p&c.brimstone-第33部分

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　〃I　want　my　lawyer。〃　
　〃Naturally。　We're　going　to　take　you　to　One　Police　Plaza　and　question　you　under　oath。　You　may　have　a　lawyer　present　at　that　time。〃　
　〃I'm　calling　my　lawyer　now。〃　
　〃You　willremain　in　the　center　of　the　room　with　your　hands　in　view　at　all　times。　You　do　not　have　a　right　to　call　a　lawyer　just　because　you　feel　like　it。　When　appropriate；　you　will　bepermitted　to　call。〃　
　〃My　ass。　You　have　no　jurisdiction。　I'll　pull　your　badge　and　eat　you　for　lunch；　you　albino　prick。　You　have　no　idea　who　you're　dealing　with。〃　
　〃I　am　sure　your　lawyer　would　advise　you　to　dispense　with　the　small　talk。〃　
　〃I'm　not　going　to　One　Police　Plaza。〃　
　Pendergast　unclipped　his　police　radio。　〃Manhattan　South？　To　whom　am　I　speaking；　please？　Shirley？　This　is　Special　Agent　Pendergast　of　the　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。　I'm　at　the　East　Cove　Yacht　Harbor；　on　the　yacht　of　Mr。　Locke　Bullard…〃　
　〃You　shut　that　radio　off　right　now。〃　
　Pendergast's　smooth　voice　continued。　〃That's　right；　Locke　Bullard；　on　his　yacht；　theStormcloud　。　We're　taking　him　in　for　questioning　in　the　Grove　and　Cutforth　murder　investigations。〃　
　D'Agosta　watched　Bullard　go　white。　No　doubt　he　knew　that　every　news　organization　in　New　York　monitored　the　police　frequencies。　
　〃No；　he's　not　a　suspect。　I　repeat：not　a　suspect。〃　
　The　very　emphasis　Pendergast　placed　on　the　word　had　the　curious　effect　of　giving　precisely　the　opposite　impression。　
　Bullard　glowered　at　them　from　beneath　his　beetled；　Cro…Magnon　brow；　swallowed；　made　an　effort　to　seem　reasonable。　〃Look；　Pendergast；　there's　no　reason　to　play　tough　cop。〃　
　〃Shirley；　we're　going　to　need　backup；　crowd　control；　and　a　squad　car　with　escort　to　take　Mr。　Bullard　downtown。　That's　right。　Three　should　do　it。　On　second　thought；　make　it　four。　We're　dealing　with　a　well…known　personality。　It's　likely　to　get　busy。〃　
　Pendergast　slipped　the　radio　back　into　his　suit；　removed　his　cell　phone；　and　tossed　it　to　Bullard。　〃Now　you　may　call　your　lawyer。　One　Police　Plaza；　interrogation　section；　basement　floor；　in　forty　minutes。　We'll　supply　the　coffee。〃　
　〃You　prick。〃　Bullard　dialed；　spoke　in　low　tones。　When　he　was　done；　he　handed　the　phone　back　to　Pendergast。　
　〃I　imagine　he　just　told　you　what　I　already　advised：　to　keep　your　mouth　firmly　closed。〃　Pendergast　smiled。　
　Bullard　said　nothing。　
　Now　Pendergast　began　poking　around　the　grand　salon；　in　a　desultory　kind　of　way；　peeking　here　and　there；　admiring　the　sporting　prints　on　the　walls。　It　was　almost　as　if　he　was　killing　time。　
　〃Are　we　going？〃　Bullard　finally　burst　out。　
　〃He's　talking　again；〃　said　D'Agosta。　
　Pendergast　nodded　absently。　〃It　seems　our　Mr。　Bullard　is　a　man　who　doesn't　listen　to　his　minders。〃　
　Bullard　fell　silent；　his　body　shaking　with　malevolence。　
　〃I　think　we　need　more　time　in　here；　Sergeant。　Just　to　check　things　over；　you　understand。〃　
　〃Right。〃　Though　he　was　still　steaming；　D'Agosta　found　he　had　to　conceal　a　smile。　Now　he　realized　what　Pendergast　was　up　to。　
　Pendergast　continued　strolling　about　the　room；　adjusting　a　newspaper　here；　looking　at　a　framed　lithograph　there。　Ten　more　minutes　passed　as　Bullard　grew　increasingly　restive。　Now　D'Agosta　began　to　hear　faint　sirens；　the　distant　squawk　of　a　bullhorn。　Pendergast　picked　up　a　copy　ofFortune　；　flipped　through　it；　laid　it　back　down。　He　checked　his　watch。　〃Do　you　see　anything　of　interest　I　might　have　missed；　Sergeant　D'Agosta？〃　
　〃Have　you　checked　the　photo　album？〃　
　〃An　excellent　idea。〃　Pendergast　opened　the　album；　flipped　through　it。　At　a　couple　of　pages；　his　hand　paused　and　an　intent　look　came　into　his　face。　He　seemed　to　be　memorizing　faces；　at　least；　it　seemed　so　to　D'Agosta。　
　He　shut　it　with　a　sigh。　〃Shall　we；　Mr。　Bullard？〃　
　The　man　turned　and　shrugged　into　a　windbreaker；　his　face　dark。　Pendergast　led　the　way；　followed　by　Bullard。　D'Agosta　brought　up　the　rear；　battering　ram　over　his　shoulder。　As　they　stepped　out　of　the　hatch　onto　the　dock；　the　crowd　noise　increased　dramatically。　There　was　shouting；　the　whoops　of　police　sirens；　the　megaphoned　voice　of　an　official。　Beyond　the　gates；　photographers　were　jockeying　for　position。　The　police　were　struggling　to　clear　a　lane　for　their　vehicles　to　pass。　
　Seeing　this；　Bullard　stopped　short。　〃You　bastard。〃　He　almost　spat　the　words　at　Pendergast。　〃You　delayed　deliberately；　letting　this　build。〃　
　〃Why　hide　your　light　under　a　bushel；　Mr。　Bullard？〃　
　〃Yeah；〃　said　D'Agosta。　〃And　you're　going　to　look　great　on　the　cover　of　theDaily　News　with　your　windbreaker　draped　over　your　head。〃　
　　　
　24　
　
　Bryce　Harriman　headed　back　uptown　behind　the　wheel　of　aPostpress　vehicle。　The　scene　at　the　lower　Manhattan　marina　had　been　a　disaster。　Except　for　a　few　rubberneckers；　it　was　New　York　City　press　at　their　finest…swearing；　pushing；　shoving。　It　reminded　Harriman　of　the　running　of　the　bulls　at　Pamplona。　What　a　waste　of　time。　Nobody　had　answered　questions；　nobody　knew　anything；　nothing　but　chaos　and　shouting。　He　should　have　gone　straight　back　to　his　office　to　write　up　the　scene　of　Cutforth's　murder　rather　than　wasting　time　chasing　this　radio　call。　
　Ahead；　the　traffic　ing　in　from　West　Street　began　to　bunch　up。　He　cursed；　leaned　on　his　horn。　He　should've　taken　the　subway。　At　this　rate；　he　wouldn't　reach　the　office　until　after　five；　and　he　had　to　file　by　ten　to　make　the　morning　edition。　
　He　wrote　and　rewrote　the　lead；　tearing　it　up　again　and　again　in　his　head。　He　thought　back　to　the　mob　scene　in　front　of　Cutforth's　apartment　building　earlier　that　afternoon。　Those　were　the　people　he　was　writing　for：　people　desperate　for　the　story；　hungry　for　it。　And　he　had　an　open　field；　with　Smithback　gone　and　theTimes　treating　the　story　as　a　kind　of　local　embarrassment。　
　Cutforth's　murder　would　be　good　for　one　headline；　maybe　two。　But　still；　he　was　bound　by　the　whim　of　the　murderer；　and　there　was　no　way　of　telling　when…or　if…the　murderer　would　strike　again。　Hehad　to　have　something　new。　
　The　traffic　parted　slightly　and　he　switched　lanes；　flipping　a　bird　at　the　blaring　horn　behind　him；　switched　back；　risking　his　life　and　those　of　half　a　dozen　others　to　get　one　car　length　ahead。　Flipped　another　bird。　People　were　such　assholes　。　。　。　
　。　。　。　And　then　it　came　to　him。　The　fresh　angle。　What　he　needed　was　an　expert　to　explain；　to　put　it　all　in　perspective。　But　who？　Just　as　quickly　the　answer；　the　second　stroke　of　genius；　came　as　well。　
　He　picked　up　his　cell；　dialed　his　office。　〃Iris；　what's　up？〃　
　〃What's　up　yourself？〃　his　assistant　retorted。　〃I've　been　as　busy　as　a　one…legged　man　at　an　ass…kicking　contest　answering　the　phones　around　here。〃　
　Harriman　winced　at　the　jokey；　familiar　tone　she　had　taken　with　him。　He　was　supposed　to　be　the　boss；　not　the　secretary　in　the　next　cubicle。　
　〃You　want　your　messages？〃　she　asked。　
　〃No。　Listen；　I　want　you　to　get　ahold　of　somebody　for　me；　that　researcher　into　the　paranormal；　what's　his　name；　Monk；　or　Munch；　something　German。　He　had　that　Discovery　Channel　special　on　exorcism；　remember？　Yes；　that's　the　one。　No；　I　don'tcare　how　long　it　takes。　Just　get　him　for　me。〃　
　He　punched　the　call　off　and　tossed　the　phone　on　the　passenger　seat；　sat　back；　and　smiled；　letting　the　cacophony　of　honks；　toots；　and　beeps　that　surrounded　his　car　wash　over　him　like　a　symphony。　
　　　
　25　
　
　D'Agosta　had　to　admire　the　genius　that　went　into　maintainingthe　interrogation　section　of　One　Police　Plaza。　It　was　perhaps　the　last　place　you　could　smoke　in　New　York　City　without　being　arrested；　and　as　a　result；　the　painted　cinder…block　walls　sported　a　tarry；　brownish　sheen。　They　made　a　point　of　keeping　them　grimy。　The　air　was　so　dead　and　stale　it　felt　like　there　must　be　a　corpse　hidden　somewhere。　And　the　linoleum　floor　was　so　old　it　could　have　been　peeled　up　and　put　in　a　glass　case　in　the　Smithsonian。　
　D'Agosta　felt　a　certain　satisfaction　in　the　surroundings。　Locke　Bullard；　still　dressed　in　blue　warm…ups　and　deck　shoes；　sat　in　a　chair　at　the　greasy　metal　table；　his　eyes　bloodshot　with　anger。　Pendergast　sat　across　from　him；　and　D'Agosta　stood　behind；　near　the　door。　The　civilian　interrogations　administrator…a　mandatory　presence　these　days…stood　by　the　video　camera；　sucking　in　his　belly　and　trying　to　look　officious。　They　were　all　waiting