el.angeleyes-第65部分

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ell…〃
　〃Russ　。。。〃
　He　stared　at　her。　〃I　don't　care　if　he　is　in　your　debt；　thе　possibility　remains　that　if　Estilo　didn't　order　Ariel's　murder；　then　Hitasura　did。〃
　〃Let's　not　get　ahead　of　ourselves；　shall　we？〃
　Russell　could　see　she　was　angry。　He　couldn't　blame　her。　Both　Estilo　and　Hitasura　were　her　friends。　One　had　already　betrayed　her。　How　much　would　it　take　for　the　other　to　betray　her　as　well？
　Tori　stood　up。　〃Excuse　me。　I've　got　to　go　to　the　bathroom。〃
　Russell　watched　her　go　down　the　aisle。　He　wondered　why　he　could　never　win　an　argument　with　her。　Several　minutes　later　it　occurred　to　him　that　they　hadn't　had　an　argument；　merely　a　conversation。　Then　he　began　to　wonder　why　he　saw　their　conversations　as　skirmishes；　and；　worse；　why　it　was　he　found　it　necessary　to　win　them　all。
　Something　stirred　inside　him。　He　felt　again　the　torn　edges　of　the　end　of　his　life；　blood　covering　his　eyes；　the　stench　of　the　great　bull　filling　his　nostrils；　the　corrida's　red　dust　coating　his　mouth；　the　taste　of　death　choking　him。　Russell　had　already　given　himself　up　for　dead。　He　had　been　sucking　the　dust　into　his　lungs；　his　vision　clouded。　There　had　been　pain　in　his　shoulder；　his　ankle。　The　bull　was　towering　over　him；　ready　to　inflict　its　damage　on　his　body。　His　mind　could　see　it　ing。　his　death。　It　was　as　if　in　that　moment　he　had　seen　how　out　of　focus　his　life　had　been　up　to　that　point。
　He　rose；　went　down　the　aisle　to　the　door　to　the　head。　He　knocked　on　it。　〃Tori？〃
　his　hand　twisted　the　turnplate；　and　the　narrow　door　opened　inward。　He　saw　Tori　hunched　over　the　stainless　steel　John；　her　body　racked　with　dry　heaves。
　When　she　turned　to　look　at　him；　her　eyes　were　filled　with　tears。　〃Get…　Get　the　hell　out　and　leave　me　alone！〃　she　managed　to　say。
　One　of　the　Mall　flight　crew　was　ing　up　behind　him；　and　Russell　stepped　inside；　quickly　shut　the　door。
　〃Oh；　God！〃
　He　knelt　down　beside　her；　held　her　head　and　shoulders　while　the　spasms　went　on　and　on。　At　last　she　collapsed　against　him；　and　he　winced　as　pain　shot　through　the　spot　where　the　bull's　kick　had　caught　him。
　He　reached　up；　managed　to　get　a　paper　towel　soaking　wet。　He　gently　wiped　her　face；　her　lips；　her　neck。　She　used　the　water　he　gave　her　to　rinse　out　her　mouth。
　Russell　could　feel　her　heat；　her　softness；　bined　with　the　peculiar　tautness　she　possessed。　He　felt　a　stirring　inside　him；　the　accelerated　beating　of　his　heart；　and　cursed　himself　for　being　a　fool。
　How　could　he　let　this　happen？　She　was　soft　and　vulnerable；　lying　meekly　in　his　arms。　Strong；　capable　Tori　Nunn。　He　had　her　just　where　every　man　would　want　her。　But　that　wasn't　it；　not　at　all。　What　he　was　feeling　was　something　else；　something　new；　and　because　he　was　already　at　war　within　himself　as　to　the　nature　of　it；　he　was　at　a　loss　as　to　what　to　do。
　He　was　aware　of　the　cloudlike　swirl　of　her　golden　hair；　still　matted　here　and　there　with　the　blood　of　the　terrifying　beast　she　had　brought　down。　He　could　not　put　aside　me　memory　of　her　vaulting　over　the　barrier　into　the　red　dust　of　the　corrida。
　He　was　aware　of　the　delicate　curve　of　her　cheek；　so　like…yet　so　unlike…her　mother's。
　Her　lashes　fluttered　against　the　bare　flesh　at　the　hollow　of　his　throat。　Her　breathing；　the　beating　of　her　heart；　the　heat　of　the　insides　of　her　wrists　so　close　to　his　own；　merging。　He　had　seen　the　glint　of　the　long　knife　as　she　had　vaulted　atop　the　beast；　as　she　had　plunged　the　blade　with　a　matador's　unerring　skill　into　its　skull。　Jesus；　but　he　had　been　frightened。
　He　had　never　known　the　meaning　of　terror　until　that　moment。　And　something；　he　was　certain；　had　happened　to　him　then。　In　the　instant　when　he　was　showered　with　the　beast's　blood；　was　assured　of　its　death　and；　in　consequence；　the　continuation　of　his　own　life；　he　had　e　to　understand　what　ten　thousand　sleepless　hours　closeted　in　the　Mail's　operations　room　could　not　provide。
　At　last；　he　knew　what　it　meant　to　have　his　head　thrust　down　a　hole；　black；　dank；　menacing；　and　in　that　horrific　darkness；　e　face　to　face　with　himself。　So　close　to　death；　the　veneer　he　had　worked　so　assiduously　to　apply　to　his　life　had　been　stripped　away。　He　had　always　considered　that　veneer　to　be　a　perfect　confluence　of　sophistication；　urbanity；　and　cunning。　The　exact　mix　required　for　the　plex　dance　of　quid　pro　quo　the　director　of　the　Mall　was　required　to　perform。
　But　now　he　saw　that　he　could　no　longer　live　with　the　true　nature　of　the　life　he　had　built　for　himself：　the　dense　macabre；　a　malevolent　minuet　designed　and　dictated　by　Bernard　Godwin；　the　man　to　whom　he　paid　constant　homage。　The　man　who　owned　Russell　Slade　pletely。
　And　at　last　he　came　to　the　core　of　it　all：　he　had　been　certain　that　he　had　challenged　Cruz　to　prove　Bernard　Godwin　wrong；　to　prove　himself　to　Tori；　but　in　the　end　he　understood　that　he　had　faced　death　for　himself。　Because　he　could　no　longer　stand　himself；　the　old　Russell　Slade；　boy　genius；　perhaps；　but　a　man　filled　with　insecurity　at　not　being　part　of　the　veteran　network　presided　over　by　Godwin；　a　man　on　the　outside；　forever　cut　out　of　the　field　operative's　loop…isn't　that　why　he　had　been　so　intensely　jealous　of　Tori？　Yes；　Russell　Slade　had　been　just　the　man　Bernard　Godwin　could　subtly　manipulate　in　almost　any　way　he　chose。
　The　horrific　truth　was　that　by　appointing　him　director　of　the　Mall；　Godwin　had　made　it　possible　for　him　to　continue　running　his　own　agendas　while　giving　the　appearance　of　having　moved　back　into　an　advisory　capacity。　Russell　was　filled　with　shame。
　He　felt　Tori's　arms　around　him；　her　fists　clutching　him；　and　something　inside　himself　gave　way。　He　put　his　head　down；　much　as　the　beast　in　the　corrida　had　done　for　the　matador's　killing　sword；　and　his　lips　sought　hers。
　It　was　not　a　conscious　gesture。　Dazed　by　the　ramifications　of　his　revelation；　Russell　hardly　knew　what　he　was　doing。　His　lips　came　down　over　Tori's；　he　felt　hers　soften；　and　searched　for　her　tongue　with　his。
　Then　her　mouth　broke　away。　〃No；〃　she　gasped。　〃No；　please。〃　Their　eyes　locked；　and　Russell　was　shocked　not　by　how　beautiful　her　eyes　were；　but　by　how　he　had　never　really　noticed　their　beauty　before。　They　were　like　misty　jewels；　translucent；　luminous；　a　blue　that　was　not　truly　blue；　a　green　that　was　not　quite　green；　and　that　special　color　appeared　to　him　now　like　a　doorway　through　which；　more　than　anything；　he　longed　to　step。
　〃Tori…〃
　〃Russell；　I…〃
　The　moment　had　seemed　so　right；　but　now　he　recognized　how　wrong　it　had　been。　He　had　the　strong　sense　that　if　he　insisted；　she　would　give　in；　he　had　felt　her　melting　against　him。　But　if　she　did　acquiesce；　he　knew　that　he　would　never　know　why。　Was　it　vulnerability；　despair；　a　need　to　be　close　to　someone　after　two　terrible　losses？　Or　was　it　something　else；　a　feeling；　perhaps；　that　at　some　point　she　would　not　be　able　to　control？
　It　was　of　paramount　importance　for　Russell　to　know…and　for　him　to　be　assured　that　Tori；　too；　knew　what　she　wanted。　Otherwise；　what　was　the　point？
　Russell　rose；　pulled　her　to　her　feet。　He　did　not　say　he　was　sorry；　because　he　wasn't。　He　left　her　without　a　word；　went　forward　to　speak　to　the　pilot　and　go　over　their　route　to　Tokyo；　feeling　it　was　important　for　him　to　be　aware　of　these　things　in　case　anything　went　wrong　along　the　way。　He　always　liked　to　know　where　he　was。　Which　was　ironic；　considering　the　whirl　of　conflicting　emotions　flooding　him。
　When　he　returned　to　the　main　cabin；　Tori　was　back　in　her　seat。　He　ordered　sandwiches　and　hot　coffee；　and　when　they　were　served；　he　and　Tori　consumed　it　in　great　quantities　while　she　briefed　him　on　her　expertise：　the　tangle　of　modern…day　Japan。
　〃The　central　issue　in　understanding　the　Japan　of　today；〃　Tori　said；　〃is　to　keep　in　mind　that　no　one　person　is　ultimately　in　charge　of　the　country。　Absolutely　no　one　in　America　seems　to　get　this；　not　the　President；　nor　anyone　on　Capitol　Hill；　in　business；　or；　God　knows；　the　Pentagon。　They're　all　so　mystified　by　this　new　Japan　that　they　had　such　a　major　hand　in　creating；　and　so　self…righteously　pissed　off　when　nothing　much　happens　in　response　to　their　requests。
　''Putting　aside　for　the　moment　the　fact　that　they're　not　asking　the　right　questions；　what　they're　all　looking　for…and　not　finding…is　a　place　where　the　buck　stops。　The　truth　i