dk.coldfire-第3节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Outside　the　terminal　at　Portland　International　Airport；　Jim　Ironheart　got　into　a　taxi　operated　by　something　called　the　New　Rose　City　Cab　pany；　which　sounded　like　a　corporate　stepchild　of　the　long…forgotten　hippie　era；　born　in　the　age　of　love　beads　and　flower　power。　But　the　cabbie　Frazier　Tooley；　according　to　his　displayed　license…explained　that　Portland　was　called　the　City　of　Roses；　which　bloomed　there　in　multitudes　and　were　meant　to　be　symbols　of　renewal　and　growth。　〃The　same　way；〃　he　raid；　〃that　street　beggars　are　symbols　of　decay　and　collapse　in　New　York；〃　displaying　a　curiously　charming　smugness　that　Jim　sensed　was　shared　by　many　Portlanders。　
　Tooley；　who　looked　like　an　Italian　operatic　tenor　cast　from　the　same　mold　as　Luciano　Pavarotti；　was　not　sure　he　had　understood　Jim's　instructions。　〃You　just　want　me　to　drive　around　for　a　while？〃　〃Yeah。　I'd　like　to　see　some　of　the　city　before　I　check　into　the　hotel。　
　I've　never　been　here　before。〃　
　The　truth　was；　he　didn't　know　at　which　hotel　he　should　stay　or　whether　he　would　be　required　to　do　the　job　soon；　tonight；　or　maybe　tomorrow。　He　hoped　that　he　would　learn　what　was　expected　of　him　if　he　just　tried　to　relax　and　waited　for　enlightenment。　
　Tooley　was　happy　to　oblige…not　with　enlightenment　but　with　a　tour　of　Portland…because　a　large　fare　would　tick　up　on　the　meter；　but　also　because　he　clearly　enjoyed　showing　off　his　city。　In　fact；　it　was　exceptionally　attractive。　Historic　brick　structures　and　nineteenth…century　cast…iron…front　buildings　were　carefully　preserved　among　modern　glass　high　rises。　Parks　full　of　fountains　and　trees　were　so　numerous　that　it　sometimes　seemed　the　city　was　in　a　forest；　and　roses　were　everywhere；　not　as　many　blooms　as　in　the　summer　but　radiantly　colorful。　
　After　less　than　half　an　hour；　Jim　suddenly　was　overe　by　the　feeling　that　time　was　running　out。　He　sat　forward　on　the　rear　seat　and　heard　himself　say：　〃Do　you　know　the　McAlbery　School？〃　〃Sure；〃　Tooley　said。　
　〃What　is　it？〃　〃The　way　you　asked；　I　thought　you　knew。　Private　elementary　school　over　on　the　west　side。〃　
　Jim's　heart　was　beating　hard　and　fast。　〃Take　me　there。〃　
　Frowning　at　him　in　the　rearview　mirror；　Tooley　said；　〃Something　wrong？〃　〃I　have　to　be　there。〃　
　Tooley　braked　at　a　red　traffic　light。　He　looked　over　his　shoulder　〃What's　wrong？〃　〃I　just　have　to　be　there；〃　Jim　said　sharply；　frustratingly。　
　〃Sure；　no　sweat。〃　
　Fear　had　rippled　through　Jim　ever　since　he　had　spoken　the　words　〃life　line〃　to　the　woman　in　the　supermarket　more　than　four　hours　ago。　those　ripples　swelled　into　dark　waves　that　carried　him　toward　McAlbery　School。　
　With　an　overwhelming　sense　of　urgency　that　he　could　not　explain　he　said；　〃I　have　to　be　there　in　fifteen　minutes！〃　〃Why　didn't　you　mention　it　earlier？〃　He　wanted　to　say；　I　didn't　know　earlier。　Instead　he　said；　〃Can　you　me　there　in　time？〃　〃It'll　be　tight。〃　
　〃I'll　pay　triple　the　meter。〃　
　〃Triple？〃　〃If　you　make　it　in　time；〃　he　said；　withdrawing　his　wallet　from　his　pocket。　He　extracted　a　hundred…dollar　bill　and　thrust　it　at　Tooley。　〃　this　in　advance。〃　
　〃It's　that　important？〃　〃It's　life　and　death。〃　
　Tooley　gave　him　a　look　that　said：　What…are　you　nuts？　〃The　light　just　changed；〃　Jim　told　him。　〃Let's　move！〃　Although　Tooley's　skeptical　frown　deepened；　he　faced　front　again；　took　a　left　turn　at　the　intersection；　and　tramped　on　the　accelerator。　
　Jim　kept　glancing　at　his　watch　all　the　way；　and　they　arrived　at　the　school　with　only　three　minutes　to　spare。　He　tossed　another　bill　at　Tooley　paying　even　more　than　three　times　the　meter；　pulled　open　the　door；　scrambled　out　with　his　suitcase。　
　Tooley　leaned　through　his　open　window。　〃You　want　me　to　wait？〃　Slamming　the　door；　Jim　said；　〃No。　No；　thanks。　You　can　go。〃　
　He　turned　away　and　heard　the　taxi　drive　off　as　he　anxiously　studied　the　front　of　McAlbery　School。　The　building　was　actually　a　rambling　colonial　house　with　a　deep　front　porch；　onto　which　had　been　added　two　three…story　wings　to　provide　more　classrooms。　It　was　shaded　by　Douglas　and　huge　old　sycamores。　With　its　lawn　and　playground；　it　occupied　the　entire　length　of　that　short　block。　
　In　the　house　part　of　the　structure　directly　in　front　of　him；　kids　were　ing　out　of　the　double　doors；　onto　the　porch；　and　down　the　steps。　
　Laughing　and　chattering；　carrying　books　and　large　drawing　tablets　and　bright　lunchboxes　decorated　with　cartoon　characters；　they　approached　Jim　along　the　school　walk；　passed　through　the　open　gate　in　the　spearpoint　iron　fence；　and　turned　either　uphill　or　down；　moving　away　from　him　in　both　directions。　
　Two　minutes　left。　He　didn't　have　to　look　at　his　watch。　His　heart　was　pounding　two　beats　for　every　second；　and　he　knew　the　time　as　surely　as　if　he　had　been　a　clock。　
　Sunshine；　filtered　through　the　interstices　of　the　arching　trees；　fell　in　delicate　patterns　across　the　scene　and　the　people　in　it；　as　if　everything　had　been　draped　over　with　an　enormous　piece　of　gossamer　lace　work　stitched　from　golden　thread。　That　netlike　ornamental　fabric　of　light　seemed　to　shimmer　in　time　to　the　rising　and　falling　music　of　the　children's　shouts　and　laughter；　and　the　moment　should　have　been　peaceful；　idyllic。　
　But　Death　was　ing。　
　Suddenly　he　knew　that　Death　was　ing　for　one　of　the　children；　not　for　any　of　the　three　teachers　standing　on　the　porch；　just　for　one　child。　Not　a　big　catastrophe；　not　an　explosion　or　fire　or　a　falling　airplane　that　would　wipe　out　a　dozen　of　them。　Just　one；　a　small　tragedy。　But　which　one？　Jim　refocused　his　attention　from　the　scene　to　the　players　in　it；　studying　the　children　as　they　approached　him；　seeking　the　mark　of　imminent　death　on　one　of　their　fresh　young　faces。　But　they　all　looked　as　if　they　would　live　forever。　
　〃Which　one？〃　he　said　aloud；　speaking　neither　to　himself　nor　to　the　children　but　to。　。　。　。　Well；　he　supposed　he　was　speaking　to　God。　〃Which　one？〃　Some　kids　went　uphill　toward　the　crosswalks　at　that　intersection；　and　others　headed　downhill　toward　the　opposite　end　of　the　block。　In　both　directions；　women　crossing　guards　in　bright…orange　safety　vests；　holding　big　red　paddlelike　〃stop〃　signs；　had　begun　to　shepherd　their　charges　across　the　streets　in　small　groups。　No　moving　cars　or　trucks　were　in　sight；　so　even　without　the　crossing　guards　there　seemed　to　be　little　threat　from　traffic。　
　One　and　a　half　minutes。　
　Jim　scrutinized　two　yellow　vans　parked　at　the　curb　downhill　from　him。　
　For　the　most　part；　McAlbery　seemed　to　be　a　neighborhood　school；　where　kids　walked　to　and　from　their　homes；　but　a　few　were　boarding　the　vans　The　two　drivers　stood　by　the　doors；　smiling　and　joking　with　the　ebullient；　energetic　passengers。　None　of　the　kids　boarding　the　vans　seemed　doomed；　and　the　cheery　yellow　vehicles　did　not　strike　him　as　morgue　wagons　in　bright　dress。　
　But　Death　was　nearer。　
　It　was　almost　among　them。　
　An　ominous　change　had　stolen　over　the　scene；　not　in　reality　but　in　Jim's　perception　of　it。　He　was　now　less　aware　of　the　golden　lace　work　of　light　than　he　was　of　the　shadows　within　that　bright　filigree：　small　shadows　the　shape　of　leaves　or　bristling　clusters　of　evergreen　needles；　larger　shadows　in　the　shape　of　tree　trunks　or　branches；　geometric　bars　of　shade　from　the　iron　rails　of　the　spearpoint　fence。　Each　blot　of　darkness　seemed　to　be　a　potential　doorway　through　which　Death　might　arrive。　
　One　minute。　
　Frantic；　he　hurried　downhill　several　steps；　among　the　children；　drawing　puzzled　looks　as　he　glanced　at　one　then　another　of　them；　not　sure　what　sort　of　sign　he　was　searching　for；　the　small　suitcase　banging　against　his　leg　Fifty　seconds。　
　The　shadows　seemed　to　be　growing；　spreading；　melting　together　all　around　Jim。　
　He　stopped；　turned；　and　peered　uphill　toward　the　end　of　the　block　where　the　crossing　guard　was　standing　in　the　intersection；　holding　up　her　red　〃stop〃　sign；　using　her　free　hand　to　motion　the　kids　across。　Five　of　them　were　in　the　street。　Another　half　dozen　were　approaching　the　corner　and　soon　to　cross。　
　One　of　the　drivers　at　the　nearby　school　vans　said；　〃Mister；　is　something　wrong？〃　Forty　seconds。　
　Jim　dropped　the　suitcase　and　ran　uphill　toward　the　intersection；　still　uncertain　about　what　was　going　to　happen　and　which　child　was　at　risk。　He　was　pushed　in　that　direction　by　the　same　invisible　hand　that　had　made　him　pack　a　suitcase　and　fly　to　Portland。　Startled　kids　moved　out　of　his　way　At　the　periphery　of　his　vision；　everything　had　bee　ink…black。　He　was　aware　only　of　what　lay　directly　ahead　of　him。　From　one　curb　to　the　other　the　intersection　appeared　to　be　a　scene　revealed　by　a　spotlight　on　an　other　wise　night…dark　stage。　
　Half　a　minute。　
　Two　women　looked　up　in　surprise　and　failed　to　get　out　of　his　way　fast　enough。　He　tried　to　dodge　them；　but　he　brushed　against　a　blonde　in　summery　white　dress；　almost　knocking　her　down。　He　kept　going　because　he　could　feel　Death　among　them　now；　a　cold　presence。　
　He　reached　the　intersection；　stepped　off　the　curb；　and　stopped。　Four　kids　in　the　street。　One　was　going　to　be　a　victim。　
　But　which　of　the　four？　And　a　victim　of　what？　Twenty　seconds。　
　The　crossing　guard　was　staring　at　him。　
　All　but　one　of　the　kids　were　nearing　the　curb；　and　Jim　sensed　that　the　walks　were　safe　territory。　The　street　would　be　the　killing　ground。　
　He　moved　toward　the　dawd