el.angeleyes-第2部分

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s　dressed　in　a　pair　of　baggy　silk　trousers　and　a　washed　silk　shirt；　open　at　the　neck；　under　a　trim　linen　sport　coat。　He　had　the　thick　black　hair；　the　heavy…lidded　eyes　of　the　Latin　porteno。
　Estilo　caught　her　appraising　look。　〃My　darling　Tori！〃　he　exclaimed；　clamping　her　in　a　fervent　embrace。'　'Why　didn't　you　tell　me　you　were　ing？　I　would　have　made　preparations！〃
　'　'I　didn't　know　myself　until　the　last　minute；''　Tori　said。'　'You　know　how　my　life　is。〃
　Estilo　gave　her　a　rueful　look。　〃Too　chaotic　for　someone　in　so　early　a　retirement。〃　He　clucked　his　tongue　against　the　roof　of　his　mouth。　〃I　keep　telling　you　to　find　a　line　of　work　that　interests　you。''　He　smiled；　showing　large；　nicotine…stained　teeth。　〃And　if　not；　you　have　a　permanent　invitation　to　join　my　business。〃
　〃Just　what　is　your　business？〃　Tori　asked。
　Estilo　threw　his　head　back　and　laughed；　then　he　grabbed　at　the　sleeve　of　the　younger　man；　pulled　him　down　to　a　seat　next　to　him　at　Tori's　table。　〃Tori　Nunn；　I'd　like　you　to　meet　a　friend　of　mine；　Ariel　Solares。　Ariel　is　a　norteamericano　who　spends　a　majority　of　his　time　here。　his　most　fervent　desire　is　to　bee　a　　porteno；　no；　Ariel？〃
　〃My　friend　exaggerates；　as　usual；〃　Ariel　Solares　said。　〃Actually；　I　wish　to　understand　the　porteno。　I　e　to　Buenos　Aires　to　soak　up　the　air　of　the　mythical　yesterday。〃　He　took　a　deep　breath；　let　it　out。　〃Can　you　not　smell　it；　perfuming　the　air　like　a　rose？〃　He　shrugged。　〃My　own　past…my　whole　life　up　until　now…could　not　be　more　prosaic；　so　I　visit　Buenos　Aires　to　let　this　city　touch　me；　perhaps　in　some　way　to　change　me。''
　〃Nonsense；〃　Estilo　said。　〃You　e　here　to　do　business。〃　But　Tori　could　see　that　he　was　impressed　with　what　Ariel　had　said。　Estilo；　like　all　portenos；　was　drawn　to　myth　and　all　its　fascinating　ramifications。　For　him；　ancient　gods　dwelled　in　the　rain　forests　and　in　the　Pampa；　and；　because　they　had　been　written　about；　spirits　inhabited　his　city；　sitting　like　gargoyles　upon　the　cornices　of　the　modern　buildings。　This　was　the　power　of　myth。
　〃You　speak　of　Buenos　Aires　as　if　it　were　Lourdes；〃　Tori　said；　suddenly　wanting　to　draw　Ariel　out。　〃As　if　it　had　mystical　healing　powers。〃　It　did　for　her；　why　not　for　him？
　Ariel　Solares　cocked　his　head。　〃Well；　I　never　thought　of　it　in　just　that　way；　but　perhaps　there　is　some　truth　in　what　you　say。　But　'healing；'　I　don't　know　whether　that　is　quite　the　correct　word。　I　am　not　sick；　merely　bored。〃
　〃But；　my　friend；　surely　boredom　is　a　form　of　sickness；〃　Estilo　said；　his　gaze　swinging　from　Ariel　to　Tori。　〃A　person…all　people…need　a　purpose。　Without　one；　life　bees　meaningless；　and　further　sickness…of　a　deeper；　more　serious　nature…will　surely　follow。〃
　Now　Tori　knew　that　Estilo　was　speaking　directly　to　her；　and　she　averted　her　eyes。　The　tango　music；　drifting　along　the　avenue；　had　turned　bitter；　introspective；　a　harbinger　of　the　last　burst　of　violence　and　fury　that　was；　inevitably；　to　e。
　〃I'm　quite　all　right；〃　Tori　said　softly；　not　looking　at　either　man；　but　rather　into　the　heart　of　the　dark　tango。
　〃Of　course　you　are；　my　darling；〃　Estilo　said；　patting　her　hand　affectionately。　He　had　big　hands；　blunt　and　strong。　〃I　did　not　mean　to　infer　otherwise〃…although　Tori　knew　that　was　precisely　what　he　had　meant　to　do。　〃I　merely　assumed　your　boredom　needed　alleviating。　In　that　event；　I　would　be　delighted　if　you　joined　me　tonight　at　my　home。〃　his　mustache　arched　as　he　smiled。'　'A　very　private　party。　If　you　aren't　a　friend　of　mine；　you　aren't　ing。〃　He　paused　a　moment；　then　said；　〃Ariel　will　be　there。〃
　Tori　turned　her　head；　looked　again　at　the　younger　man；　his　skin　burnished　by　the　sun　and　the　wind。　She　could　imagine　him　riding　the　infinite　pampas　or；　bending　slightly；　his　hair　swept　back　by　the　wind　and　the　speed　of　his　mount；　swinging　a　polo　mallet　at　Palermo　Fields。　But　there　was　something　different　about　him；　he　was　not　a　typical　porteno；　or　even　trying　to　be；　and　these　things　intrigued　her。
　〃All　right；〃　Tori　said。
　〃Wonderful！〃　Estilo　beamed　at　her　as　he　rose。　〃Until　tonight；　then！〃
　For　a　moment　Ariel　sat　facing　her；　his　coffee…colored　eyes　staring　into　hers。　Then　he　took　her　hand；　kissed　it　lightly；　and　was　swept　away　by　Estilo。
　After　the　men　were　gone；　Tori　sat　and　sipped　a　brandy。　It　was；　to　her　mind；　a　melancholy　drink；　invoking　intimations　of　broken　promises；　lost　dreams；　the　ashes　of　desire。
　When　at　last　she　rose；　the　tango　had　finished　its　haunting　tale；　and　only　the　unlovely　noises　of　the　restless　city　remained。
　
　Estilo's　home　was　an　apartment　that　took　up　the　entire　top　floor　of　an　anonymous…looking　high　rise　in　the　Recoleta。　It　was　just　a　few　blocks　from　the　cemetery；　the　ne　plus　ultra　address　in　all　of　Buenos　Aires；　which　perhaps　told　you　as　much　about　the　portenos　as　you　needed　to　know：　the　dead　possessed　a　presence　that　made　them　in　some　subtle；　mystical　sense　less　dead　than　the　dead　of　other　cultures。
　The　vast　apartment　which　snaked　from　east　to　west　was　furnished　in　Italian　high　fashion；　which　was　to　say　with　equal　amounts　of　chic　and　money。　Each　piece　of　furniture　exhibited　low；　sleek　lines　and　the　distinctively　patterned　fabrics　of　Ungaro　and　Missoni。
　The　place　had　been　designed　by　Estilo's　current　thistress；　Adona；　a　stunning　black…haired　Argentine　woman　from　the　alta　sociedad…　the　cream　of　porteno　society…who；　in　some　ways；　reminded　Tori　of　herself。　She　had　wanted　more　from　her　relationship　with　Estilo；　and　had　insisted　that　he　take　her　into　me　jungles　of　South　America；　where　many　of　his　dangerous　business　dealings　took　place。　Adona　was　as　good　at　dispelling　distrust　as　she　was　at　disarming　Estilo's　enemies。
　She　was　an　unusual　hostess　in　this　snobbish　city；　for　she　genuinely　loved　people；　and　attended　to　their　individual　wants。　She　and　Tori　embraced　warmly；　in　the　manner　of　sisters　too　long　kept　apart。
　She　drew　Tori　aside。　In　the　kitchen　uniformed　servers　were　loading　chased…silver　platters；　enormous　chafing　dishes；　with　food。　Adona　ignored　these　people。
　〃You　look　tired。　Tori。〃
　〃Perhaps　I　am；　a　little。　But　if　so；　it's　only　the　fatigue　of　inaction。〃
　'　'Yes。''　Adona　nodded。'　'I　know　you　well。　You　need　passion。　Like　with　Estilo　and　me；　there　is　a　passion。　But　your　passion　is　for　what？　This　violence；　living　on　the　edge　of　the　great　abyss？''　Her　eyes　were　sad。　〃I　think　this　is　not　healthy。〃
　'　'Estilo　said　much　the　same　thing　to　me　this　afternoon。''
　Adona　smiled。　〃Estilo　is　very　fond　of　you。〃　She　laughed；　a　beautiful　musical　sound。　〃Did　you　know　that　in　the　beginning　I　was　quite　jealous　of　you？''
　〃You　had　no　reason　to　be；〃　Tori　said。
　〃Why　not？　Estilo　is　no　angel。　But　then　who　is？　Me？　Are　you？〃
　〃No；〃　Tori　said；　abruptly　thinking　of　Greg；　soaring　like　an　angel　above　Earth's　atmospheric　envelope。　And　then；　while　crawling　outside；　along　the　skin　of　his　vehicle；　something　had　punctured　his　EVA　suit；　and　all　the　oxygen　had　been　sucked　from　his　lungs。　A　matter　of　seconds；　that's　all　it　had　taken。　From　heaven　to　hell；　with　only　the　brittle　blue　starlight　for　pany。　'　'Death　by　hypoxia；''　his　death　certificate　had　read；　but　that　was　so　cold；　so　clinical。　It　had　not　described　his　iced　body；　blistered　and　bruised　beyond　recognition　by　the　cruel　vacuum　of　space。
　〃Tori。〃　Adona　was　gripping　her　arm。　〃Here；　take　some　brandy；　you've　gone　white。〃
　〃I'm　all　right。〃　But　just　the　same；　Tori　downed　the　liquor。
　Adona　shook　her　head。　〃There　was　a　time；〃　she　said；　〃when　I　longed　for　the　life　you　lead：　armed　to　the　teeth；　in　the　jungle；　me　enemy　just　ahead。　It　made　me　feel　so　。。。　I　don't　know；　alive。〃　She　took　the　empty　glass　from　Tori's　hand。　〃But　times　change；　I've　changed。　The　truth　is　that　the　only　time　I　felt　safe　was　when　I　had　a　MAC…10　in　my　hands　and　a　knife　on　my　hip。　Then　I　knew　I　was　the　equal　of　any　man…not　sexually；　and　certainly　not　emotionally。　But　still　I　felt　equal。　A　man　could　kill；　and　so　could　I。　I　was　respected；　even　at　times　deferred　to。　Then；　at　last；　there　was　no　difference　between　us。　You　understand。〃
　Tori　looked　at　her。　〃What　changed？〃
　Adona　shrugged。　〃The　world　turns　on　its　axis；　the　seasons　change；　day　into　night。　Who　really　can　say　with　certainty？　But　I　suspect　that　I　have　found　that　whatever　I　was　reaching　for　is　nonexistent　or；　at　least；　illusory。　I　feel　as