dk.nightchills-第27节

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　〃Yes。　Burning　up。　Do　it。　Now。〃　〃Klinger　and　his　damned　chorus　girls。〃　〃Klinger？〃
　〃Probably　queer　anyway。〃
　〃Are　you　going　to　do　it？〃
　〃Tear　you　up。　Big　as　a　horse。〃　〃Yes。　I　want　it。　I'm　hot。〃
　〃I　think　maybe　Miriam　was　queer。〃
　Tat…tat…tat…tat…tat…tat…tat…tat　。
　At　five　o'clock　Monday　afternoon；　Buddy　Pellineri；　just　out　of　bed　with　seven　hours　to　pass　before　he　had　to　report　to　work　at　the　mill；　went　to　Edison's　store　to　see　if　any　new　magazines　had　been　put　on　the　racks。　His　favorites　were　the　ones　that　had　a　lot　of　pictures　in　them：　People；　Travel；　Nevada；　Arizona　Highways；　Vermont　Life；　a　few　of　the　photography　journals。　He　found　two　issues　that　he　didn't　have　and　took　them　to　the　counter　to　pay　for　them。
　Jenny　was　at　the　cash　register。　She　was　wearing　a　white　blouse　with　yellow　flowers　on　it。　Her　long　black　hair　looked　freshly　washed；　thick　and　shiny。　〃You　look　so　pretty；　Miss　Jenny。〃
　〃Why；　thank　you；　Buddy。〃
　He　blushed　and　wished　he　had　said　nothing。　She　said；　〃Is　the　world　treating　you　right？〃
　〃No　plaints。〃
　〃I'm　glad　to　hear　it。〃
　〃How　much　I　owe　you？〃
　〃Do　you　have　two　dollars？〃
　He　thrust　a　hand　into　his　pocket；　came　out　with　some　change　and　rumpled　bills。　〃Sure。　Here。〃
　〃You　get　three　quarters　in　change；〃　she　said。
　〃I　thought　they　cost　more。〃
　〃Now；　you　know　you　get　a　discount　here。〃
　〃I'll　pay。　Don't　want　special　treatment。〃
　〃You're　a　close　friend　of　the　family；〃　she　said；　shaking　a　finger　at　him。　〃We　give　discounts　to　all　close　friends　of　the　family。　Sam　would　be　angry　if　you　didn't　accept　that。　You　put　those　quarters　in　your　pocket。〃
　〃Well　。　。　。　thanks。〃
　〃You're　wele；　Buddy。〃
　〃Is　Sam　here？〃
　'She　pointed　to　the　curtained　doorway。　〃Upstairs。　He's　getting　dinner。
　〃I　ought　to　tell　him。〃
　〃Tell　him　what？〃　she　asked。
　〃About　this　thing　I　saw。〃
　〃Can't　you　tell　me？〃
　〃Well　。　。　。　Better　him。〃
　〃You　may　go　up　and　see　him；　if　you　like。〃
　The　invitation　frightened　him。　He　was　never　fortable　in　other　people's　houses。　〃You　have　cats　up　there？〃
　〃Cats？　No。　No　pets　at　all。〃
　He　knew　she　wouldn't　lie　to　him…but　then；　cats　turned　up　in　the　most　unexpected　places。　Two　weeks　after　his　mother　died；　he　was　asked　to　visit　the　parsonage。　Reverend　Potter　and　Mrs。　Potter　had　taken　him　straight　to　the　parlor　where　she　had　served　homemade　cakes　and　cookies。　He　sat　on　the　divan；　knees　together；　hands　in　his　lap。　Mrs。　Potter　made　hot　chocolate。　Reverend　Potter　poured　for　everyone。　The　two　of　them　sat　opposite　Buddy　in　a　pair　of　wing…backed　chairs。　For　a　while　everything　was　so　nice。　He　ate　the　gingerbread　and　the　little　cookies　with　red　and　green　sugar　on　them　and　he　drank　the　cocoa　and　smiled　a　lot　and　talked　a　little…and　then　a　big　white　furry　cat　leaped　over　his　shoulder；　onto　his　lap；　claws　digging　in　for　an　instant；　from　his　lap　to　the　floor。　He　didn't　even　know　they　had　a　cat。　Was　that　fair？　Not　to　tell　him？　It　had　crept　onto　the　window　sill　behind　the　divan。　How　long　had　it　been　there？　All　the　while　he　ate？　Paralyzed　with　fear；　unable　to　speak；　wanting　to　scream；　he　spilled　his　chocolate　on　the　carpet　and　wet　himself。　Peed　in　his　pants　right　on　the　preacher's　brocade　divan。　What　a　stain。　It　was　awful。　An　awful　day。　He　never　went　back　there　again；　and　he　stopped　going　to　church　as　well；　even　if　he　might　go　to　hell　for　that。
　〃Buddy？〃
　She　startled　him。　〃What？〃
　〃Do　you　want　to　go　upstairs　and　see　Sam？〃
　Picking　up　his　magazines；　he　said；　〃No。　No。　I'll　tell　him　some　time。　Some　other　time。　Not　now。〃　He　started　toward　the　door。
　〃Buddy？〃
　He　glanced　back。
　〃Is　something　wrong？〃　she　asked。
　〃No。〃　He　forced　a　laugh。　〃No。　Nothing。　World's　treating　me　okay。〃　He　hurried　out　of　the　store。
　On　the　other　side　of　Main　Street；　back　in　his　two…room　apartment；　he　went　to　the　bathroom　and　peed；　opened　a　bottle　of　Coca…Cola；　and　sat　down　at　the　kitchen　table　to　look　at　his　magazines。　First　thing；　he　paged　through　both　of　them；　search。　ing　for　articles　about　cats　and　pictures　of　cats　and　advertisements　for　cat　food。　He　found　two　pages　in　each　magazine　that　offended　him；　and　he　tore　them　out　at　once；　regardless　of　what　was　on　the　backs　of　them。　Methodically；　he　ripped　each　page。　into　hundreds　of　tiny　pieces　and　threw　the　resultant　heap　of　confetti　into　the　wastebasket。　Only　then　was　he　prepared　to　relax　and　look　at　the　pictures。
　Halfway　through　the　first　magazine；　he　came　across　an　article　about　a　team　of　skin　divers　who　were；　it　seemed　to　him；　trying　to　uncover　an　ancient　treasure　ship。　He　couldn't　read　more　than　two　words　out　of　five；　but　he　studied　the　pictures　with　great　interest…and　suddenly　was　reminded　of　what　he　had　seen　in　the　woods　that　night。　Near　the　mill。　When　he　was　taking　a　pee。　At　a　quarter　of　five　in　the　morning；　on　the　day　he'd　so　carefully　marked　on　his　calendar。　Skin　divers。　ing　down　from　the　reservoir。　Carrying　flashlights。　And　guns。　It　was　such　a　silly　thing；　he　couldn't　forget　it。　Such　a　funny。　。　。　such　a　scary　thing。　They　didn't　belong　where　he　had　seen　them。　They　hadn't　been　hunting　for　treasure；　not　at　night；　not　up　in　the　reservoir。
　What　had　they　been　doing？
　He'd　thought　about　that　for　ever　so　long；　but　he　simply　couldn't　figure　it　out。　He　wanted　to　ask　someone　to　explain　it；　but　he　knew　they'd　laugh　at　him。
　Last　week；　however；　he　realized　that　there　was　someone　in　Black　River　who　would　listen　to　him；　who　would　believe　him　and　wouldn't　laugh　no　matter　how　silly　the　story　was。　Sam。　Sam　always　had　time　for　him；　even　before　his　mother　died。　Sam　never　made　fun　of　him　or　talked　down　to　him　or　hurt　his　feel…
　ings。　Furthermore；　so　far　as　Buddy　was　concerned；　Sam　Edison　was　easily　the　smartest　person　in　town。　He　knew　just　about　everything；　or　Buddy　thought　he　did。　If　there　was　anyone　who　could　explain　to　him　what　he　had　seen；　it　was　Sam。
　On　the　other　hand；　he　didn't　want　to　look　like　a　fool　in　Sam's　eyes。　He　was　determined　to　give　himself　every　chance　to　work　out　the　answer　first。　That　was　why　he　had　delayed　going　to　Sam　since　he　had　remembered　him　last　Wednesday。
　A　while　ago　in　the　store；　he　finally　was　ready　to　let　Sam　take　over　his　thinking　for　him。　But　Sam　was　upstairs；　in　rooms　that　were　unfamiliar　to　Buddy；　and　that　raised　the　question　of　cats。
　Now　he　had　more　time　to　puzzle　it　out　on　his　own。　If　Sam　was　in　the　store　the　next　time　Buddy　went　there；　he　would　tell　him　the　story。　But　not　for　a　few　days　yet。　He　sat　in　the　patterned　late…afternoon　sunlight　that　came　through　the　curtain；　drank　Coca…Cola；　and　wondered。
　8
　Eight　Months　Earlier：
　Saturday；　December　18；　1976
　IN　THE　PUTER　CENTER　of　the　sealed　wing　of　the　Greenwich　house；　seven　days　before　Christmas；　the　monitor　boards　and　systems　bulbs　and　cathode…ray　tubes　and　glowing　scopes；　although　they　were　mostly　red　and　green；　had　not　reminded　Salsbury　of　the　holiday。
　When　he　entered　the　room；　his　first　time　there　in　months；　Klinger　looked　around　at　the　lights　and　said；　〃Very　Christmasy。〃
　Strangely　enough；　it　was　rather　Christmasy。
　However；　because　he　hadn't　perceived　something　which　had　registered　with　the　general　in　mere　seconds；　Salsbury　felt　uneasy。　For　almost　two　years　now；　day　and　night；　he　had　been　telling　himself　that　he　must　be　quicker；　sharper；　more　cunning；　and　more　forward…thinking　than　either　of　his　partners…if　he　was　to　keep　his　partners　from　eventually　putting　a　bullet　in　his　head　and　burying　him　at　the　southern　end　of　the　estate　beside　Brian　Kingman。　Which　was　surely　what　they　had　in　mind　for　him。　And　for　each　other。　Either　that　or　slavery　through　the　keylock　program。　Therefore；　it　was　quite　disturbing　to　him　that　Klinger…hairy；　flat…faced　gorilla　that　he　was…should　make；　of　all　things；　an　aesthetic　observation　before　Salsbury　himself　had　made　it。
　The　Only　way　he　could　deal　with　his　own　uneasiness　was　to
　put　the　general　off　his　stride　as　quickly　as　possible。　〃You　can't　smoke　in　here。　Put　that　out　at　once。〃
　Rolling　the　cheroot　from　the　center　of　his　thick　lips　to　one　side；　Klinger　said；　〃Oh；　surely…〃
　〃The　delicate　machinery；〃　Salsbury　said　sharply；　gesturing　at　the　Christmasy　lights。
　Klinger　took　the　slender　cigar　from　his　mouth　and　appeared　to　be　about　to　drop　it　on　the　floor。
　〃The　waste　can。〃
　When　he　had　disposed　of　the　cheroot；　the　general　said；　〃Sorry。〃
　Salsbury　said；　〃That's　all　right。　You're　not　familiar　with　a　place　like　this；　with　puters　and　all　of　that。　You　couldn't　be　expected　to　know。〃
　And　he　thought：　Score　one　for　me。
　〃Where's　Leonard？〃　Klinger　asked。
　〃He　won't　be　here。〃
　〃For　such　an　important　test？〃
　〃He　wishes　it　weren't　necessary。〃
　〃Pontius　Pilate。〃
　〃What？〃
　Looking　at　the　ceiling　as　if　he　could　see　through　it；　Klinger　said；　〃Up　there　washing　his　hands。〃
　Salsbury　wasn't　about　to　take　part　in　any　conversation　meant　to　dissect　or　analyze　Dawson。　He　had　taken　every　measure　to　protect　himself　from　any　attempt　on　Dawson's　part　to　plant　bugs　in　his　work　area。　He　didn't　believe　it　was　possible　for　anyone　to　spy　on　him　while　he　was　in　here。　But　he　couldn't　be　positively；　absolutely　certain　of　that。　Under　the　circumstances；　he　felt　that　paranoia　was　a　rational　vantage　point　from　which　to　view　the　world。
　〃What　all　have　you　got　to　show　me？〃　Klinger　asked。　〃For　a　start；　I　thought　you'd　want