ericlustbader.the ninja-第5章

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s　how　he　put　it。　〃And　you　know　how　that　sort　is　sometimes。　I　must　tell　you；　we　are　damn　lucky　to　have　him　here。　He　almost　went　to　Harvard　but　we　snared　him　at　the　last　moment。　Convinced　him　of　the　superiority　of　our　research　facilities。〃　He　patted　me　on　the　back　as　if　I　were　the　department　mascot。　〃Who　ever　knows　with　Eng？〃　he　said。　〃Perhaps　he　thought　you　were　Malay。　We　all　must　make　allowances；　Mr　Linnear。〃'
　'I　don't　understand　that；'　Justine　said。　'You're　not　Malay；　are　you？'
　'No；　but　if　Eng　thought　I　was；　he　might　have　reason　to　dislike　me。　The　Chinese　and　the　Malays　were　constantly　at　each　other's　throats　in　the　Singapore　area。　No　love　lost　there。'
　'What　are　you？'　She　seemed　abruptly　quite　close　to　him；　her　eyes　enormous　and　very　luminous。　'There's　an　Asian　hint　in　your　face；　I　think。　In　your　eyes　perhaps；　or　in　the　height　of　your　cheekbones。'
　'My　father　was　English；'　he　said。　'A　Jew　who　was　forced　to　change　his　name　so　that　he　could　get　ahead　in　business　and　then；　during　the　war；　in　the　Army。　He　was　a　colonel。'
　'What　was　his　name？　Before　he　changed　it；　I　mean。'
　'I　don't　know。　He　wouldn't　tell　me。　〃Nicholas；〃　he　said　to　me　one　day；　〃what's　in　a　name？　The　man　who　tells　you　that　there　is　some　significance　in　his　name　is　a　bare…faced　liar。〃　'
　'But　weren't　you　ever　curious　about　it？'
　'Oh　yes。　For　a　time。　But　after　a　while　I　gave　up　looking。'
　'And　your　mother？'
　'Ah。　That　would　depend　on　whom　you　spoke　to。　She　always　maintained　that　she　was　pureblood。　Chinese。'
　'But；'　Justine　prompted。
　'But　in　all　likelihood　she　was　only　half　Chinese。　The　other　half　was　probably　Japanese。'　He　shrugged。　'Not　that　I　was　ever　certain。　It's　just　that　she　seemed　always　to　think　like　a　Japanese。'　He　smiled。　'Anyway；　I　am　a　romantic　and　it's　far　more　exciting　to　think　of　her　as　a　mixture。　An　unusual　mixture　given　the　mutual　animosity　historically　between　the　two　peoples。　More　mysterious。'
　'And　you　like　mysteries。'
　He　watched　the　sweep　of　her　dark　hair；　sliding　across　one　cheek；　hiding　the　eye　with　the　crimson　motes。　'In　a　sense。　。　Yes。'
　'Your　features　are　all　Caucasian；'　she　said；　abruptly　switching　topics。
　'Yes；'　Nicholas　said。　'Physically　I　take　after　my　father；　the　Colonel。'　He　put　his　head　back　on　the　couch；　his　hair　touching　her　outstretched　fingers　for　a　moment　before　she　moved　them　back；　curling　them　into　a　fist。　He　stared　up　at　the　patterned　pools　of　light　playing　upon　the　ceiling。　'Inside；　though；　I　am　my　mother's　son。'
　Doc　Deerforth　never　looked　forward　to　the　summer。　This　was　a　curious　thing；　he　thought；　because　it　was　invariably　his　busiest　time。　The　influx　from　the　city　never　ceased　to　astound　him；　the　migratory　pattern　of　almost　the　entire　Upper　East　Side　of　Manhattan；　as　fixed　and　precise　as　the　geese　flying　their　arrowhead　formations　south　in　the　winter。
　Not　that　Doc　Deerforth　knew　all　that　much　about　Manhattan；　not　these　days；　at　least；　he　had　not　set　foot　in　that　madhouse　in　over　five　years　and　then　it　had　been　only　to　pay　a　brief　visit　to　his　friend　Nate　Graumann；　New　York　City's　Chief　Medical　Examiner。
　He　was　quite　content　to　be　out　here。　He　had　his　daughters　who；　with　their　own　families；　visited　him　regularly　…　his　wife　had　died　of　leukemia　over　ten　years　ago；　turned　to　a　faded　photo　…　and　his　work　as　doctor　in　West　Bay　Bridge。　Then　there　was　his　ancillary　M。E。　work　for　Flower　at　Hauppauge。　They　liked　him　there　because　he　was　thorough　and　inventive；　Flower　kept　asking　him　if　he　would　e　to　work　for　the　Suffolk　County　M。E。　but　he　was　much　too　happy　where　he　was。　There　were　friends　here；　plentiful　and　warm　but；　most　of　all；　he　had　himself。　He　found　that；　essentially；　he　was　happy　with　himself。　That　did　not　stop　the　occasional　nightmare；　however；　from　creeping　through　like　a　clandestine　burglar　on　the　loose。　He　would　still　wake　up；　drenched　in　sweat；　the　damp　sheets　twisted　clammily　about　his　legs。　Some　nights　he　would　dream　of　white　blood　but　he　dreamed　of　other　things　as　well；　dream　symbols　of　his　personal　fright。　At　those　times　he　would　get　up　and　pad　silently　into　the　kitchen；　making　himself　a　cup　of　hot　cocoa；　and　would　read；　at　random；　from　one　of　Raymond　Chandler's　seven　novels；　finding　within　that　spare　inferential　prose…style　a　kind　of　existential　calm　amid　his　private　storm；　and　inside　thirty　minutes　he　had　returned　to　sleep。
　Doc　Deerforth　stretched；　easing　the　ache　that　sat　like　a　stuck　pitchfork　between　his　shoulder　blades。　That's　what　es　of　working　all　hours　at　my　age；　he　thought。　Still；　he　went　over　his　findings　once　again。　It　was　all　there；　black　and　white；　the　words　piling　together　into　sentences　and　paragraphs；　but　now　he　was　seeing　the　meaning　for　the　first　time；　as　if　he　were　an　Egyptologist　who　had　at　last　stumbled　upon　the　Rosetta　Stone。
　Another　routine　drowning；　he　had　thought；　when　they　had　called　him　out　to　Dune　Road。　Of　course　he　did　not　mean　that。　The　word　routine　had　no　place　in　his　vocabulary。　Life　was　the　most　precious　thing　in　the　world　to　him。　But　he　need　not　have　bee　a　doctor　to　feel　that　way。　Living　through　the　war　in　the　Pacific　Theatre　had　been　enough。　Day　after　day；　from　his　disarrayed　jungle　camp　during　the　bitter　fighting　in　the　Philippines；　he　had　seen　the　cascades　of　small　one…man　planes　guided　by　their　kamikaze　pilots　as　they　plunged　headlong　with　2；650　pounds　of　high　explosives　in　their　blunt　noses　into　the　American　warships。　The　cultural　chasm　between　East　and　West　could　be　summed　up　by　those　aircraft；　Doc　Deerforth　had　always　thought。　The　Japanese　name　for　them　was　Oka　…　the　cherry　blossom。　But　the　Americans　called　them　baka　…　the　idiot　bomb。　Western　philosophical　thought　had　no　place　for　the　concept　of　ritual　suicide　inherent　in　the　Japanese　samurai　of　old。　But　that　was　it；　really。　The　samurai　survived；　despite　all　obstacles　that　had　been　put　in　his　path。　Doc　Deerforth　would　never　forget　the　haiku　which；　so　the　story　went；　had　been　written　by　a　twenty…two…year…old　kamikaze　pilot　just　before　his　death；　this；　too；　was　tradition：　'If　only　we　might　fall　/　Like　cherry　blossoms　in　the　spring　…　/　So　pure　and　radiant！'　And　that；　he　thought；　was　how　the　Japanese　felt　about　death。　The　samurai　was　born　to　the　a　glorious　death　in　battle。
　And　all　I　wanted　was　for　the　war　to　end　with　my　skin　intact　and　my　mind　unbent。
　And　it　had　e　to　pass；　except　for　the　nightmares　that　haunted　him　like　hungry　vampires　newly　risen　from　the　grave。
　Doc　Deerforth　got　up　from　behind　his　desk　and　went　to　the　window。　Beyond　the　fluted　layers　of　the　oak　leaves　that　shaded　this　side　of　the　house　from　the　long　afternoon's　heat；　he　saw　the　expanse　of　Main　Street。　Just　another　weekday　in　the　summer。　But　that　world　now　seemed　a　million　miles　away；　as　remote　as　the　surface　of　another　planet。
　Doc　Deerforth　turned　back　into　his　office　and；　scooping　up　the　manila　folder　and　its　contents；　went　out　of　the　house；　down　Main　Street　towards　the　one…storey　ugly　red　brick　building　housing　the　Fire　Department　and；　beyond　a　courtyard　parking　lot；　the　Village　Police。
　Half　way　there；　he　ran　into　Nicholas；　who　was　just　ing　out　of　the　automated　doors　of　the　supermarket　loaded　down　with　groceries。
　'Hello；　Nick。'
　'Hey；　Doc。　How　are　you？'
　Tine。　Fine。　Just　on　my　way　to　see　Ray　Florum。'　They　had　met；　as　most　residents　of　West　Bay　Bridge　did　eventually；　along　this　same　Main　Street；　introduced　by　mutual　acquaintances。　It　was　difficult　here；　even　for　the　most　devoutly　reclusive；　not　to　make　friends　even　if　they　were　only　of　the　'Howdy'　variety。　'Just　got　back　from　Hauppauge。'
　'That　body　they　found　yesterday？'
　'Yeah。'　Doc　Deerforth　turned　his　head　quickly；　spat　out　a　bit　of　food　that　had　lodged　itself　between　his　teeth。　He　was　glad　of　this　diversion。　He　felt　a　genuine　fear　of　confronting　Florum　with　what　he　had。　Besides；　he　liked　Nicholas。　'Hey；　you　might've　known　him。　Didn't　live　too　far　from　you　along　Dune　Road。'
　Nicholas　smiled　thinly。　'Not　very　likely　…'
　'Braughm's　his　name。　Barry　Braughm。'
　Nicholas　felt　a　queer　sense　of　vertigo　for　just　a　moment　and　he　thought　of　Justine's　words　on　the　beach　the　day　she　had　run　into　him。　You　know　how　incestuous　this　place　is。　She　couldn't　know　how　right　she　was。
　'Yes；'　Nicholas　said　slowly。　'I　knew　him。　When　I　was　in　advertis