thedestroyer.deathcheck-第24部分

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anitarium　to　begin　training　that　would　never　end；　MacCleary　who　had　made　the　incredibly　stupid　mistake　of　being　vulnerable；　MacCleary；　who　being　vulnerable；　had　to　be　killed。
　MacCleary。　Remo　Williams'　first　assignment　and　the　only　one　he　was　unable　to　plete。　MacCleary　who　had　wound　up　doing　Remo's　job　by　using　his　hooked　arm　to　rip　tubings　from　his　own　throat　in　a　hospital　bed。　MacCleary；　the　stupid　bastard　who　believed　that　it　was　right　to　die　for　a　tomorrow　where　his　type　would　not　be　needed。　MacCleary；　who　by　his　death；　had　sealed　Remo　Williams　into　his　new　life　just　as　surely　as　if　the　bandages　covering　his　fatal　wounds　now　bound　Remo。
　Remo　Williams　who　had　not　missed　an　assignment　since。　Remo　Williams。　Who　if　Dial…a…Prayer　in　Chicago　should　have　said　something　from　Deuteronomy　that　noon；　would　have　visited　that　night　with　Deborah；　taken　her　on　a　quiet　walk。　And　killed　her。
　But　the　good　Reverend　had　not　read　from　Deuteronomy　and　Smith　had　given　him　a　day　off；　a　day　from　peak。　And　it　was　the　good　warm　August　of　Virginia。　He　would　spend　tomorrow　with　Deborah；　and　he　would　make　a　beautiful　day。　It　was　more　than　many　people　had。
　But　then　Dr。　Nils　Brewster　found　the　body　of　Dr。　James　Ratchett。
　
　CHAPTER　NINETEEN
　
　Dr。　James　Ratchett　had　always　imagined　Ms　death　would　be　a　dramatic　affair。
　In　his　youth；　he　had　visions　of　stark　white　hospital　beds　where　he　forgave　people。　Dying；　he　forgave　his　parents；　then　his　sister。　Sometimes　he　would　fantasize　dying　with　a　curse；　ripping　out　the　tubing　from　his　swollen　arm　and　refusing　life。
　His　mother　would　promptly　slash　her　wrists；　his　sister　would　carry　an　indelible　wound　for　life。　And　his　father？　Damn　his　father。　Even　in　fantasies；　he　could　not　imagine　his　father　being　very　interested　in　anything　James　did。　Even　in　fantasy；　his　father　would　be　telephoned　at　his　Wall　Street　office；　the　message　taken　by　his　trim；　attractive　secretary。　She　would　tell　him　at　6：30　that　night　over　cocktails；　before　retiring　to　their　apartment。
　〃Ripped　it　out　of　his　arm；　you　say？；〃　his　father　would　ask。　〃Cursed　me　on　his　death　bed？　Hmmm。　Never　knew　little　James　had　it　in　him。〃
　James　was　nine　when　he　had　these　fantasies。　When　he　was　fourteen；　he　had　different　fantasies。　It　was　his　father　in　a　hospital　bed；　and　James　was　ripping　the　tubing　from　his　father's　arm；　because　he　had　just　realized　what　a　filthy；　hairy；　grotesque　pig　he　was。
　At　fourteen；　James　had　made　concoctions。　He　would　give　them　to　friends。　He　once　gave　a　concoction　to　a　neighbor's　boy；　five　years　younger　than　he。　The　boy　was　in　a　a　for　three　days　and　James　was　sent　where　people　made　sure　you　didn't　brew　poisons　for　younger　boys　to　drink。
　They　sent　him　to　the　Bilsey　School；　Dorchester；　England；　where　proper　young　English　gentlemen　went　…through　a　homosexual　phase。　For　James；　it　was　not　a　phase。　Denied　chemical　equipment　and　chemicals；　he　devoted　himself　to　theorizing　about　them。　He　continued　this　at　Rensselaer　Polytechnic　Institute　in　upstate　New　York　where　he；　had　all　the　equipment　he　needed；　but　remained　addicted　to　theory；　it　being　so　much　cleaner　and　neater。
　He　received　a　science　degree　from　Harvard　and　a　doctorate　in　theoretical　chemistry　from　M。I。T。　His　senior　thesis　won　him　international　fame　and　his　evening　activities　earned　him　three　suspended　sentences　for　contributing　to　the　delinquency　of　minors。　To　get　the　last　two　sentences　suspended　was　extremely　expensive；　exhausting　his　inheritance。　This　meant　he　could　not　continue　toward　his　doctorate　in　mathematics。　He　would　have　to　teach。　Teaching　meant　constantly　dealing　with　people；　perhaps　as　much　as　five　hours　a　week。
　Then　came　Brewster　Forum。　He　could　design　his　own　cottage。　Of　course；　Dr。　Brewster　understood　how　people's　tastes　varied　and　why　not　be　sensible？　And　Dr。　James　Ratchett　found　a　home；　and　sometimes　even　an　audience　for　his　hypnotism　which　he　had　learned　as　a　child　under　the　mistaken　impression　that　it　would　guarantee　him　endless　lovers。
　But　the　hypnotism　of　the　night　before　had　left　a　malignant；　gnawing　remembrance　of　something　just　about　to　be　remembered；　but　reluctant　to　e　forward。　It　was　a　cry　of　ready　or　not；　here　I　e；　and　then　nothing　came。
　So。　He　would　wrestle　it　away　from　his　memory。　To　do　so；　one　must　be　prepared。　You　do　not　grab　a　thought　like　a　little　boy's　neck。　You　tease　it；　coax　it。　Ignore　it。　You　make　yourself　very　fortable　without　it　and　then　it　jumps　forward　to　join　the　party。
　Dr。　James　Ratchett　undressed　and　left　his　clothes　outside　his　very　special　room。　It　was　a　masterpiece　of　engineering；　that　room；　a　white　bowl　shape；　upholstered　all　around　with　white　vinyl；　over　a　layer　of　water　that　cushioned　the　floors　and　the　rounded　walls　as　high　up　as　a　man　could　reach。　Ratchett's　acquaintances　called　it　his　womb…room　but　he　thought　of　it　as　his　den。
　Into　the　room；　he　had　brought　his　pipe　with　a　sliver　of　hashish。　The　pipe　lit　when　he　pressed　a　button；　and　Ratchett　brought　the　smoke　deep　down　into　his　lungs　and　held　his　breath。　He　became　aware　of　his　limbs：　how　distant　they　were　and　how　he　was　holding　his　breath。　He　was　holding　his　breath　forever　and　his　head　felt　nothing。　Nothing　was　what　he　felt　in　his　head　and　he　just　let　the　air　out　because　he　felt　like　it。　But　he　didn't　have　to。　He　could　have　held　the　air　in　for　hours。　Yes。　And　deep　in　again。　My；　so　cool　it　was。　He　listened　to　the　coolness　of　the　room　and　felt　the　vinyl　on　the　ceiling　with　his　eyes　and　suddenly　his　white　womb　was　very　funny。　Here　he　was　in　a　water　mish…mesh。
　〃Mish…mesh；〃　he　said　and　laughed　hysterically。　〃Mish…mesh；〃　he　said　again；　wishing　he　had　someone　in　the　room　who　could　appreciate　the　humor　of　the　joke。
　
　And　the　vinyl　covered　door　opened。　And　that　was　a　woman。　Yes。　Really　a　woman。　Perhaps　she　had　e　for　a　drag。　Perhaps　he　would　offer　her　some。　But　he　would　not　talk　to　her　at　all。　No　talking。
　Oh；　she　was　undressed　too；　and　she　carried　a　whip　and　where　he　had　a　thing；　she　just　had　a　brownish…blond　blotch。　He　would　show　her。　He　would　not　get　an　erection。　He　never　could。　But　then　she　was　doing　something　and　he　had　something。　And　then　he　took　another　drag；　and　then。。。。　Cut。　A　scream。　Rip。
　Dr。　James　Ratchett　grabbed　at　his　stinging　numb　groin　and　nothing　was　there　but　warm　wet　blood；　gushing　wet　blood；　splattering　around　him　on　the　white　vinyl；　making　standing　slippery；　and　he　fell；　and　grabbed　desperately　looking　for　something　to　stop　the　blood。
　〃Oooh；　oooh；〃　the　cries　came　out　of　his　lungs；　as　he　slithered　around　his　room；　toward　the　door。　Reach　it。　Out。　Help。　But　it　was　locked；　and　Dr。　James　Ratchett　slid　back　toward　the　center　of　the　room　and　found　he　could　not　even　bite　his　way　out；　as　he　chewed　into　the　vinyl　harder　and　harder；　and　then　his　teeth　tore　a　hole　in　the　vinyl；　and　water　spilled　in；　mixing　with　his　blood；　and　he　sloshed　around　in　the　pink　puddle；　in　the　agony　of　red　death。
　And　then　he　remembered　where　he　saw　her　and　who　had　taken　the　pictures　and　why　she　had　now　killed　him。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY
　
　Nils　Brewster　was　in　a　sweat。　His　tumbleweed　hair　was　matted　with　moisture。　His　arms　flailed　and　his　mouth　moved　violently　as　it　shrieked　out　sounds　at　Remo。　He　had　stopped　Remo　on　the　gravel　driveway　near　Deborah's　cottage　just　as　the　sun　moved　overhead　into　noon。　It　was　Remo's　day　off　peak。
　〃Oooh。　Oooh。　Oho；〃　said　the　world's　foremost　authority　on　the　dynamics　of　hostility；　the　man　who　had　written　what　many　considered　to　be　the　definitive　work　on　mass　murder。　〃Uh。。。　uh。。。　uh；〃　he　added；　and　then　collapsed　at　Remo's　feet。
　It　was　panic　all　right。　Remo　knelt　down　and　let　Brewster　recover。　There　was　no　danger　of　shock。
　Soon　Brewster　opened　his　eyes。　〃Ratchett。　Oooh。　Ahhh。　Oho。〃
　It　would　be　no　use　to　tell　Brewster　to　calm　down。　Only　idiots　offered　that　sort　of　advice　to　panicky　people。　To　tell　someone　to　calm　down　when　he　was　panicked　was　to　tell　him　that　you　were　not　aware　of　the　seriousness　of　the
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　situation。　That　the　situation　could　not　be　improved　by　panic　was　of　little　import。　The　person　had　something　so　awesome　to　convey　that　he　was　unable　to　convey　it。　To　keep　your　head　while　he　lost　his　only　let　him　know　that　he　was　not　getting　through　to　you；　and　made　him　try　even　harder　with　less　success