p&c.brimstone-第71部分

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　But　it　was　too　late。　There；　in　front　of　them　on　the　wall；　dark　figures　were　mounting；　blocking　the　way。　Lights　shone　in　their　direction。　D'Agosta　and　Pendergast　dove　to　the　rubble；　flattening　themselves。　
　〃Non　sparate！〃　someone　shouted　again。　〃Do　not　shoot！〃　
　From　behind；　D'Agosta　saw　that　a　second　group　had　surmounted　the　wall。　They　were　surrounded。　D'Agosta　lay　huddled　in　a　pool　of　brilliant　light；　feeling　exposed；　naked。　
　〃Eccoli！There　they　are！〃　
　〃Hold　your　fire！〃　
　And　then　a　voice…quiet　and　reasonable…said：　
　〃You　may　both　stand　up　now　and　surrender。　Or　we　will　kill　you。　Your　choice。〃　
　　　
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　Locke　Bullard　stared　across　the　table　at　the　two　men　shackled　to　the　wall。　Two　sons　of　bitches　dressed　in　black　special…ops　outfits。　They　were　Americans；　that　much　was　clear；　probably　CIA。　
　He　turned　to　his　security　chief。　〃Wipe　the　paint　off　their　faces。　Let's　see　who　they　are。〃　
　The　man　pulled　out　a　handkerchief　and　brusquely　wiped　off　the　paint。　
　Bullard　could　hardly　believe　his　eyes。　They　were　the　two　people　he　least　expected：　the　police　sergeant　from　Long　Island　and　Pendergast；　the　FBI　special　agent。　Immediately；　he　realized　Vasquez　had　failed。　Or　more　likely；　run　off　with　the　money。　Unbelievable。　Yet　even　without　Vasquez；　it　stunned　Bullard　to　think　these　two　had　somehow　followed　him　to　Italy　and　managed　to　break　through　several　layers　of　security　at　the　lab。　He　kept　underestimating　them；　again　and　again。　He　had　to　get　out　of　that　habit。　These　two　were　formidable。　And　that's　exactly　what　he　didn't　need。　He　had　something　a　lot　more　important　to　do　than　mess　around　with　these　two。　
　He　turned　to　the　security　director。　〃What　happened？〃　
　〃They　penetrated　outer　security　at　the　old　railroad　grade；　made　it　as　far　as　the　second　ring。　They　tripped　the　laser　grid　at　the　inner　field。〃　
　〃You　found　out　what　they're　after？　What　they　heard？〃　
　〃They　heard　nothing；　sir。　They　got　nothing。〃　
　〃You　sure　they　never　made　it　past　the　second　ring？〃　
　〃Absolutely；　sir。〃　
　〃Any　m　devices　on　them？〃　
　〃No；　sir。　And　none　dropped。　They　came　in　deaf　and　dumb。〃　
　Bullard　nodded；　his　shock　slowly　giving　way　to　rage。　These　two　had　insulted　him。　They'ddamaged　him。　
　He　cast　his　eye　toward　the　fat　one；　who…as　it　happened…didn't　look　quite　so　fat　anymore。　〃Hey；　D'Agosta；　you　shed　a　few　pounds？　How's　the　hard…on　problem？〃　
　No　answer。　The　fuck　was　looking　at　him　with　hatred。　Good。　Let　him　hate。　
　〃And　the　not…so…special　agent。　If　that's　what　you　really　are。　Want　to　tell　me　what　you're　doing　here？〃　
　No　response。　
　〃Didn't　get　jack　shit；　did　you？〃　
　This　was　a　waste　of　time。　They　hadn't　penetrated　the　second；　let　alone　the　third；　ring　of　security；　which　meant　they　couldn't　have　learned　anything　of　value。　Best　thing　now　was　to　get　rid　of　them。　Sure；　the　feds　would　be　all　over　the　place　tomorrow；　but　this　was　Italy；　and　he　had　friends　in　the　Questura。　He　had　five　hundred　acres　in　which　to　hide　the　bodies。　They　wouldn't　find　shit。　
　One　hand　was　in　his　trouser　pocket；　rolling　around　some　euros。　The　hand　fell　on　his　pocketknife。　He　removed　it；　opened　the　nail　file；　began　idly　cleaning　his　nails。　Without　looking　up；　he　asked：　〃Wife　still　doing　the　RV　salesman；　D'Agosta？〃　
　〃You're　a　Johnny…one…note；　you　know　that；　Bullard？　Makes　me　think　you've　had　some　problems　along　those　lines　yourself。〃　
　Bullard　felt　a　surge　of　rage；　which　he　quickly　mastered。　He　was　going　to　kill　them；　but　first　D'Agosta　was　going　to　pay　a　little。　He　continued　with　his　nails。　
　〃Your　hit　man　fucked　up；〃　D'Agosta　went　on。　〃Too　bad；　him　going　the　cyanide　highway　before　he　could　implicate　you。　We'll　still　see　you　get　stuck　with　a　conspiracy　rap；　though。　You'll　do　hard　time。　Hear　me；　Bullard？　And　once　you're　safely　in　the　Big　House；　I'll　personally　make　sure　somebody　makes　you　his　number　one　bitch。　Oh；　you'll　make　some　skinhead　a　nice　punk；　Bullard。〃　
　It　was　only　through　long　practice　that　Bullard　managed　to　keep　his　posure。　So　Vasquez　hadn't　run　off　with　the　money。　He'd　taken　the　job　and　failed。　Somehow；　he'd　failed。　
　He　reminded　himself　it　hardly　mattered　now。　
　He　examined　his　work；　closed　the　nail　file；　opened　the　long　blade。　He　kept　it　razor…sharp　for　occasions　just　like　this　one。　Who　knew：　he　might　even　get　some　information。　
　He　turned　to　one　of　his　assistants。　〃Put　his　right　hand　on　the　table。〃　
　While　one　guard　grabbed　D'Agosta's　face　in　a　meaty　paw　and　slammed　it　back　against　the　wall；　the　other　unmanacled　one　hand；　jerked　it　forward；　and　pinned　it　to　the　table。　The　cop　struggled　briefly。　
　Bullard　eyed　the　class　ring　on　the　hand。　Some　shitty　P。S。　in　Queens；　probably。　〃Play　the　piano；　D'Agosta？〃　
　No　answer。　
　He　swiped　the　knife　down　across　D'Agosta's　right　middle　fingernail；　splitting　the　tip　of　the　finger。　
　D'Agosta　jerked；　gasped；　pulling　his　finger　free。　Blood　welled　out　from　the　wound：　slowly　at　first；　then　faster。　The　man　struggled　wildly；　but　the　guards　regained　a　lock　on　him。　Slowly；　they　forced　the　hand　back　into　position　against　the　table。　
　Bullard　felt　a　flush　of　excitement。　
　〃Son　of　abitch　！〃　D'Agosta　groaned。　
　〃You　know　what？〃　Bullard　said。　〃I　like　this。　I　could　do　this　all　night。〃　
　D'Agosta　struggled　against　the　guards。　
　〃You're　CIA；　aren't　you？〃　
　D'Agosta　groaned　again。　
　〃Answer　me。〃　
　〃No；　for　chrissakes。〃　
　〃You。〃　He　turned　to　Pendergast。　〃CIA？　Answer　me。　Yes　or　no？〃　
　〃No。　And　you're　making　an　even　larger　mistake　than　you　made　earlier。〃　
　〃Sure　I　am。〃　Why　was　he　bothering？　And　what　difference　did　it　make？　These　were　the　bastards　who　had　humiliated　him　in　front　of　the　whole　city。　He　felt　rage　seize　him　again；　and…more　carefully　now…he　took　the　knife　and　sliced　it　hard　across　the　table；　taking　the　tip　off　D'Agosta's　already　damaged　finger。　
　〃Fuck！〃D'Agosta　screamed。　〃Youbastard　！〃　
　Bullard　stepped　back；　breathing　hard。　His　palms　were　sweating；　he　wiped　them　on　the　sleeve　of　his　jacket；　took　a　fresh　grip　on　the　knife。　Then　he　caught　sight　of　the　wall　clock。　It　was　already　close　to　two。　He　couldn't　let　himself　get　caught　up　in　a　minor　distraction。　He　had　something　more　important　to　do　before　dawn。　Something　much；much　more　important。　
　He　turned　back　to　his　security　chief。　〃Kill　them。　Then　get　rid　of　the　bodies。　Dump　their　weapons　with　them。　Do　it　over　at　the　old　shafts。　I　don't　want　any　forensics　left　on　the　premises；　especially　not　around　the　lab。　You　know　what　I　mean：　hair；　blood；　anything　with　DNA。　Don't　even　let　them　spit。〃　
　〃Yes；　sir。〃　
　〃You…；〃　began　Pendergast；　but　Bullard　spun　around　and　landed　a　massive　uppercut　in　his　stomach。　Pendergast　doubled　over。　
　〃Gag　them。　Gag　them　both。〃　
　The　security　men　rammed　balls　of　cloth　into　their　mouths；　then　bound　them　tightly　with　duct　tape。　
　〃Blindfold　them；　too。〃　
　〃Yes；　Mr。　Bullard。〃　
　Bullard　looked　at　D'Agosta。　〃Remember　how　I　promised　to　pay　you　back？　Now　your　finger's　as　short　as　your　dick。〃　
　D'Agosta　struggled；　making　inarticulate　sounds　as　the　blindfold　went　on。　
　Bullard　turned　to　his　assistant；　nodded　at　the　table。　〃Clean　up　that　mess。　And　then　get　the　hell　out　of　here。〃　
　　　
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　Gagged　and　blindfolded；　hands　cuffed　behind　his　back；　D'Agosta　was　herded　along　by　one　of　the　two　security　men。　He　could　hear　the　chink　of　Pendergast's　shackles　beside　him。　They　were　moving　through　what　seemed　a　long；　damp　underground　passageway：　the　air　stank　of　fungus；　and　he　could　feel　the　chill　humidity　soaking　into　his　clothes。　Or　maybe　it　was　his　own　sweat。　His　middle　finger　felt　like　it　had　been　dipped　in　molten　lead。　It　was　pulsing　in　time　to　his　heartbeat；　the　blood　running　freely　down　the　small　of　his　back。　
　There　was　something　unreal　about　the　whole　situation。　At　any　other　time；　the　thought　he'd　just　lost　the　end　of　a　finger　would　be　all…consuming。　Yet　right　now　only　the　pain　itself　registered。　Everything　had　happened　so　quickly。　Just　hours　before；　he'd　been　relaxing　in　a　luxurious　suite。　Just　a　few　hours　before；　he'd　been　almost　tearful　at　seeing　his　own　native　land　at　long　last。　And　now　here　he　was…a　dirty　cloth　stuffed　in　his　mouth；　his　eyes　blindfolded；　arms　bound；　being　led　to　an　execution…style　death。　
　He　couldn't　really　believe　he　was　about　to　die。　And　yet　tha