thedestroyer.deathcheck-第14节

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s　hand　as　if　examining　it　and　then　replaced　it　precisely　in　the　center　of　the　table。　He　did　the　s…ame　with　the　lighter。
　〃Well；　at　any　rate；〃　he　said。　〃I　just　thought　I'd　ask。　What　I'd　really　like　is　to　get　the　flow　of　your　brain　waves　under　stimulation。　Very　simple　really。〃
　〃What　kind　of　stimulation？；〃　Remo　asked。
　〃Just　photos　flashed　on　a　screen；〃　Schulter　said。
　〃Why　me？〃　Remo　asked。
　〃Why　not？　You're　new　here。　I've　done　everybody　else。〃　Schulter　vanished　into　a　large　cabinet　at　the　other　end　of　the　room；　and　came　out　bearing　a　metal　half…helmet　and　a　film　cartridge　that　he　placed　in　the　movie　projector。
　The　metal　helmet　had　a　long　cord　attached　to　it；　which　Schulter　plugged　into　a　console　panel　on　the　other　side　of　the　room。
　He　flicked　two　switches　and　the　round　eye　of　an　oscilloscope　lit　up　with　a　hum　at　the　top　of　the　console。
　〃Helmet's　an　induction　microphone　really；〃　Schulter　said；　handing　it　to　Remo。　〃Instead　of　sound；　it　picks　up　tiny　electrical　impulses　from　your　brain。　They're　visible　on　the　scope；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　console；　〃and　also　on　a　paper　tape。　For　record　keeping。〃
　Remo　felt　the　helmet。　He　had　seen　one　like　it　before。　It　had　been　lowered　over　his　head　when　he　was　strapped　into　the　electric　chair　at　the　New　Jersey　State　Prison。
　Schulter　was　still　explaining。　〃You　put　the　helmet　on　and　watch　the　screen。　Pictures　appear；　at　prescribed　intervals；　and　the　tape　records　the　change　in　brain　pattern　from　the　stimulus。　Quite　harmless。〃
　Remo　shrugged　and　sat　in　the　chair。　Gingerly；　he　lowered　the　helmet　over　his　head　and　looked　up　at　the　screen。　Flashing　through　his　mind　was　a　ritual　of　Chiun's。　Chiun　would　sit　in　the　lotus　position　and　hum；　a　single　steady　low　pitched　note；　that　he　claimed　drained　the　brain　and　body　of　tension。　Remo　suspected　that　it　stimulated　the　frequency　of　brain…calming　alpha　waves；　perhaps　through　the　direct　vibration　of　the　jawbone　against　the　brain　cavity；　forcing　the　brain　into　producing　them。
　Schulter　sat　down　at　the　console　with　his　back　to　Remo。　The　oscilloscope　was　fully　warmed　now　and　its　hum　echoed　through　the　room。　Schulter　flicked　another　switch　and　the　film　engaged。　Remo　cleared　his　brain　of　distractions　and；　tried　to　emulate　the　low；　humming　note　that　he　had　heard　Chiun　emit　many　times。
　A　picture　lit　up　the　screen。　A　field　of　flowers　gentled　by　the　breeze；　birds　flying　overhead　in　the　sky。　A　control　film　probably　to　get　a　typical　rested　reaction　from　the　subject　against　which　the　others　could　be　pared。
　Remo　hummed；　his　sound　masked　by　the　oscilloscope。
　After　twenty　seconds；　the　flower　scene　gave　way　to　a　splash　of　red。　The　camera　faded　back　and　the　red　turned　out　to　be　a　blotch　of　blood　on　the　white…shirted　chest　of　a　dead　man；　his　eyes　open；　his　face　grinning　idiotically。
　Remo　hummed。
　The　next　picture　showed　munist　Chinese　methodically　gunning　down　Korean　villagers　standing　against　a　wall。
　Remo　hummed。
　The　fourth　scene　showed　a　child　cringing　and　then　a　burly　man　slapping　the　little　child；　hard；　hard　enough　to　make　the　child's　head　snap　back　and　forth。
　Remo　hummed。
　Schulter　flipped　a　switch　and　the　projector　stopped。　Others　switches　turned　off　the　console。　The　scientist　stood　up　and　looked　at　the　long　string　of　paper　tape　in　his　hands。　Remo　stood　up　and　took　the　helmet　off。
　〃Did　I　pass？〃
　Startled；　Schulter　looked　up。　〃Oh；　yes。　Yes。　Quite　good；　really。　Highly　stable。〃
　Remo　tried　to　leer。　〃Maybe　you　should　have　showed　me　some　pornography。　Whips　and　boots。　You　know。　That　might　have　helped。〃
　Schulter's　reaction　was　none　at　all。　If　the　helmet　had　been　on　his　head；　there　would　have　been　no　change。　Pornography　was　just　a　word　to　him。　He　knew　nothing。　Nothing　about　pornography。　Nothing　about　toy　giraffes。　Nothing　about　a　wild…eyed；　black…haired　woman　with　boots　and　a　whip。
　〃Perhaps　we'll　do　the　test　again。　Most　often；　it's　best。〃
　〃Well；　perhaps　some　other　time；　Doctor。〃
　Schulter　waved　Remo　out　of　the　cottage；　absently；　still　studying　the　paper　tape。　He　looked　up　as　Remo　left；　staring　at　the　broad　back　of　the　chief　of　security。　Remo　was　smiling。　And　humming。
　If　the　time　came；　he　thought；　Schulter　would　be　easy。　A　wiring　switch　on　the　helmet　and　a　tragic　laboratory　accident。　A　quite　different　sort　of　accident　from　the　one　which　almost　befell　another　Brewster　Forum　scientist；　five　minutes　later；　at　theyhands　of　Remo　Pelham。　
　
　CHAPTER　THIRTEEN
　
　One　inch　and　one…fiftieth　of　a　second。　Death　had　e　that　close　to　Anthony　J。　Ferrante；　director　of　bio…feedback　research　at　Brewster　Forum。
　Rerno　had　knocked　at　the　white　cottage　door　bearing　Ferrante's　name　and　pushed　the　door　open　when　a　voice　called　〃e　in。〃
　The　desk　facing　the　door　was　empty　when　Remo　entered。　His　eyes　scanned　the　room　looking　for　Ferrante。
　Did　he　hear　the　sound？　Or　did　he　sense　the　infinitesimal　change　in　pressure　as　an　air　mass　moved　toward　his　left　ear？
　Remo　pivoted　to　the　left　on　the　ball　of　his　left　foot。　His　right　foot　extended　behind　him　and　his　body　dropped　into　a　deep　crouch；　in　time　to　see　a　hand　flashing　down　toward　him　in　a　karate　slash。
　There　was　no　time　to　think；　no　need　to　think。　Thousands　of　hours　of　training　and　practice　had　made　defense　automatic　and　retaliation　instinctive。　Remo's　left　hand　flashed　up　to　the　side　of　his　head　to　catch　and　deflect　the　blow　on　his　wrist。　His　right　hand　had　already　retracted　to　his　hip；　and　without　stopping　had　fashioned　itself　into　the　classical　hand　spear　and　was　moving　forward　toward　the　left　kidney　of　the　man　Remo　had　not　yet　seen。
　Remo's　breath　exploded　in　a　violent　cry　of　〃ai…ee〃　as　his　iron　hand　flashed　on　toward　its　target。　As　it　finished　its　deadly　course；　Remo　felt；　rather　than　saw；　his　opponent's　hand　stop　on　its　downward　path　before　making　contact。　The　man　had　pulled　his　punch。
　Attack　is　instinctive；　triggered　by　the　spinal　column；　its　message　bypassing　the　brain　and　moving　directly　to　the　muscles。　But　calling　off　an　attack？　That　is　an　act　of　intellect；　belonging　to　the　brain；　and　the　brain　was　not　swift　enough　to　stop　Remo's　hand；　to　relax　the　braided　rope　muscles　of　his　arm；　to　soften　the　intensity　of　these　gently　curled　fingertips　which　could　smash　cinder　blocks　into　powder。
　Remo's　brain　did　the　best　it　could　in　one…fiftieth　of　a　second。　It　changed　the　course　of　his　hand　one　inch。　The　hand　spear　slid　over　the　hip　bone　of　his　opponent；　past　the　vulnerable　kidney；　and　crashed　into　a　wooden　coat　rack　standing　alongside　his　assailant。　Fingers　hit　wood　with　the　crack　of　a　china　dish　splintering　on　a　stone　floor。　The　top　half　of　the　coat　rack　paused　drunkenly；　then　fell　to　the　floor；　its　two…inch　thick　wooden　support　split　cleanly　by　the　killing　power　of　Remo's　hand。
　His　opponent　looked　at　the　coat　rack。　Remo　looked　at　his　assailant　for　the　first　time　and　a　saw　a　husky；　middle…aged　man　wearing　the　classic　judogi；　a　black　sash　wrapped　low　around　his　waist。　He　had　a　plexion　like　oiled　olives。　Dark　rings　surrounded　his　eyes；　seeming　even　darker　in　contrast　to　his　highly…glossed　bald　head。　It　was　Ferrante。
　Remo's　left　hand　snaked　out　and　snared　Ferrante's　right　hand。　His　thumb　insinuated　itself　into　a　ganglion　of　nerves　on　the　back　of　the　hand；　just　alongside　the　base　of　the　index　finger。　The　move　brought　excruciating　pain　and　immediate　submission。
　The　man　screamed。　〃Stop　it。　I'm　Ferrante。〃　His　eyes　met　Remo's　in　pained；　embarrassed　truth。
　Remo　squeezed　once　more；　then　released　the　hand。　〃What　the　hell　does　that　make　you？　The　mugger　in　residence？〃
　〃I　wasn't　going　to　hit　you；〃　Ferrante　said；　rubbing　his　damaged　hand。　〃I　just　wanted　to　see　how　good　you　are。　After　yesterday。〃　He　looked　at　the　fractured　coat　rack。　〃You're　good。〃
　Remo　backed　away　to　let　the　man　move　from　the　corner　behind　the　door。　He　breathed　deeply；　slowly；　to　drain　the　tension；　to　allow　his　body　to　back　off　the　heroic　blast　of　adrenalin　that　had　flooded　his　muscles。
　Well；　that　was　it。　If　the　word　came；　Ferrante　would　die　in　the　gymnasium　of。　a　broken　neck；　suffered　in　an　incorrect　judo　fall。　Remo　would　take　great　pleasure　in　bouncing　him　off　a　wall。
　Ferrante　walked　slowly　back　to　his　desk；　still　rubbing　his　hand；　eyes　on　Remo；　spewing　apologies。　Remo　began　to　feel　sorry　tor　the　karate　buff；　for　his　pain；　for　his　embarrassment。　He　wondered　what　Ferrante　would　think　if　he　saw　the　pornographic　photos　of　himself　wearing　only　the　top　of　his　judo　garb。　If　he　hadn't　seen　them　already。
　Ferrante　was　still　talking；　still　apologizing。　〃Look；　it　was　stupid。　How　about　if　we　forget　it　happened；　and　start　al！　over？　You're　probably　wondering　why　you're　here。　What　we　do　here。〃
　Remo　grunted。　He　wasn't　ready　to　forgive　and　forget　yet。
　〃What　we　do　here　is　study　the　mind。　How　it　works。　Each　of　us　has　a　different　discipline。　Mine　is　biofeedback。　Basically　that　means　using　the　pain…pleasure　principle　to　train　people　to　regulate　their　involuntary　body
functions。　For　instance；　we've　had　some　great　success　in　training　people　to　slow　their　pulse　rate。　If　their　rate　goes
too　high；　they　receive　a　small　electric　shock。　As　their　pulse　rate　drops　toward　the　goal；　they　receive　a　pleasurable
electronic　impulse。〃
　〃What　good　is　it？〃　Remo　asked。
　〃Well；　medically；　it's　very　important。　We　could　help