p&c.brimstone-第104部分

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　Fosco　ran　a　hand　over　his　device；　then　laid　it　on　the　table　next　to　him。　〃As　you　know；　Mr。　Pendergast；　I'm　a　tinkerer。　I　love　a　challenge。　It's　quite　simple　to　build　a　microwave　transmitter　that　would　deliver　the　necessary　wattage。　The　problem　was　the　power　supply。　But　I。　G。　Farben；　a　German　pany　which　my　family　was　connected　with　during　the　War；　makes　a　marvelous　bination　of　capacitor　and　battery　capable　of　delivering　the　requisite　charge。〃　
　D'Agosta　glanced　at　the　microwave　device。　It　looked　almost　silly；　like　a　cheap　prop　to　an　old　science　fiction　movie。　
　〃It　would　never　work　as　a　weapon　of　war：　the　top　theoretical　range　is　less　than　twenty　feet；　and　it　takes　time　to　do　its　work。　But　it　suited　my　purposes　perfectly。　I　had　quite　a　time　working　out　the　kinks。　Many　pumpkins　were　sacrificed；　Sergeant　D'Agosta。　At　last；　I　tested　it　on　that　old　pedophile　in　Pistoia…the　one　whose　tomb　you　examined。　There　was　a　bit　of　a　meltdown…the　human　body　takes　a　lot　more　heating　than　a　pumpkin。　I　rebuilt　the　device　with　improvements　and　used　it　more　successfully　on　the　terrorized　Grove。　It　wasn't　quite　enough　to　set　the　man　on　fire；　but　it　did　the　job。　Then　I　arranged　the　scene　to　my　satisfaction；　packed　up；　and　left；　locking　everything　and　turning　the　alarm　back　on。　With　Cutforth　it　was　even　simpler。　As　I　said；　my　man　Pinketts　had　rented　the　apartment　next　door　and　was　undertaking　'renovations。'　He　made　a　marvelous　elderly　English　gentleman；　poor　man；　all　bent　over　and　muffled　up　against　the　chill。〃　
　〃That　explains　why　they　couldn't　identify　a　suspect　from　the　security　video　cams；〃　D'Agosta　said。　
　〃Pinketts　used　to　be　in　the　theater；　which　frequently　es　in　handy　for　my　purposes。　In　any　case；　the　weapon　works　beautifully　through　walls　made　of　drywall　and　wooden　studs。　Microwaves；　my　dear　Pendergast；　have　the　marvelous　property　of　penetrating　drywall　like　light　through　glass；　as　long　as　there　is　no　moisture　or　metal。　There　could　of　course　be　no　metal　nails　in　the　wall　between　the　two　apartments；　because　metal　absorbs　microwaves　and　would　heat　up　and　cause　a　fire。　So　Pinketts　opened　our　side　of　the　wall；　removed　the　nails；　and　replaced　them　with　wooden　dowels。　When　it　was　all　over；　he　put　our　side　of　the　wall　back　up。　The　whole　operation　was　disguised　as　part　of　the　remodeling　job。　Pinketts　himself　did　the　honors　on　Cutforth　while　I　was　at　the　opera　with　you。　What　better　alibi　than　to　contrive　to　spend　the　evening　of　the　murder　with　the　detective　himself！〃　Fosco　heaved　in　silent　mirth。　
　〃And　the　smell　of　sulfur？〃　
　〃Sulfur　burned　with　phosphorus　in　a　censer；　injected　through　the　wall　at　cracks　around　the　molding。〃　
　〃How　did　you　burn　the　images　into　the　wall？〃　
　〃The　hoofprint　in　Grove's　house　was　done　directly；　focusing　the　microwave。　The　image　in　Cutforth's　apartment　had　to　be　done　indirectly…Pinketts　couldn't　get　into　the　apartment…by　focusing　the　device　against　a　mask。　That　was　a　little　trickier；　but　it　worked。　Burned　the　image　right　through　the　wall。　Brilliant；　don't　you　think？〃　
　〃You're　sick；〃　said　D'Agosta。　
　〃I　am　a　tinkerer。　I　like　nothing　more　than　solving　tricky　little　problems。〃　He　grinned　horribly　and　picked　up　the　device。　〃Now　please　stand　back。　I　need　to　adjust　the　range　of　the　beam。　It　wouldn't　do　to　scorch　us　as　well　as　the　pumpkin。〃　
　Fosco　raised　the　ungainly　thing；　slid　its　leather　strap　over　his　shoulder；　aimed　it　at　the　pumpkin；　adjusted　some　knobs。　Then　he　pressed　a　rudimentary　kind　of　trigger。　D'Agosta　stared　in　horrified　fascination。　There　was　a　humming　noise　in　the　capacitor…that　was　all。　
　〃Right　now　the　device　is　working　up　from　its　lowest　setting。　If　that　pumpkin　were　our　victim；　he　would　begin　to　experience　a　most　awful　crawling　sensation　in　his　guts　and　over　his　skin　about　now。〃　
　The　pumpkin　remained　unaffected。　Fosco　turned　a　knob；　and　the　humming　went　up　a　notch。　
　〃Now　our　victim　is　screaming。　The　crawling　sensation　has　gotten　unbearable。　I　imagine　it's　like　a　stomach　full　of　wasps；　stinging　endlessly。　His　skin；　too；　would　start　to　dry　and　blister。　The　rising　heat　within　his　muscles　would　soon　cause　the　neurons　to　begin　firing；　jerking　his　limbs　spasmodically；　causing　him　to　fall　down　and　go　into　convulsions。　His　internal　temperature　is　soaring。　Within　a　few　more　seconds　he'll　be　thrashing　on　the　ground；　biting　off　or　swallowing　his　tongue。〃　
　Another　tick　of　the　dial。　Now　a　small　blister　appeared　on　the　skin　of　the　pumpkin。　It　seemed　to　soften；　sag　a　bit。　A　soft　pop；　and　the　pumpkin　split　open　from　top　to　bottom；　issuing　a　spurt　of　steam。　
　〃Now　our　victim　is　unconscious；　seconds　from　death。〃　
　There　was　a　muffled　boiling　sound　inside　the　pumpkin；　and　the　fissure　widened。　With　a　sudden　wet　noise；　a　jet　of　orange　slime　forced　itself　from　the　split；　oozing　over　the　floor　in　steaming　rivulets。　
　〃No　ment　necessary。　By　now；　our　victim　is　dead。　The　interesting　part；　however；　is　yet　to　e。〃　
　Blisters　began　swelling　all　over　the　surface　of　the　pumpkin；　some　popping　with　little　puffs　of　steam；　others　breaking　and　weeping　orange　fluid。　
　Another　tick　of　the　dial。　
　The　pumpkin　split　afresh；　with　a　second　rush　of　boiling　pulp　and　seeds　squeezing　out　in　a　hot　viscous　paste。　The　pumpkin　sagged　further　and　darkened；　the　stem　blackening　and　smoking；　more　fluid　and　seeds　oozed　from　the　cracks　along　with　jets　of　steam。　And　then　suddenly；　with　a　sharp　popping　sound；　the　seeds　began　to　explode。　The　pumpkin　seemed　to　harden；　the　room　filling　with　the　smell　of　burned　pumpkin　flesh；　then；　with　a　suddenpaff！　；　it　burst　into　flame。　
　〃Ecco！The　deed　is　done。　Our　victim　is　on　fire。　And　yet；　if　you　were　to　place　your　hand　on　the　stone　next　to　the　pumpkin；　you　would　find　it　barely　warm　to　the　touch。〃　
　Fosco　lowered　the　device。　The　pumpkin　continued　to　smolder；　a　flame　licking　the　stem；　sizzling　and　crackling　as　it　burned；　a　foul　black　smoke　rising　slowly。　
　〃Pinketts？〃　
　The　servant；　without　missing　a　beat；　picked　up　a　bottle　ofacqua　minerale　from　the　dinner　table　and　poured　it　over　the　pumpkin。　Then　he　gave　the　bubbling　remains　a　deft　kick　into　the　fire；　heaped　on　a　few　more　sticks；　and　retired　again　to　the　corner。　
　〃Marvelous；　don't　you　think？　And　yet　it's　much　more　dramatic　with　a　human　body；　I　can　assure　you。〃　
　〃You're　one　sick　fuck；　you　know　that？〃　said　D'Agosta。　
　〃This　man　of　yours；　Pendergast；　is　beginning　to　annoy　me。〃　
　〃Clearly　a　man　of　many　virtues；〃　Pendergast　replied。　〃But　I　think　this　has　gone　on　long　enough。　It　is　time　for　us　to　get　to　the　remaining　business　at　hand。〃　
　〃Quite；　quite。〃　
　〃I　have　e　here　to　offer　you　a　deal。〃　
　〃Naturally。〃　Fosco's　lip　curled　cynically。　
　Pendergast　glanced　at　the　count　a　moment；　his　looks　unreadable；　letting　the　silence　build。　〃You　will　write　out　and　sign　a　confession　of　all　that　you　have　told　us　tonight；　and　you　will　give　me　that　diabolical　machine　as　proof。　I　will　escort　you　to　the　carabinieri；　who　will　arrest　you。　You　will　be　tried　for　the　murders　of　Locke　Bullard　and　Carlo　Vanni；　and　as　an　acplice　in　the　murder　of　the　priest。　Italy　has　no　death　penalty；　and　you　will　probably　be　released　in　twenty…five　years；　at　the　age　of　eighty；　to　live　the　remainder　of　your　days　in　peace　and　quiet…if　you　manage　to　survive　prison。　This　is　your　side　of　the　bargain。〃　
　Fosco　listened；　an　incredulous　smile　developing　on　his　face。　〃Is　that　all？　And　what　will　you　give　me　in　exchange？〃　
　〃Your　life。〃　
　〃I　wasn't　aware　my　life　was　in　your　hands；　Mr。　Pendergast。　It　seems　to　me　it's　the　other　way　around。〃　
　D'Agosta　saw　a　movement　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye。　Pinketts　had　withdrawn　a　9mm　Beretta　and　had　it　trained　on　them。　D'Agosta's　hand　moved　toward　his　own　weapon；　unstrapped　the　keeper。　
　Pendergast　stopped　him　with　a　shake　of　his　head。　Then　he　removed　an　envelope　from　his　pocket。　〃A　letter　identical　to　this　one　has　been　placed　with　Prince　Corso　Maffei；　to　be　opened　in　twenty…four　hours　if　I　have　not　returned　to　reclaim　it。〃　
　At　the　name　of　Maffei；　Fosco　paled。　
　〃You　are　a　member　of　the　secret　society　known　as　the　itatus　Decimus；　the　pany　of　Ten。　As　a　member　of　this　society；　which　dates　back　to　the　Middle　Ages；　you　inherited　and　were　entrusted　with　certain　documents；　formulas；　and　manuscripts。　You　abused　that　trust；　in　p