thedestroyer.deathcheck-第2部分

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n　wearing　a　black　cape　and　busy　stroking　away　at　a　wild…eyed；　dark…haired　woman　wearing　only　long　stockings　and　boots。
　He　looked　at　the　resume。　〃Yes；　I　thought　so。　He's　a　goddam　homosexual。　Dammit。〃　He　put　the　resume　back　in　the　envelope　and　the　pictures　back　in　their　envelopes　and　sealed　them　ah。　Then　he　spun　back　to　the　darkness　of　Long　Island　Sound。
　A　dead　operative。　Trouble　at　Brewster　Forum。　Photographs　of　a　homosexual　male　playing　with　an　obviously　naked　woman。
　Yes　or　no；　he　thought。　Remo　Williams。　The　Destroyer。　Yes　or　no。　The　decision　was　his　to　make；　the　responsibility　his　to　bear。
　He　thought　once　more　of　Peter　McCarthy　who　had　worked　for　the　past　eight　years　for　a　federal　agency　he　did　not　even　know　existed。　And　now　he　was　dead。　His　family　would　carry　forever　the　shame　of　a　man　who　died　from　a　self…inflicted　overdose　of　narcotics。　McCarthy's　country…　men　would　never　know　that　he　had　died　for　duty。　No　one　would　ever　care。　Should　a　man　be　allowed　to　die　that　gracelessly？
　Back　to　the　desk。　Press　the　missary　button。
　〃Yes　sir。　Sort　of　early　for　phoning；〃　came　the　voice。
　〃It's　late　for　me。　Tell　the　fish　man　we　need　more　abalone。〃
　〃I　think　we　still　have　some　left　in　the　freezer。〃
　〃Eat　it　yourself　if　you　want。　Just　place　the　order　for　more。〃
　〃You're　the　boss；　Doctor　Smith。〃
　〃Yes；　I　am。〃。　Harold　W。　Smith　turned　back　to　the　sound。　Abalone。　A　man　could　e　to　hate　the　smell　of　it　if　he　knew　what　it　meant。
　
　　CHAPTER　TWO
　
　His　name　was　Remo　and　the　gymnasium　was　dark　with　only　speckles　of　light　ing　from　the　ceiling…high　windows　where　minute　paint　bubbles　had　burst　shortly　after　workmen　had　applied　the　first　layer　of　black。　The　gym；　formerly　the　basketball　court　of　the　San　Francisco　Country！　Friends'　School；　had　been　built　to　catch　the　late　afternoon　j　sun　over　the　Pacific；　and　when　the　owner　was　told　by　the　prospective　tenant　that　he　would　rent　it　only　if　the　windows　were　blackened；　he　showed　some　surprise。　He　showed　more　when　told　he　was　never　to　visit　the　gym　while　the　occupant　was　there。　But　the　rent　money　was　good；　so　the　paint　went　on　the　windows　the　next　day。　And　as　the　owner　had　told　the　man：　〃I'll　stay　away。　For　that　kind　of　money；　it's　no　concern　of　mine。　Besides　what　can　you　do　in　a　gym　that　isn't　legal　nowadays。　Heh；　heh。〃
　So　naturally；　one　day　he　hid　himself　in　the　small　balcony　and　waited。　He　saw　the　door　open　and　the　tenant　e　in。　A　half　hour　later；　the　door　opened　again　and　the　tenant　was　gone。　Now　the　strange　thing　was　that　the　owner　heard　not　one　sound。　Not　the　creak　of　a　floorboard；　not　a　breath；　not　anything　but　his　own　heartbeat。　Only　the　sound　of　the　door　opening　and　the　door　closing；　and　that　was　odd　because　the　Country　Friends　School　Gym　was　a　natural　sound　conductor；　a　place　where　there　was　no　such　thing　as　a　whisper。
　The　man　named　Remo　had　known　someone　was　in　the　balcony　because；　among　other　things；　he　had　begun　that　day　working　on　sound　and　sight。　Ordinarily　the　water　pipes　and　the　insects　proved　adequate。　But　that　day　there　had　been　heavy　nervous　breathing　in。the　balcony…the　snorting　sort　of　oxygen　intake　of　overweight　people。　So　that　day　Remo　worked　on　moving　in　silence。　It　was　a　down　day　anyway；　between　two　of　the　innumerable　alert　peaks。
　Today；　on　the　other　hand；　was　an　up　peak　and　Remo　carefully　locked　the　three　doors　on　the　gym　floor　and　the　one　to　the　balcony。　He　had　been　on　alert　for　three　months　now；　ever　since　the　study　package　had　arrived　at　the　hotel。　There　were　no　explanations。　Just　the　reading　material。　This　time　it　was　Brewster　Forum；　some　sort　of　think　tank。　Some　sort　of　trouble　brewing。　But　there　had　been　no　call　yet　for　Remo。
　Remo　felt　upstairs　was　not　quite　on　top　of　things。　All　his　training　had　taught　him　you　do　not　peak　every　week。　You　build　to　a　peak。　You…plan　for　a　peak。　You　work　for　it。　To　peak　every　day　just　means　that　that　peak　gets　lower　and　lower　and　lower。
　Remo　had　been　peaking　every　day　for　three　months　now；　and　his　eyes　adjusted　to　the　darkness　of　the　gymnasium　just　a　little　less　easily。　True；　not　down　to　the　level　of　ordinary　men　or　even；　for　that　matter；　people　who　saw　well　in　the　dark。　But　he　was　less　than　he　should　be；　less　than　he　was　trained　to　be。
　
　The　gym　smelled　of　a　decade　of　dirty　socks。　The　air；　felt　dry　and　tasted　like　old　dictionaries　stored　in　late　　summer　attics。　Dust　particles　danced　in　the　minute　rays　　ing　from　the　specks　in　the　black　paint。　In　the　far　　corner　where　rotting　ropes　hung　from　the　ceiling　came　the　　buzz　of　a　fly。
　Remo　breathed；　steadily；　and　relaxed　the　centrality　of　　his　being　to　lower　the　pulse　and　expand　what　he　had　　learned　was　the　calm　within　him。　The　calm　which　the　　European　and　especially　the　American　European　had　forgotten；　or　perhaps　never　knew。　　The　calm　from　which　　came　the　personal　power　of　the　human　being…that　power　　which　had　been　surrendered　to　the　machine　which　had　　apparently　done　things　faster　and　better。　The　machine　had　　lowered　industrial　man　to　the　use　of　less　than　seven　per　
cent　of　his　abilities；　pared　to　the　nine　per　cent　average　　for　primitives。　Remo　remembered　the　lecture。 　
　At　his　peak；　Remo…who　eight　years　before　had　been　　officially　executed　in　an　electric　chair　for　a　crime　he　did　　not　mit；　only　to　be　revived　to　work　for　an　organization　that　did　not　exist…at　his　peak；　this　man　Remo　could　　use　nearly　half　the　power　of　his　muscles　and　senses。
　Forty　five　to　forty　eight　per　cent　or；　as　his　main　instructor　had　said；　〃a　moment　of　just　more　darkness　than　　light。〃　This　poetic　phrase　had　been　translated　for　upstairs　　into　a　maximum　operating　capacity　of　46。5　plus　or　minus　　1。5。
　Now　Remo　could　feel　the　dark　in　the　gym　grow　heavier　r　as　the　peak　descended　day　by　day。　One　had　to　laugh。　So　much　effort；　so　much　money；　so　much　danger　in　even　I　setting　up　the　organization；　and　now　upstairs　the　only　two　officials　in　the　country　who　knew　exactly　what　he　did　were　ruining　him。　Faster　than　Seagrams　Seven　and　Schlitz　chasers；　without　as　much　fun。　
　The　organization　was　CURE。　It　did　not　appear　in　any　government　budget　nor　in　any　report。　The　outgoing　President　verbally　told　the　next　ining　President。
　He　showed　him　the　scrambler　phone　where　he　could　reach　the　head　of　CURE；　and　then　later；　as　they　smiled　to　the　world　from　the　back　seat　of　a　limousine　headed　to　the　inauguration；　confided：
　〃Now；　don't　you　fret　none　about　that　group　I　was　tellin'　you　about　yesterday。　They　do　everything　real　quiet　and　only　two　of　'em　know　what　in　a　cow's　ass　they're　doing。
　〃It's　just　that　a　crooked　prosecutor'll　be　discovered　by　some　newspaperman　who　just　happens　to　get　some　damaging　information。　Or　some　evidence'll　turn　up　during　a　trial　and　the　D。　A。　will　win　one　that　was　going　down　the　chute。　Or　someone　who　you'd　just　never　think　would　goes　and　turns　state's　evidence　and　testifies。　It's　just　the　extra　little　edge　to　make　things　more　workable。〃
　〃I　don't　like　it；〃　whispered　the　President…elect；　flashing　his　famous'　plastic　smile　to　the　crowds…。　〃It　if　turns　out　publicly　that　the　United　States　government　is　violating　the　very　laws　that　make　it　the　United　States　government；　right　then　and　there　you　might　as　well　admit　our　form　of　government　is　inoperable。〃
　〃Well；　I　ain't　saying　nothin'？　Are　you？〃
　〃Of　course　not。〃
　〃Well；　what's　the　problem？〃
　〃I　just　don't　like　it。　How　would　I　stop　this　thing？〃
　〃You　just　make　a　phone　call　and　the　two　men　who　know　about　it　retire。〃
　〃That　phone　call　in　some　way　sets　off　something　or　someone　who　kills　them；　doesn't　it。〃
　〃I　'spect　so。　They　got　more　safeguards　on　this　thing　than　Uncle　Luke's　still。　Look；　there　are　two　things　you　can　do　with　this　group。　Let　it　do　whatever　it　does。　Or　stop　it。　That's　all。〃
　〃But　you　did　say　I　could　suggest　assignments？〃
　〃Yup。　But　they're　chock　full　anyhow。　And　anyway；　they　only　take　the　kind　of　stuff　that　either　endangers　the　constitution　or　that　the　country　can't　handle　any　other　way。　Sometimes；　it's　fun　figuring　out　just　which　things　they're　involved　in　and　which　things　they　ain't。　You　get　pretty　good　at　it　after　awhile。〃
　〃I　was　thinking　last　night　what　if　the　man　who　runs　this　group　decides　to　take　over　the　country？〃
　〃You　always　got　the　phone。〃
　〃Suppose　he　plots　the　murder　of　the　Pres