less　pleasant…smell。
　〃What　is　this　place？〃　Nora　asked。
　〃Leng's　cabinet　of　curiosities。〃　A　two…toned　pistol　had　appeared　in　Pendergast's　left　hand。　The　stench　was　worse　now；　sickly　sweet；　oily；　that　filled　the　air　like　a　wet　fog；　clinging　to　her　hair；　limbs；　clothes。
　He　moved　forward；　warily；　his　light　playing　off　the　various　objects　in　the　room。　Some　of　the　objects　were　uncovered；　but　most　were　draped。　The　walls　were　lined　with　glass　cases；　and　Pendergast　moved　toward　them；　his　flashlight　licking　from　one　to　the　next。　The　glass　sparked　and　shimmered　as　the　beam　hit　it；　dark　shadows；　thrown　from　the　objects　within；　reared　forward　as　if　living　things。
　Suddenly；　the　beam　stopped　dead。　Nora　watched　as　Pendergast's　pale　face　lost　what　little　color　it　normally　had。　For　a　moment；　he　simply　stared；　motionless；　not　even　seeming　to　draw　breath。　Then；　very　slowly；　he　approached　the　case。　The　beam　of　the　flashlight　trembled　a　bit　as　he　moved。　Nora　followed；　wondering　what　had　had　such　a　galvanic　effect　on　the　agent。
　The　glass　case　was　not　like　the　rest。　It　did　not　contain　a　skeleton；　stuffed　trophy；　or　carven　image。　Instead；　behind　the　glass　stood　the　figure　of　a　dead　man；　legs　and　arms　strapped　upright　between　crude　iron　bars　and　cuffs；　mounted　as　if　for　museum　display。　The　man　was　dressed　in　severe　black；　with　a　nineteenth…century　frock　coat　and　striped　pants。
　〃Who…？〃　Nora　managed　to　say。
　But　Pendergast　was　transfixed；　hearing　nothing；　his　face　rigid。　All　his　attention　was　concentrated　on　the　mounted　man。　The　light　played　mercilessly　about　the　corpse。　It　lingered　for　a　long　time　on　one　particular　detail…a　pallid　hand；　the　flesh　shrunken　and　shriveled；　a　single　knucklebone　poking　from　a　tear　in　the　rotten　flesh。
　Nora　stared　at　the　exposed　knuckle；　red　and　ivory　against　the　parchment　skin。　With　a　nauseous　lurch　in　the　pit　of　her　stomach；　she　realized　that　the　hand　was　missing　all　its　fingernails；　that；　in　fact；　nothing　remained　of　the　fingertips　but　bloody　stumps；　punctuated　by　protruding　bones。
　Then…slowly；　inexorably…the　light　began　traveling　up　the　front　of　the　corpse。　The　beam　rose　past　the　buttons　of　the　coat；　up　the　starched　shirtfront；　before　at　last　stopping　on　the　face。
　It　was　mummified；　shrunken；　wizened。　And　yet　it　was　surprisingly　well　preserved；　all　the　features　modeled　as　finely　as　if　carved　from　stone。　The　lips；　which　had　dried　and　shriveled；　were　drawn　back　in　a　rictus　of　merriment；　exposing　two　beautiful　rows　of　white　teeth。　Only　the　eyes　were　gone：　empty　sockets　like　bottomless　pools　no　light　could　illuminate。
　There　was　a　hollow；　muffled　sound　of　rustling　ing　from　inside　the　skull。
　The　journey　through　the　house　had　already　numbed　Nora　with　horror。　But　now　her　mind　went　blank　with　an　even　worse　shock：　the　shock　of　recognition。
　She　automatically　turned；　speechless；　to　Pendergast。　His　frame　remained　rigid；　his　eyes　wide　and　staring。　Whatever　it　was　he　had　expected　to　find；　it　was　not　this。
　She　shifted　her　horrified　gaze　back　at　the　corpse。　Even　in　death；　there　could　be　no　question。　The　corpse　had　the　same　marble…colored　skin；　the　same　refined　features；　the　same　thin　lips　and　aquiline　nose；　the　same　high　smooth　forehead　and　delicate　chin；　the　same　fine　pale　hair…as　Pendergast　himself。
　
　SIX
　　
　CUSTER　OBSERVED　THE　perp…　he'd　already　begun　to　call　him　that…with　deep　satisfaction。　The　man　stood　in　his　office；　hands　cuffed　behind　him；　black　tie　askew　and　white　shirt　rumpled；　hair　disheveled；　dark　circles　of　sweat　beneath　his　armpits。　How　are　the　mighty　fallen；　indeed。　He'd　held　out　a　long　time；　kept　up　that　arrogant；　impatient　facade。　But　now；　the　eyes　were　red；　the　lips　trembling。　He　hadn't　believed　it　was　really　going　to　happen　to　him。　It　was　the　cuffs　that　did　it；　Custer　thought　knowingly　to　himself。　He　had　seen　it　happen　many　times　before；　to　men　a　lot　tougher　than　Brisbane。　Something　about　the　cool　clasp　of　the　manacles　around　your　wrists；　the　realization　that　you　were　under　arrest；　powerless…in　custody…was　more　than　some　people　could　take。
　The　true；　the　pure；　police　work　was　over…now　it　was　just　a　matter　of　collecting　all　the　little　evidentiary　details；　work　for　the　lower　echelons　to　plete。　Custer　himself　could　take　leave　of　the　scene。
　He　glanced　at　Noyes　and　saw　admiration　shining　in　the　small　hound　face。　Then　he　turned　back　to　the　perp。
　〃Well；　Brisbane；〃　he　said。　〃It　all　falls　into　place；　doesn't　it？〃
　Brisbane　looked　at　him　with　unprehending　eyes。
　〃Murderers　always　think　they're　smarter　than　everyone　else。　Especially　the　police。　But　when　you　get　down　to　it；　Brisbane；　you　really　didn't　play　it　smart　at　all。　Keeping　the　disguise　right　here　in　your　office；　for　example。　And　then　there　was　the　matter　of　all　those　witnesses。　Trying　to　hide　evidence；　lying　to　me　about　how　often　you　were　in　the　Archives。　Killing　victims　so　close　to　your　own　place　of　work；　your　place　of　residence。　The　list　goes　on；　doesn't　it？〃
　The　door　opened　and　a　uniformed　officer　slipped　a　fax　into　Custer's　hand。
　〃And　here's　another　little　fact　just　in。　Yes；　the　little　facts　can　be　so　inconvenient。〃　He　read　over　the　fax。　〃Ah。　And　now　we　know　where　you　got　your　medical　training；　Brisbane：　you　were　pre…med　at　Yale。〃　He　handed　the　fax　to　Noyes。　〃Switched　to　geology　your　junior　year。　Then　to　law。〃　Custer　shook　his　head　again；　wonderingly；　at　the　bottomless　stupidity　of　criminals。
　Brisbane　finally　managed　to　speak。　〃I'm　no　murderer！　Why　would　I　kill　those　people？〃
　Custer　shrugged　philosophically。　〃The　very　question　I　asked　you。　But　then；　why　do　any　serial　killers　kill？　Why　did　Jack　the　Ripper　kill？　Why　Jeffrey　Dahmer？　That's　a　question　for　the　psychiatrists　to　answer。　Or　maybe　for　God。〃
　On　this　note；　Custer　turned　back　to　Noyes。　〃Set　up　a　press　conference　for　midnight。　One　Police　Plaza。　No；　hold　on…let's　make　it　on　the　front　steps　of　the　Museum。　Call　the　missioner；　call　the　press。　And　most　importantly；　call　the　mayor；　on　his　private　line　at　Gracie　Mansion。　This　is　one　call　he'll　be　happy　to　get　out　of　bed　for。　Tell　them　we　collared　the　Surgeon。〃
　〃Yes；　sir！〃　said　Noyes；　turning　to　go。
　〃My　God；　the　publicity　。　。　。〃　Brisbane's　voice　was　high；　strangled。　〃Captain；　I'll　have　your　badge　for　this　。　。　。〃　He　choked　up　with　fear　and　rage；　unable　to　continue。
　But　Custer　wasn't　listening。　He'd　had　another　masterstroke。
　〃Just　a　minute！〃　he　called　to　Noyes。　〃Make　sure　the　mayor　knows　that　he'll　be　the　star　of　our　show。　We'll　let　him　make　the　announcement。〃
　As　the　door　closed；　Custer　turned　his　thoughts　to　the　mayor。　The　election　was　a　week　away。　He　would　need　the　boost。　Letting　him　make　the　announcement　was　a　clever　move；　very　clever。　Rumor　had　it　that　the　job　of　missioner　would　bee　vacant　after　reelection。　And；　after　all；　it　was　never　too　early　to　hope。
　
　SEVEN
　　
　AGAIN；　NORA　LOOKED　at　Pende