cb.damnationgame-第87章

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；　their　eyes　yellow　in　the　twilight。　He　thought　of　Bella　and　her　gleaming　family：　these　curs　hardly　seemed　of　the　same　species。　When　he　looked　their　way　they　hung　their　heads　and　watched　him　indirectly；　like　inept　spies。
　　He　went　up　to　the　main　entrance　of　the　hotel：　the　word　ORPHEUS　was　still　clearly　carved　above　the　door；　there　were　mock…Doric　columns　to　either　side　of　the　steps；　and　fancy　tilework　on　the　threshold。　But　the　door　itself　had　boards　nailed　across　it；　and　notices　warned　of　swift　prosecution　if　anyone　trespassed。　There　seemed　little　chance　of　that。　The　second…；　third…　and　fourth…story　windows　were　boarded　up　with　the　same　thoroughness　as　the　door；　those　on　the　first　floor　had　been　bricked　up　entirely。　There　was　a　door　at　the　back　of　the　building　that　was　not　boarded　up；　but　it　was　bolted　from　the　inside。　This　was　probably　where　Halifax　had　entered　the　building：　but　Whitehead　must　have　given　him　access。　Without　breaking　and　entering；　there　was　no　way　in。
　　It　was　only　on　his　second　orbit　of　the　hotel　that　he　gave　some　serious　consideration　to　the　fire　escape。　It　zigzagged　up　the　east　side　of。　the　building；　an　impressive　piece　of　wrought…iron　work　that　was　now　rusting　badly。　Further　mutilation　had　been　done　to　it　by　some　enterprising　salvage　firm；　that；　seeing　profit　in　the　scrap　metal；　had　started　to　cut　the　escape　away　from　the　wall；　only　to　give　up　on　the　job　when　it　had　reached　the　second　floor。　This　left　the　bottom　flight　missing；　the　escape's　truncated　tail　hanging　ten　or　eleven　feet　from　the　ground。　Marty　studied　the　problem。　The　fire…exit　doors　on　most　of　the　stories　had　been　nailed　up；　but　one；　on　the　fourth　story；　showed　signs　of　tampering。　Was　this　how　the　old　man　had　gained　entrance？　He　would　have　needed　help；　presumably：　Luther；　perhaps。
　　Marty　scanned　the　wall　beneath　the　fire　escape。　It　was　graffiti…strewn；　but　smooth。　There　was　no　chance　of　a　handhold　or　foothold　to　get　him　up　the　first　few　feet　and　onto　the　steps　themselves。　He　turned　to　the　wasteland；　looking　for　inspiration；　and　a　few　minutes〃　search　in　the　deepening　dusk　revealed　a　pile　of　discarded　furniture；　among　it　a　table；　three…legged；　but　serviceable。　He　hauled　it　back　to　the　fire　escape　and　then　wedged　a　collection　of　refuse　bags　beneath　it　in　lieu　of　its　missing　limb。　It　made　an　unsteady　perch　when　he　climbed　up　onto　it；　and　even　then　his　fingers　missed　the　bottom　of　the　escape。　He　was　obliged　to　jump　for　a　handhold；　and　on　the　fourth　attempt　he　achieved　one；　leaving　him　swinging　at　arm's　length　from　the　bottom　step。　A　drizzle　of　rust　scales　hit　his　face　and　hair。　The　escape　creaked。　He　mustered　his　will　and　hauled　himself　up　a　vital　few　inches；　then　struck　out　with　his　left　hand　for　a　hold　on　a　higher　stair。　His　shoulder　joints　plained；　but　he　pulled　on　upward；　hand　over　hand；　until　he　could　lift　his　leg　high　enough　to　hoist　his　whole　body　onto　the　steps。
　　The　first　stage　achieved；　he　stood　on　the　escape　and　caught　his　breath；　then　started　up。　The　structure　was　by　no　means　stable；　the　salvage　crew　had　obviously　been　at　work　loosening　it　from　the　wall。　Every　step　he　took；　a　grating　squeal　seemed　to　presage　its　capitulation。
　　〃Hold　on；〃　he　whispered　to　it；　mounting　the　steps　with　as　light　a　tread　as　he　could。　His　efforts　were　rewarded　on　the　fourth　story。　As　he　guessed；　the　door　had　been　opened　quite　recently；　and　with　no　small　sense　of　relief　he　stepped　from　the　dubious　safety　of　the　fire　escape　and　into　the　hotel　itself。
　　It　still　stank　of　the　conflagration　that　had　defeated　it：　the　bitter　smell　of　burned　wood　and　charred　carpeting。　Below　him　he　could　see…by　the　meager　light　through　the　open　fire　door…the　gutted　floors。　The　walls　were　scorched；　the　paint　on　the　banisters　diseased　with　blisters。　But　just　a　few　steps　up　from　here　the　fire's　progress　had　been　arrested。
　　Marty　started　up　the　stairs　to　the　fifth　story。　A　long　corridor　presented　itself　to　him；　with　rooms　to　right　and　left。　He　wandered　down　the　passageway　taking　a　perfunctory　look　into　each　of　the　suites　as　he　passed。　The　numbered　doors　let　onto　empty　spaces：　all　the　furniture　and　fittings　that　were　salvageable　had　been　removed　years　ago。
　　Perhaps　because　of　its　isolated　position；　and　the　difficulty　of　entering；　the　building　had　not　been　squatted　or　vandalized。　The　rooms　were　almost　absurdly　clean；　their　deep…pile　beige　carpets…too　bothersome　to　remove；　apparently…springy　as　cliff　turf　beneath　his　feet。　He　checked　every　suite　on　the　fifth　floor　before　retracing　his　path　to　the　stairs　and　going　up　another　flight。　The　scene　was　the　same　here；　although　the　suites…which　had　perhaps　once　manded　a　salable　view…were　larger　and　fewer　on　this　floor；　the　carpets；　if　anything；　lusher。　It　was　bizarre；　ascending　from　the　charred　depths　of　the　hotel　to　this　pristine；　breathless　place。　People　had　perhaps　died　in　the　blindfold　corridors　below；　asphyxiated　or　baked　to　death　in　their　dressing　gowns。　But　up　here　no　trace　of　the　tragedy　had　intruded。
　　There　was　one　floor　left　to　investigate。　As　he　climbed　the　final　flight　of　stairs　the　illumination　suddenly　strengthened　until　it　was　almost　as　bright　as　day。　The　source　was　highway　light；　finding　its　way　through　the　skylights　and　ineptly　sealed　windows。　He　explored　the　labyrinthine　system　of　rooms　as　quickly　as　possible；　pausing　only　to　glance　out　of　the　window。　Far　below；　he　could　see　the　car　parked　beyond　the　fence；　the　dogs　engaged　in　a　mass　rape。　In　the　second　suite　he　suddenly　caught　sight　of　somebody　watching　him　across　the　vast　reception　room　only　to　realize　that　the　haggard　face　was　his　own；　reflected　in　a　wall…sized　mirror。
　　The　door　of　the　third　suite；　on　this　final　floor；　was　locked；　the　first　locked　suite　Marty　had　encountered。　Proof　positive；　if　any　were　needed；　that　it　had　an　occupant。
　　Jubilant；　Marty　rapped　on　the　door。　〃Hello？　Mr。　Whitehead？〃　There　was　no　answering　movement　from　within。　He　rapped　again；　harder；　casing　the　door　as　he　did　so　to　see　if　a　break…in　was　plausible；　but　it　looked　too　solid　to　be　easily　shouldered　down。　If　necessary；　he'd　have　to　go　back　to　the　car　and　get　some　tools。
　　〃It's　Strauss；　Mr。　Whitehead。　It's　Marty　Strauss。　I　know　you're　in　there。　Answer　me。〃　He　listened。　When　there　was　no　reply；　he　beat　on　the　door　a　third　time；　this　time　with　fist　instead　of　knuckles。　And　suddenly　the　reply　came；　shockingly　close。　The　old　man　was　standing　just　the　other　side　of　the　door；　had　been　all　along　probably。
　　〃Go　to　Hell；〃　the　voice　said。　It　was　a　little　slurred；　but　unmistakably　that　of　Whitehead。
　　〃I　have　to　speak　to　you；〃　Marty　replied。　〃Let　me　in。〃　〃How　the　fuck　did　you　find　me？〃　Whitehead　demanded。　〃You　bastard。〃　〃I　made　some　inquiries；　that's　all。　If　I　can　find　you；　anybody　can。〃　〃Not　if　you　keep　your　wretched　mouth　shut。　You　want　money；　is　that　it？　e　here　for　money；　have　you？〃　〃No。〃　〃You　can　have　it。　I'll　get　it　to　you；　however　much　you　want。〃　〃I　don't　want　money。〃　〃Then　you're　a　damn　fool；〃　Whitehead　said；　and　he　laughed　to　himself；　a　witless；　ragged　titter。　The　man　was　drunk。
　　〃Mamoulian's　on　to　you；〃　Marty　said。　〃He　knows　you're　alive。〃　The　laughing　stopped。
　　〃How？〃　〃Carys。〃　〃You've　seen　her？〃　〃Yes。　She's　safe。〃　〃Well　。　。　。　I　underestimated　you。〃　He　paused；　there　was　a　soft　sound；　as　if　he　was　leaning　against　the　door。　After　a　while　he　spoke　again。　He　sounded　exhausted。
　　〃What　did　you　e　for；　if　not　for　money？　She's　got　some　expensive　habits；　you　know。〃　〃No　thanks　to　you。〃　〃I'm　sure　you'll　find　it　as　convenient　as　I　did；　given　time。　She'll　bend　over　backward　for　a　fix。〃　〃You're　filth；　you　know　that？〃　〃But　you　came　to　warn　me　anyway。〃　The　old　man　leaped　on　the　paradox　with　lightning　speed；　quick　as　ever　to　open　a　hole　in　a　man's　flank。　〃Poor　Marty　。　。　。〃　the　slurred　voice　trailed　away；　smothered　by　mock　pity。　Then；　razor…sharp：　〃How　did　you　find　me？〃　〃The　strawberries。〃　What　sounded　like　muffled　choking　came　from　within　the　suite；　but　it　was　Whitehead　laughing　again；　this　time　at　himself。　It　took　several　moments　for　him　to　regain　his　posure。　〃Strawberries　。　。　。〃　he　murmured。　〃My！　You　must　be　persuasive。　Did　you　break　his　arms？〃　〃No。　He　volunteered　the　information。　He　didn't　want　to　see　you　curl　up　and　die。〃　〃I'm　not　going　to　die！〃　the　old　man　…snapped。