ericlustbader.the ninja-第7章
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still lodged in his sternum。〃 'There's no exit wound？'
'No。'
'The fall could have dislodged it。 Or the sea …'
'Or it was pulled free after the man fell。'
'What you're saying； Doc。。。' He paused and； pushing aside the photos； consulted a filled…out preprinted form。 〃This guy； Barry Braughm； an account executive at' … here he named Sam Goldman's advertising agency in New York … 'lived at three…oh…one East Sixty…third； was murdered。 But in this way？ For what reason？ He was out here alone。 No jealous wife or boyfriend。。。〃 He laughed。 'He's got a sister in Queens whom we've already contacted and interviewed。 We checked on his house on Dune Road。 Nada。 No sign of it being broken into or even that anything was taken。 His car was where he had driven it up and parked it in front of the house as secure as Fort Knox。 There's nothing to …'
'There's this；' Doc Deerforth said； knowing that； at last； he had e to the moment he had been dreading ever since he had discovered the puncture wound and； subsequently； had pulled the blood from the drowned man's heart。 It isn't possible； he kept telling himself； all the time his hands and eyes were running the tests that were confirming it； saying it over and over to himself like a litany against evil。 And he felt now rather out of himself； a dreamlike unreality that allowed him to sit in another part of this room and watch himself talking to Ray Florum just as if he were an actor in some film。
From outside there came the sound of a child's laughter； harsh and brittle in the night； transformed by some aural magic into an eerie； other…worldly sound； the mocking shrillness of the macaws' cries in the Philippine jungle。
'It's the poison；' he continued。… 'It's a very specific type。' He ran his palms down the sides of his trousers。 It had been a long time since he had felt his hands wet with sweat。 'I came across this particular pound when I was stationed overseas。〃
'During the war？' Florum said。 'But； good God； man； that's thirty…six years ago。 Do you mean to tell me …'
'I could not forget this poison； Ray； no matter how many years have passed。 A patrol went out one night。 Five men。 Only one returned and he just made it to the perimeter。 We'd heard no shots； nothing but the birds and the buzz of the insects 。。。 It was odd； that kind of stillness； almost creepy； we'd been fired upon by snipers all through the day and every day for about a week。' Doc Deerforth took a deep breath before plunging onwards。 Anyway； they brought me the man who'd e back。 He was a boy； really。 No more than nineteen。 He was still alive and I began to work on him。 I did everything I could； everything in and out of the book； but I was helpless。 He literally died before my eyes。〃
'Dying of this stuff？'
Doc Deerforth nodded bleakly。 'The same。'
'Do you want me to go？' Nicholas asked her。
'Yes；' Justine said。 'No。 I don't know。' She stood behind the couch； her fingers pulled distractedly at the tufted Haitian cotton。 'My God； but you confuse me。'
'I don't mean to；' he offered。
'Words don't mean anything。〃
He was quite startled to see that her face in profile seemed remarkably different； as if he were seeing her now from the perspective of a different age； some other life。 In this respect； she reminded him of Yukio。 Of course with Yukio he had always imagined it to be the diverse mixture of her heritage； shrouded in some mysterious world to which he did not belong and to which he had brought but the insight of an alien。 That； he knew now； had been a purely Westernized response to what was； quite obviously； inexplicable and it somehow confounded him that here； in the West； it should strike him so differently。 Perhaps it was but the passage of time … a certain distancing from the anguish … which enabled him at last to see Yukio for what she really was； to him and to those around him。 It was； he thought； the space he had gained from all the ramified； ritualized patterns of his life in Japan； which allowed him to realize the mistakes he had mitted； to understand the role of his participation in it all。
Justine stirred on the other side of the couch； as far from him as if she were in another country； and he smelled her fragrance。
'It's late；' she said。 But it made no sense； was meant； he supposed； to fill a void that was being too threatening for her。
Bur this kind of inner tension was one of the things that most intrigued him about her。 Oh yes； she was extraordinarily beautiful in his eyes； if he had passed her on a busy Manhattan street； he would surely have turned his head； even； perhaps； followed her into Bendel's or Botticelli before he lost her in a swelling crowd； what else does he do with that kind of fantasy？ When one followed them up； one was invariably disappointed。 Then she would have been on his mind for an hour or so。 But so what？ Physical beauty； he had learned quite early； was the arbiter of nothing； could even be a dangerous and bloody thing。 More than anything else； he needed a challenge； with women as much as with all the interests in his life。 For he felt quite deeply that nothing in life was worth possessing without a struggle … even love； especially love。 This too he had learned in Japan； where women were like flowers one had to unfold like origami； with infinite care and deliberateness finding that； when fully opened； they were filled with exquisite tenderness and devious violence。
Just the creamy splash of the surf now； the record gathering dust on the immobile turn…table。 There came the cry of a gull； lonely and querulous as if it had somehow lost its way。
He wondered what he had to do； whether he really wanted to do anything。 After all； there was fear inside him； too。
'Have you been with many women？' she asked abruptly。 He saw that her arms； as rigid as pillars； were trembling and that she had brought her head up with an effort。 She stared at him； daring him to deride her or； perhaps； revile her； confirming her suspicions of him and； more generally； of men。
'That's an odd question to ask。'
She turned her head slightly and he saw the warm lamplight define the bridge of her nose； slide down into the hollow beneath one eye； at the crest of her neck。 The crimson motes were like points of burnished brass； the right side of her face was entirely in shadow。 'Will you answer it？'
He smiled。 'Some that I've not cared about。 Few that I have。〃
And all the while she watched his eyes for any hint that he might be mocking her。 She found none。
'What is it you wish to know； Justine？' he said softly。 'Are you afraid I won't tell you？〃
'No。' She shook her head。 'I'm afraid that you will。' Her nails plucked at the nubs of cotton as a musician fingers the strings of a harp。 'I want to and I don't want to；' she said after a while。
He was about to say； with a smile； that it wasn't so serious but he realized that it was； he knew what she was talking about。 He came around the end of the sofa； stood by her。 'It's only me； Justine；' he said； 'who's here。 There's only the two of us。'
'I know。' But it was not enough because she had said it like a little girl who did not quite believe what she was saying； wanting only some outside reassurance for an important inner act。
She broke away from this tight orbit； perhaps feeling the increasing magnetism beginning to influence the balance； and went across the room to stand in front of the large window。 The outside lights were still on； and beyond the porch and the fluttering pitiful moths the sea broke endlessly onto the shore； the sand now as dark as coal。
'You know； for some reason this view reminds me of San Francisco。'
'When were you there？' he asked； ing round and sitting on one arm of the sofa。
'About two years ago； I guess。 I was there for eighteen months； almost。'
'Why'd you leave？'
'I … broke up with someone。 Came back here。 Returned to the East； the prodigal daughter； into the bosom of her family。' For some reason that struck her as funny； but the laugh seemed to strangle and die in her throat。
'You loved the city。'
'Yes；' she said。 'Yes； I did that。 Very much。〃
'Then why leave it？'
'I … had to。' She lifted her slim hand； then looked at it； surprised that it was in that position。 'I
