thedestroyer.deathcheck-第8节

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　〃That's　right。〃
　〃I　like　you。　e；　take　me　into　the　office。〃
　Remo　walked　into　an　office　off　the　living　room。　And　he　was　horrified　to　learn　that　this　was　where　Nils　Brewster　did　most　of　his　work；　that　the　papers　scattered　about　were　the　thinking　of　Brewster　Forum；　and　no　doubt　contained　that　little　plan　for　world　conquest。　No　gates；　no　locks；　and　a　six…year…old　girl　who　said；
　〃I　don't　understand　that　yet；　but　you　can　read　it。　But　leave　the　papers　in　the　same　order。　Daddy's　fussy。〃
　Leave　them　in　the　same　order。　Her　father　might　die　for　those　papers　because　he　was　fussy　and　left　them　in　the　same　order。　Remo　felt　sick。
　But　he　forced　himself　to　think　of　millions　of　people　and　their　lives。　He　stretched　thousands　out　on　roads；　smiling；　holding　hands；　every　home　in　America；　every　family；　every　crowd。　And　he　knew　that　if　the　word　came；　he　would　do　his　duty　and　kill…even　if　it　was　the　glorious；　brilliant　Nils　Brewster；　and　even　though　his　death　would　shatter　this　delicious　child；　Stephanie。
　It　was　Remo's　good　fortune　that　he　soon　met　Nils　Brewster；　and　the　meeting　made　his　possible　assignment　a　great　deal　easier。
　
　CHAPTER　EIGHT
　
　Nils　Brewster　was　not　dressed　in　chains　as　he　had　been　for　his　nude　portrait。　He　wore　a　short…sleeved　blue　shirt；　chinos　and　sneakers。　His　hair　flew　about　his　head　like　tornado…whipped　tumbleweed。
　Stephanie　had　gone　off　to　tell　her　mother　about　the　new　director　of　security；　and　had　left　Remo　in　the　only　large　building　hi　the　pound　that　might　have　housed　a　laboratory。　It　did　not。　It　was　an　auditorium；　now　filled　with　people　crowded　around　tables。
　The　first　thing　Doctor　Brewster　said　to　Remo　was：　〃Shhhhh。〃
　〃I'm　Remo　Pelham；　the　new。。。。〃
　〃I　know；　I　know。　Shhhhhh。'〃
　He　turned　and　Remo　followed。　It　was　a　chess　tourna　ment。　Remo　would　learn　later　that　Brewster　Forum　had　not　only　a　chess　tournament；　but　a　chess　instructor；　a　tennis　pro；　a　golf　pro；　a　singing　teacher；　a　karate　instructor；　a　musical　conductor；　its　own　little　newspaper　published　for　the　twenty…three　people　who　could　understand　what　was　going　on　in　the　forum；　including　to　Remo's　awesome　shock；　a　Russian…and　a　sky…diving　coach。
　〃We　provide　what　people　need　or　ask　for；〃　Brewster　told　him　later。
　〃No　skiing？〃
　〃The　weather's　not　right　here。　We　send　our　people　who　want　to　learn　to　the　Big　Boulder　Ski　School　at　Lake　Harmony。　They　teach　natur　teknik；　the　best　method　of　learning。　You　learn　parallel　right　away。〃
　〃That's　nice；〃　Remo　would　say；　wondering　for　just　a　moment　if　Nils　Brewster　had　not　devised　the　most　beautiful　hustle　of　the　Twentieth　Century。
　But　that　afternoon；　it　was　chess。　A　pudgy　man　with　bulging　brown　eyes　and　flicking　wrists　was　in　an　endgame　with　a　hulk　of　a　whitehaired　man　who　hovered　over　the　board　like　a　weightlifter　preparing　himself　for　a　record　hoist。　The　pudge　was　Dr。　James　Ratchett；　the　homosexual　in　the　cape；　versus　the　Jesuit　of　the　missionary　position。
　Ratchett　spied　Remo　and　pointed　a　delicate　finger。　〃Who　is　that？〃　he　asked。　It　was　an　obvious　ploy　to　divert　Father　Boyle's　attention　away　from　the　board　because；　on　the　two　buttoned　clock；　it　was　Father　Boyle's　time　running　out。
　〃The　new　security　director；〃　whispered　Brewster。
　〃Our　new　flatfoot；〃　taunted　Ratchett。
　〃Shhhhh；〃　said　Brewster　to　Remo　before　Remo　said　anything。
　〃Are　you　Irish　like　our　deceased　Mister　McCarthy？〃
　Remo　said　nothing。　He　just　stared　at　the　board。
　Remo　had　been　taught　chess　and　did　not　like　it。　He　had　been　taught　chess；　not　for　the　intricacy　of　the　moves　nor　for　the　concentration　it　required。　He　was　taught　chess　simply　to　realize　that　each　move　changed　the　board。　It　was　something　people　tended　to　forget　in　life；　that　every　move　altered　things　in　some　way　and　that　preconceived　operations　needed　flexibility　to　be　worthwhile。　Basically；　chess　taught　Remo　how　to　look。　He　looked　now　around　the　room　and　saw　the　karate　lover；　in　clothes　this　time；　watching　closely。　Another　interested　observer　was　a　man　in　a　dark　suit　and　dark　tie；　who　Remo　found　out　later　was　the　chess　instructor。
　〃I　asked　you　a　question；　cop；〃　said　Ratchett。　〃Are　you　Irish　like　our　deceased　Mister　McCarthy？〃
　〃Shhhhh；〃　said　Brewster　angrily　to　Remo　who　was　silent。
　〃When　I　speak　to　you；　you　will　answer　me；〃　said　Ratchett；　huffing　himself　in　his　chair。　〃Answer　me。〃
　〃I　don't　think　I'm　Irish；〃　Remo　said。　It　was　a　bland　tone；　one　used　for　getting　rid　of　annoying　questions　and　questioners。
　〃You　don't　think　you're　Irish。　You　don't　think。　Don't　you　know？　After　all；　I　thought　all　Irishmen　knew　they　were　Irish。　Otherwise；　why　would　the　little　dears　all　bee　policemen　and　priests？　I'm　playing　against　a　priest；　now；　you　know。〃
　Father　Boyle　did　not　look　up；　but　moved　his　rook　from　an　inactive　corner　to　the　center　of　the　board。　Ordinarily；　it　would　not　be　a　bad　move。　But　now　it　was　a　bad　move　because　Ratchett　had　more　men　attacking　the　square　than　the　priest　had　defending。　Under　those　circumstances；　the　priest　would　succumb。
　Ratchett　was　suddenly　quiet　and　on　the　board　with　all　his　attention。　Father　Boyle　looked　over　his　shoulder　and　extended　his　hand　to　Remo。　〃Hi；　I'm　Bob　Boyle。　We're　all　a　little　bit　nuts　here。　I　think　it's　a　function　of　intelligence。〃
　〃I'm　Remo　Pelham；〃　said　Remo；　taking　the　hand。　Well；　pleasant　or　not；　the　priest　would　go　with　the　rest　if　the　word　came　down。　Remo　wasn't　a　judge；　just　an　operative。
　〃Shhhh；〃　said　Nils　Brewster。
　〃Get　off　it；　Nils；〃　said　the　priest。 …
　〃He's　not　to　disturb　anyone；〃　Brewster　snapped　back。　〃I　don't　really　like　his　presence　here　in　the　first　place。　If　we　didn't　need　federal　funding；　I　wouldn't　allow　him　on　the　premises。　You　know　how　they　are；　the　whole　fascistic　mentality。〃
　〃You're　the　biggest　fascist　I've　ever　met；　Nils。　And　also　the　worst　snob。　Now　get　off　it。〃
　Ratchett；　red　faced；　snapped　a　piece　angrily　down　on　the　board；　putting　more　pressure　on　the　imperilled　square。
　〃What　is　going　on　here。？〃　he　screamed。　〃Why　must　I　suffer　these　indignities　from　a　cop？　Everytime　I　move；　someone's　yelling。　Yelling。　Yelling；〃　Ratchett's　voice　rose　like　a　happy　hawk。　His　hands　twittered　violently。　His　fat　face　flushed。
　〃You　Irish　bastards　are　in　league　to　defeat　me。　That's　why　you're　here。　It's　a　plot…that's　all　you　Irish　are　good　for。　Why　don't　you　stop　skulking　around　trying　to　upset　me。　and　act　like　a　man？　Tell　Boyle　how　to　move。　Go　ahead。　Go　ahead。　Make　your　perfidy　plete。　Go　ahead。
　〃Look　everyone。　A　cop　is　going　to　help　Father　Boyle　play　chess。　A　cop　who　plays　chess。〃　Ratchett　laughed　out　a　haughty　condemnation　and　looked　around　for　approval。　Finding　none　in　the　onlooking　faces；　he　increased　his　vehemence。
　〃I　demand　you　tell　Father　Boyle　how　to　win。　He　can　use　your　help。　Anyone　who　believes　in　God　can　use　all　the　help　he　can　get。　Go　ahead。　Right　now。　No　protest。　There　are　two　possible　ways　he　can　win。　I　am　assuming　you　know　chess。　Father　Boyle　does　not。　Tell　him　how。〃
　It　was　the　three　months　of　peak　that　got　to　Remo；　the　three　months　of　staying　where　he　should　not　have　stayed　mentally　or　physically。　That　and　Brewster　Forum　and　these　lunatics　and　being　told　that　he　must　arrange　for　the　deaths　of　these　harmless　twits；　just　because　their　brilliance　might　lead　them　to　a　wrong　corridor。
　So　Remo　made　a　mistake。　Even　before　he　knew　what　he　was　doing；　he　said：
　〃There　are　three　ways　Father　Boyle　can　beat　you。　The　first　two　require　an　error　on　your　part。　But　the　third　he　can　do　alone。　His　knight　to　your'Rook　3；　uncovering　check　by　the　queen。　It's　a　smothered　mate　in　three。〃　…　
　Remo　had　spoken　softly；　almost　like　the　tender　point　of　a　sermon。　At　first　Ratchett　was　going　to　laugh；　then　his　face　became　blank。　It　was　obvious　he　had　not　seen　the　move。　And　as　the　move　became　apparent　to　others　in　the　audience　there　were　little　sounds。　And　Father　Boyle　began　to　laugh；　a　full　hearty　laugh；　and　others　laughed　with　him；　and　Ratchett　became　white。　White　hot。　If　man　could　bee　hate；　Dr。　James　Ratchett　was　hate。
　Remo　did　not　laugh；　because　he　knew　he　should　be　spanked。　Lectures　were　for　grownups　and　beatings　were　for　men。　But　spankings　were　for　little　boys　who　took　up　prideful　challenges　that　could　so　easily　get　them　killed。　Stupid。　Stupid；　Remo　thought。　You　entered　as　a　dumb　cop　and　lest　anyone　spot　you　as　a　real　danger　by　some　accident；　you　went　out　of　your　way　to　let　them　know　that　maybe　you　weren't　so　dumb。　A　cop；　all　right；　but　a　cop　to　be　watched。　The　greenest　rookie　wouldn't　do　something　that　stupid。　Give　away　surprise　and　you　give　away　your　life。　How　the　lecture　had　been　drilled　into　him；　and　how　logical　it　was：
　〃You　must　isolate　what　you　wish　to　do。　Most　personal　assaults　fail　because　they　attempt　to　do　too　much；　not　the　least　of　which　is　to　gain　respect　from　your　target。〃　Those　were　the　words　of　Chiun；　the　instructor。
　〃That's　stupid；〃　Rerno　had　answered。　〃No　one　would　do　that。〃
　〃Most　people　do；〃　said　Chiun　quietly。　〃They　show　off　for　their　victim。　This　is　because　they　wish　not　so　much　to　harm　the　other　person　as　to　force　the　other　to　recognize　their　superiority。　You　see　it　even　among　prize　fighters。　How　foolish。
　〃If　you　learn　no　other　lesson；　learn　this　one；　and　it　will　do　more　to　keep　you　alive　than　any　other。　The　most　dangerous　man　is　the　man　who　does