thedestroyer.deathcheck-第12节
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instructor； who said something about 〃a game some time。〃
But Remo wasn't paying attention。 He was looking for one who wasn't there； the black…haired beauty who had vanished into the last cottage as soon as the fight ended。
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was noon； and as he did every day； Remo checked Dial…a…Prayer in Chicago。 The Reverend Sminstershoop was still in Psalms。
Genesis would have begun a get…ready countdown。 Ec…clesiastes would have given Remo a day to …finish his assignment。 Deuteronomy meant all plans out the window； wipe out the place and split。
But Psalms just meant another day at peak readiness。 Yea； though he walked through the valley of death； he could not relax； let the tension drain； recoup his powers。 He feared only the evil of diminishing every day。 Already； if he were to risk the cat fall； he knew he would not just make a sound； he would probably get a concussion。
So he spoke a number into the tape recording。 The number was of his telephone booth with the area code placed last； the traditional way of destroying as many links as possible； even if those links were to your own people； monitoring ining phone calls for people they did not know。
And he hung up； not by returning the receiver； but by leaning his phone arm down on the cradle。 He kept it there five minutes while chattering away to no one。 On the first buzz before the bell engaged in the first ring； Remo released the cradle。
〃It's me；〃 he said； that being enough identification。 At one time he had a number； but he could never remember it； and Smith finally told him to forget it。 〃Look； I spoke with everyone but the woman here。 And I don't believe the pictures。 Were the photos possibly phonys？〃
〃No。 We got the original negatives。 We matched the grains right from the beginning。 Why do you ask？〃
〃I just wanted to be helpful。〃
〃Don't be helpful。 The photos aren't your primary purpose there。 Have you arranged for。。。 for whatever might be necessary？〃 Even on a scrambled phone that could not be tapped； Smith was cautious。
〃That's all done；〃 Remo said。 〃This is a togetherness joint。 Every night； all the boys gather around the recreation room。 Give me five minutes and I can rig the air…conditioning to do the job。〃
〃How about individuals？〃
〃No problem there； either。 I can talk them all to death。〃
〃Is that supposed to be funny？ What the hell is the matter with you。 You're getting。。。 unstable。〃
Remo knew that was the second worst word in Smith's vocabulary。 Worst was 〃inpetent。〃
〃I want to go off peak。〃
〃No。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃Because you're on a job。〃
〃I'm losing my edge。〃
〃Don't give me that gymnasium talk。 Edge this； peak that。 Just stay in shape。〃
〃I'm slipping。〃
〃You'll do。〃
〃I'm going slowly crazy。〃
〃You always were。〃
〃I think I'm getting inpetent。〃
〃Would one day help？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃One day might be all right。 Yes。 Take it if you need it。 But don't make it a big day。 We don't know what the sister agencies might e up with； and when you might have to move。〃
〃Okay。〃 Remo changed the subject before Smith had a chance to change his mind。 〃Did you get the package I sent you？ The wallets？〃
〃Yes。 We're working on them； but they're difficult to trace。 By the way。。。…。〃
〃No more 'by the ways'。〃
〃By the way；〃 Smith persisted。 〃Have you found out what they do there？ I mean。。。 their little plan？〃
〃You wouldn't understand it if I told you；〃 Remo said； hanging up。 He was already halfway toward being an intellectual； the main ingredient being to have someone around to be a non…intellectual。
Maybe that's what the forum was all about。 An elaborate hustle。 Remo didn't believe that any of the scientists at Brewster Forum； up to and including its founder； could have produced a plan to conquer a phone booth。 Not one of the scientists had given even a hint of doing any kind of work the government might possibly think was important。 And Remo had talked to all of them； except for the dark…haired beauty； Dr。 Deborah Hirshbloom。
Strangely enough； he already liked them。 Very smart； Remo。 Now all you have to do is to fall in love with Dr。 Deborah Hirshbloom。 That would really be smart。
Perhaps if he had been trained to work up a hate。 Professional football players do it。 Why not him？ Because； sweetheart； you were taught to work up a nothing。 Start hating and that's the next best thing to loving for making you inpetent。 Shit； next thing you know； you'll be a human being。 And then look where all that wonderful money would go。 Down the drain。 All that money that was spent to make you the wonderful nothing you are。 A man who can hold his arm extended； absolutely motionless； not one shake； for fifty…three minutes。 Let's hear it for the geniuses who run this country。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush。
Staying at peak does wonders for the mental processes。 Yes； Remo； talk to yourself。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush。
You've heard of the right hand not knowing what the left is doing。 Well； our cuticles don't know what our knuckles are doing。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush。
Okay； pal； slow down。 That lady in the car saw you laughing to yourself。 Slow it down。 Move the oxygen around。 Go back to that room they gave you during training。 You remember the room。 The quiet room。 Remember every detail； just how it felt。 Quiet room。 Black carpeting。 The couch。
〃You can always e back to this room in your mind；〃 Chiun had said。 〃This is your safety； your retreat。 When your mind or your body needs rest； e back。 You are safe here。 And loved here。 No one may enter whom you do not invite。 Just send vour mind back here。〃
And Remo went back to the room and just sat with Chiun as he had sat before。 And his mind cooled and some strength returned。 The woman's face was familiar。 Or was it？ People are recognized more by the way they walk or hold their head than by features。 Features are only the final； the last； proof of recognition。
It was a hard face； a very old thirty five； under smooth flaxen hair。 She rested a bare arm on the window opening of the convertible。
〃Hi there； fella。 How are you？〃
〃Do I know you？〃
〃No； but I know you。 The chess game。 You couldn't see me。 Magnificent move。〃
〃Oh；〃 said Retno。
〃I'm Anna Stohrs。 Dr。 Stohrs' daughter； the chess instructor。 I'm also president of the daughters' association of Brewster Forum。〃
〃A lot of daughters here？〃
〃Yes； but none like me。〃
〃That's nice；〃 Remo said。。
〃I think you're cute。 Let's。〃
〃Let's what？〃
〃You know。〃
〃No。〃
〃Why not？〃。
〃I'm a virgin。〃。；。
〃I don't believe you。〃
〃Okay； I'm not a virgin；〃 Remo agreed。
He could see her play her eyes down his body； lingering at his groin。
〃Would you do it for pay？〃 she asked。
〃No。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃You think you're cute； don't you？〃
She smiled an even…toothed smile； an attractive but hard smile。 She tilted her head back in arrogance。 〃I know I'm cute； copper。〃
She had switched tactics； to pricking the ego； setting herself as a tough prize； much like the heroine of a lovely little novel Remo had once read。 He leaned into the car。
〃Not caring about someone；〃 he said； 〃is apologizing。 I apologize。 I have an appointment。〃
And he left for the circle of the Forum； to attempt to track down Doctor Hirshbloom； to finish the set…up on her before he took his wonderful day off。
Strange about her。 All the other scientists had sought him out after the incident with the cycle gang。 Father Boyle had been the first interview and a surprisingly difficult fix。 Like most Jesuits； he made a career of not seeming like a priest； while deeply acting out his faith。
He sat with his big feet on his very little desk。 Remo had learned to distrust people who sat with their feet on the desk。 It was usually a e…on by ho； ho； ho； one…big…happy…family fakers trying to get a hustler's edge。
But Remo was willing to forgive and forget in Boyle's case； especially since Boyle had been the only man at the chess tournament the first night to act like a human being。
Now Remo found himself looking at the gargantuan soles of the mammoth shoes on the heroic feet of the Rev。 Robert A。 Boyle； S。 J。 The Sorbonne。 M。I。T。 Anthropologist。 Classical Scholar。 Mathematician。 Director of Bio…cycle Analysis at Brewster Forum。
Remo ran his mind back over the pornographic photos of Boyle。 Yes； they had shown his giant feet。 Remo had seen them； memorized them； but they had not registered。 His perceptions were slipping。 It was the three month peak。 He was falling apart。
〃Well？〃 Boyle had sat up at the desk and was looking at Remo。
〃Well what？〃
〃I was wondering what you thought of our looney bin。〃
〃A great place to visit。 I wouldn't want to live here。〃
〃Not much chance of that。 Your presence here seems to have a deleterious effect on the quietude of our little rest home。 First； making Ratchett look silly at the chess tournament。 And then yesterday that show with those hooligans。〃
〃It's what I get paid for；〃 Remo answered laconically。 Stop being a nice guy； he thought。 Be a bastard。 Then I can figure out a way to kill you； without any regrets。
〃I'll have to ask you a lot of questions；〃 Boyle said。
〃Is there any reason I should answer them？〃
