jefflong.yearzero-第14章

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　〃Hello；　Winston；〃　said　Miranda。
　His　ear　stubs　rotated。
　〃How's　my　little　prince？〃
　The　monster　spoke。　He　didn't　bark　or　hoot。　His　sounds　were　very　close　to　human　speech；　a　series　of　garbling　and　glottal　stops。　The　string　of　wet　noises　marched　on。　He　was　talking　about　something　with　great　consideration。
　〃It's　real　language；〃　she　informed　her　father。　〃If　you　listen　carefully；　now　and　then；　you　can　make　out　certain　words。　Almost　in　English。　I　think　his　hyoid　bone　is　malformed。　He　can't　shape　sounds。　But　he　definitely　has　things　to　say。　And　he　understands　me。〃
　〃You've　built　yourself　a　pet。　A　parrot。　You　taught　him　words。〃
　〃That's　the　strange　part。〃　Miranda　looked　back　at　her　father。　〃The　day　he　was　born；　he　already　knew　how　to　speak。　He　came　out　of　the　incubator　with　a　full　vocabulary。〃
　〃Enough；〃　her　father　snapped。
　〃That's　what　I　said。　I　didn't　believe　it。　But　it　kept　happening。〃
　〃What；〃　he　demanded。
　〃He　kept　remembering　things。〃
　He　snorted。　〃Miranda。〃
　She　went　on。　〃Old　things。　Things　from　my　past。〃
　〃Stop。〃
　〃Memories。　My　memories。　I　brought　a　box　of　my　toys　from　home。　I　mixed　them　with　stuff　from　the　Goodwill。　He　sorted　out　what　was　mine。〃
　〃You're　saying　memory　is　hard…wired　into　our　genetic　code？〃
　〃Or　soft…wired。　Why　not？　Genetic　diseases　are。　They　bee　part　of　us　at　the　cellular　level。　Metabolic　circuitry。　Cellular　wiring。　Whatever　you　want　to　call　it。〃
　〃Memory　is　a　genetic　disease？〃　he　scoffed。
　〃That's　a　cynical　way　of　putting　it；〃　she　said。
　〃I've　had　enough　of　this。〃　He　turned　away。
　〃What's　my　name；　Winston？〃　she　suddenly　asked。　Her　father　paused。
　The　monster　looked　up　from　his　lobster。　His　green　eyes　were　bright　and　happy。　〃Mirn…dot；〃　he　said。
　〃And　him？　Who　is　he？〃　She　pointed　at　her　father；　who　shook　his　head　sadly。
　Winston　had　that　one　all　figured　out。　〃Da…da；〃　he　said。
　〃Tricks；〃　her　father　declared。　〃You　showed　him　my　photograph。〃
　Miranda　faced　her　father。　His　jaw　was　set。　He　could　stop　the　bad　things　that　were　about　to　happen　with　a　word。　Instead　he　was　going　to　unleash　whoever　they　were　lurking　in　the　forest。　Her　little　Winston　was　history。　They　would　poison　the　pond　or　shoot　him　or　sedate　and　cage　him。　She　had　failed　her　creation。　The　old　coldness　settled　into　her　heart。
　〃One　big　problem　with　that　explanation；〃　she　told　her　father。
　He　waited。
　〃I　don't　have　photos　of　you　to　show　him。〃　She　went　for　the　jugular。　〃I　threw　those　out　a　long　time　ago。〃
　He　retreated　behind　stone　eyes。　Not　a　wince。　〃I'm　sorry　this　hurts　you　so　much；〃　he　said。
　It　did。　It　hurt。　Then　it　did　not。　Love　was　no　use。　Its　bonds　were　false。　So　she　did　not　say　goodbye　to　her　creation。　She　turned　so　that　her　father　could　not　see　the　tear　in　her　eye；　and　walked　away　into　the　woods。
　
　3
　The　Descent
　
　THEHIMALAYAS
　MAY
　God！〃　Nathan　Lee's　hand　twitched。　It　was　watching　him；　the　white　face　crowning　a　mass　of　fur。
　The　telephoto　jiggled。　He　lost　it。　His　yeti。
　Metoh…kangmi；the　Tibetan　refugees　had　called　it；　Sherpa　for　dirty　or　wild　man。　The　Chinese　term　wasyerin。　From　the　beginning　there'd　been　a　chance　that　this　was　a　wild　goose　chase；　that　even　if　there　was　a　body；　it　would　prove　worthless；　one　more　lost　yak　herder　or　refugee　or　frozen　ascetic。　But　it　was　real。　In　that　single　glance；　he'd　seen　something　elusive　and　radically　primitive。
　Trembling；　Nathan　Lee　scoped　the　mountainside　again；　but　his　eyes　were　tired。　He　looked　at　his　watch；　then　at　the　larger　vista。
　At　24；400　feet　above　sea　level；　Makalu　La…the　pass　between　Makalu　and　a　neighboring　peak…wasted　no　refinement。　It　invited　no　repose。　You　were　here　only　to　get　there；　whichever　side　of　the　Nepal　border　that　might　be。　To　the　north　lay　the　inert；　mythical　Tibetan　plateau　in　the　People's　Republic　of　China。　At　his　back　loomed　the　enormous　west　face　of　Makalu；　frisked　by　morning　winds。　Seven　miles　west；　Everest's　upper　pyramid　was　bright　orange　with　sunrise；　practically　Egyptian　atop　the　sea　of　darkness。
　He　checked　the　trail　below。　Ochs　and　a　porter　named　Rinchen　had　finally　left　last　night's　camp；　a　small　blue　tent　inside　a　wind　break　built　of　rocks。　They　were　like　ants　on　the　lower　switchbacks。　Nathan　Lee　gave　a　shout。　They　looked　up。　He　pointed　higher。　Ochs　waved　slowly；　then　resumed　his　bovine　plod。　Just　watching　him　made　Nathan　Lee　feel　spent　and　afflicted。　Anymore；　it　seemed；　he　and　Ochs　had　bee　characters　trapped　in　a　film；　doomed　to　replay　the　same　thieves'　tale　over　and　over。
　Jerusalem　had　led　to　a　regular　calendar　of　other　lootings：　Guatemala；　the　Noco　digs　in　Peru；　more　raids　on　quake…ruined　Year　Zero　sites　near　Qumran；　even　a　few　break…ins　at　monasteries　and　churches　in　the　former　Soviet　Union。　Sometimes　it　was　missioned　by　private　clients　or；　as　with　the　Smithsonian；　by　established　museums。　The　landscape　changed；　but　never　the　errand：　time　crime；　the　FBI　and　Interpol　called　the　trafficking　in　artifacts　and　bones。
　Rinchen　followed　behind　Ochs；　idling　with　that　deep　patience　of　Himalayan　people。　A　tiny　puff　of　tobacco　smoke　leaked　from　his　mouth。　The　grizzly　old　shepherd　hunted　snow　leopards　for　the　Chinese　black　market。　He　had　gold　teeth　and　spoke　a　little　English。　He　claimed　to　know　the　territory；　though　not；　Nathan　Lee　had　e　to　realize；　this　territory。　The　man　had　never　been　close　to　Makalu　La。　He　was　just　another　outlaw　along　for　the　ride。
　The　past　two　weeks　had　been　strained　by　ugly　banter。　Nathan　Lee　had　learned　to　rise　early　and　set　off　alone；　letting　Ochs　share　the　trail　with　Rinchen。　He　had　tried　in　vain　to　separate　himself　from　the　grave　robber　and　the　poacher。　Ochs　saw　his　self…loathing。　At　their　campfires；　he　reveled　in　it。He　who　fights　with　monsters；　he　taunted　through　the　flames；beware　lest　he　bee　a　monster。
　Nathan　Lee　returned　to　the　yeti。　With　the　camera　balanced　on　a　boulder；　he　methodically　swept　the　ridge　bordering　the　pass。　The　light　changed。　Shadows　opened。　The　mountains　had　a　way　of　sliding　out　from　under　your　feet　up　here。　You　had　to　work　hard　to　keep　up　with　the　dragon。
　He　found　it　again。　Somehow　the　refugees　had　spotted　the　body　with　the　naked　eye。　Even　with　a　200…power　lens；　he'd　passed　over　it　a　dozen　times。　The　figure　was　perched　on　a　ledge；　white　and　black　among　the　white　and　black　rocks；　hidden　in　plain　sight。　There　was　little　to　see　but　patches　where　the　skin…or　bone…stood　exposed。　The　face　had　not　moved。　It　was　still　aimed　at　Nathan　Lee　on　his　cold　rock。　Through　the　telephoto；　he　carefully　memorized　the　shelves　and　ramp　leading　upward。
　He　stood　and　began　packing　his　things；　nestling　his　camera　beside　the　body　bag。　It　was　one　of　those　same　bags　they'd　used　to　trick　the　Year　Zero　bones　out　of　Jerusalem。　Four　years　had　passed　since　then；　but　it　was　like　time　had　stood　still。　He　was　still　slouching　circles　around　the　ivory　tower；　basically　faking　it。　He　had　no　title；　no　position；　no　presence　in　the　world。　About　all　he　did　have　was　a　reputation　for　looting；　and　visitation　rights　with　Grace；　which　Lydia　and　her　divorce　sharks　were　tearing　to　bits　while　he　dragged　her　brother　through　the　Himalayas。
　He　strapped　on　his　scratched　red　helmet　and　started　up。　Faraway；　rocks　hissed　down　from　the　heights。　Avalanches　flowered　in　utter　silence。　There　was　no　need　for　a　helmet　here。　The　climbing　was　scarcely　a　scramble。　But　he　was　taking　no　chances。　Nathan　Lee　loved　the　high　mountains；　but　had　e　to　hate　the　dangers。　Fatherhood　had　made　him　a　chicken。
　He　picked　his　way　across　the　scree　field。　The　slope　steepened。　Scree　gave　way　to　shelves　shingly　with　the　fossils　of　small　sea　animals。　The　Chago　Glacier　gaped　two　thousand　feet　below。
　As　conceived　by　an　ambitious　curator　at　the　Smithsonian's　National　Museum　of　Man；　their　plan　involved　locating　the　body；　if　it　truly　existed；　then　carrying　it　several　miles　to　the　south；　well　into　Nepal；　safely　away　from　the　border　and　any　claims　by　the　People's　Republic　of　China。　Everyone　in　the　museum　business　recalled　the　pitched　battle　between　Italy　and　Austria　over　the　Iceman　found　on　their　alpine　border。　The　Smithsonian　wanted　no　such　plexities。
　Two　days　downvalley；　Nathan　Lee　had　found　a　cave　used　by　Buddhist　hermits　over　the　centuries。　It　was　empty　now。　They'd　cached　all　their　supplies　there　for　the　trek　out　a