dk.intensity-第31节

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　In　addition　to　the　house；　there　is　a　small　barn；　not　because　the　original　owner　of　the　property　farmed　any　of　the　land　that　he　cleared　of　trees　but　because　he　kept　horses。　This　second　building　is　of　traditional　wood…frame　construction　on　a　concrete　footing　and　fieldstone　stem　wall；　wind；　rain；　and　sun　long　ago　laid　down　a　silver　patina　on　the　durable　cedar　siding；　which　Vess　finds　lovely。
　Since　he　owns　no　horses；　he　uses　the　barn　as　a　garage。　Now；　however；　he　pulls　to　a　stop　beside　the　house；　rather　than　continuing　to　the　barn。　The　woman　is　in　the　motor　home；　and　he　will　soon　need　to　deal　with　her。　He　prefers　to　park　here；　where　he　can　watch　her　from　the　house　and　wait　for　developments。
　He　glances　at　the　rearview　mirror。　Still　no　sign　of　her。　Switching　off　the　engine　but　not　the　windshield　wipers；　Vess　waits　for　his　guards　to　appear。　The　late…March　morning　is　animate　with　slanting　rain　and　wind…shaken　things；　but　nothing　moves　of　its　own　deliberation。
　They　have　been　trained　not　to　charge　willy…nilly　at　approaching　vehicles　and　even　to　bide　their　time　with　intruders　who　are　on　foot；　the　better　to　lure　them　into　a　zone　from　which　escape　is　impossible。　These　guards　know　that　stealth　is　as　important　as　savage　fury；　that　the　most　successful　assaults　are　preceded　by　calculated　stillnesses　to　lull　the　quarry　into　a　false　confidence。
　Finally　the　first　black　head　appears；　bullet　sleek　but　for　its　pricked　ears；　low　to　the　ground　at　the　rear　corner　of　the　house。　The　dog　hesitates　to　reveal　more　of　himself；　surveying　the　scene　to　make　sure　that　he　understands　what　is　happening。　〃Good　fella；〃　Vess　whispers。
　At　the　nearest　er　of　the　barn；　between　the　cedar　siding　and　the　trunk　of　a　winter…bare　maple；　another　dog　appears。　It　is　little　more　than　a　shadow　of　a　shadow　in　the　rain。
　Vess　wouldn't　have　noticed　these　sentries　if　he　hadn't　known　to　look　for　them。　Their　self…control　is　remarkable；　a　testament　to　his　abilities　as　a　trainer。
　Two　more　dogs　lurk　somewhere；　perhaps　behind　the　motor　home　or　belly　crawling　through　shrubbery　where　he　can't　see　them。　They　are　all　Dobermans；　five　and　six　years　old；　in　their　prime。
　Vess　has　not　cropped　their　ears　or　bobbed　their　tails；　as　is　usually　done　with　Dobermans；　for　he　has　an　affinity　for　nature's　predators。　He　is　able　to　perceive　the　world　to　a　degree　as　he　believes　that　animals　perceive　it…the　elemental　nature　of　their　view；　their　needs；　the　importance　of　raw　sensation。　They　have　a　kinship。
　The　dog　by　the　corner　of　the　house　slinks　into　the　open；　and　the　dog　at　the　barn　emerges　from　beneath　the　black…limbed　maple。　A　third　Doberman　rises　from　behind　the　massive　and　half…petrified　stump　of　a　long…vanquished　cedar　in　the　side　yard；　around　which　has　grown　a　tangled　mass　of　holly。
　The　motor　home　is　familiar　to　them。　Their　vision；　while　not　their　strongest　suit；　is　probably　sufficient　to　allow　them　to　recognize　him　through　the　windshield。　With　a　sense　of　smell　twenty　thousand　times　more　acute　than　that　of　the　average　human　being；　they　no　doubt　detect　his　scent　even　through　the　rain　and　even　though　he　is　inside　the　motor　home。　Yet　they　don't　wag　their　tails　or　in　any　way　exhibit　pleasure；　because　they　are　still　on　duty。
　The　fourth　dog　remains　hidden；　but　these　three　drift　warily　toward　him　through　the　rain　and　the　mist。　Their　heads　are　lifted；　pointy　cars　flicked　up　and　forward。
　In　their　disciplined　silence　and　indifference　to　the　storm；　they　remind　him　of　the　herd　of　elk　in　the　redwood　grove　the　previous　night；　eerily　intent。　The　big　difference；　of　course；　is　that　these　creatures；　if　confronted　by　anyone　other　than　their　beloved　master；　would　not　respond　with　the　timidity　of　elk　but　would　tear　the　throat　out　of　that　luckless　person。
　Although　she　would　not　have　believed　it　possible；　Chyna　had　been　lulled　into　sleep　by　the　hum　of　the　tires　and　the　motion　of　the　motor　home。　Her　dreams　were　of　strange　houses　in　which　the　geometry　of　the　rooms　was　ever　changing　and　bizarre；　something　eager　and　hungry　lived　within　the　walls；　and　at　night　it　spoke　to　her　through　vent　grilles　and　electrical　outlets；　whispering　its　needs。
　The　brakes　woke　her。　Immediately　she　realized　that　the　motor　home　had　e　to　a　full　halt　once　before　and　then　had　started　up　again；　only　moments　ago；　she　had　dozed　through　that　first　stop；　disturbed　in　her　sleep　but　not　fully　awakened。　Now；　although　they　were　on　the　move　again　and　the　killer　was　obviously　still　behind　the　steering　wheel；　Chyna　grabbed　the　revolver　from　the　floor　beside　her；　scrambled　to　her　feet；　and　stood　with　her　back　to　the　wall；　tense　and　alert。
　From　the　tilt　of　the　floor　and　the　laboring　sound　of　the　engine；　she　knew　that　they　were　climbing　a　hill。　Then　they　reached　the　top　and　headed　downward。　Soon　they　stopped　again；　and　at　last　the　engine　cut　out。
　The　rain　was　the　only　sound。　She　waited　for　footsteps。　Although　she　knew　that　she　was　awake；　she　seemed　to　be　in　a　dream；　rigid　in　darkness；　with　the　susurrant　rain　like　whispering　in　the　walls。
　Mr。　Vess　takes　the　time　to　put　on　his　raincoat　and　to　slip　his　Heckler　&　Koch　P7　into　one　pocket。　He　removes　the　Mossberg　shotgun　from　the　cabinet　in　the　kitchenette；　in　case　the　woman　searches　the　place　after　he　leaves。　He　switches　off　the　lights。
　When　he　descends　from　the　motor　home；　heedless　of　the　cold　rain；　the　three　big　dogs　e　to　him；　and　then　the　fourth　from　behind　the　vehicle。　All　are　quivering　with　excitement　at　his　return　but　still　holding　themselves　in　check；　not　wanting　to　be　thought　derelict　in　their　duty。
　Just　before　departing　on　this　expedition；　Mr。　Vess　had　placed　the　Dobermans　on　attack　status　by　speaking　the　name　Nietzsche。　They　will　remain　primed　to　kill　anyone　who　walks　onto　the　property　until　he　speaks　the　name　Seuss；　whereupon　they　will　be　as　affable　as　any　other　group　of　sociable　mutts…except；　of　course；　if　anyone　unwisely　threatens　their　master。
　After　propping　his　shotgun　against　the　side　of　the　motor　home；　he　holds　his　hands　out　to　the　dogs。　They　eagerly　crowd　around　to　sniff　his　fingers。　Sniffing；　panting；　licking；　licking；　yes；　yes；　they　have　missed　him　so　very　much。
　He　squats　on　his　haunches；　ing　down　to　their　level；　and　now　their　delight　is　uncontainable。　Their　ears　twitch；　and　shivers　of　pure　pleasure　pass　visibly　along　their　lean　flanks；　and　they　whine　softly　with　sheer　happiness；　jealously　pressing　all　at　once　at　him；　to　be　touched；　patted；　scratched。
　They　live　in　an　enormous　kennel　against　the　back　of　the　barn；　which　they　can　enter　and　leave　at　will。　It　is　electrically　heated　during　cold　weather　to　ensure　their　fort　and　their　continued　good　health。
　〃How　you　doing；　Liederkranz？　Tilsiter；　boy；　you　look　like　one　mean　sonofabitch。　Hey；　Limburger；　are　you　a　good　boy；　are　you　my　good　boy？〃
　Each；　at　the　mention　of　his　name；　is　filled　with　such　joy　that　he　would　roll　on　his　back　and　bare　his　belly　and　paw　the　air　and　grin　at　death…if　he　weren't　still　on　duty。　Part　of　the　fun　for　Vess　is　watching　the　struggle　between　training　and　nature　in　each　animal；　a　sweet　agony　that　makes　two　of　them　pee　in　nervous　frustration。
　Mr。　Vess　has　rigged　electrically　operated　dispensers　inside　the　kennel；　which　in　his　absence　automatically　pay　out　measured　portions　of　food　for　each　Doberman。　The　system　clock　has　a　backup　battery　to　continue　timing　meals　even　during　a　power　failure　of　short　duration。　In　the　event　of　a　long…term　loss　of　power；　the　dogs　can　always　resort　to　hunting　for　their　sustenance；　the　surrounding　meadows　are　full　of　field　mice　and　rabbits　and　squirrels；　and　the　Dobermans　are　fierce　predators。　Their　munal　water　trough　is　fed　by　a　drip　line；　but　if　it　should　ever　cease　to　function；　they　can　find　their　way　to　a　nearby　spring　that　runs　through　the　property。
　Most　of　Mr。　Vess's　expeditions　are　three…day　weekends；　rarely　as　long　as　five　days；　and　the　dogs　have　a　ten…day　food　supply　without　counting　rabbits；　mice；　and　squirrels。　They　constitute　an　efficient　and　reliable　security　system：　never　a　short　in　any　circuit；　never　a　failed　motion　detector；　never　a　corroded　magnetic　contact…and　never　a　false　alarm。
　Oh；　and　how　these　dogs　love　him；　how　unreservedly　and　loyally；　as　no　memory　chips　and　wires　and　cameras　and　infrared　heat　sensors　ever　could。　They　smell　the　bloodstains　on　his　jeans　and　denim　jacket；　and　they　push　their　sleek　heads　under　his　open　raincoat；　ears　laid　back；　sniffing　eagerly　now；　detecting　not　merely　the　blood　but　the　lingering　stench　of　terror　that　his　victims　exuded　when　in　his　hands；　their　pain；　their　helplessness；　the　sex　that　he　had　with　the　one　named　Laura。　This　m6lange　of　pungent　odors　not　only　excites　the　dogs　but　increases　their　respect　for　Vess。　They　have　been　taught　to　kill　not　merely　in　self…　defense；　not　just　for　food；　with　a　degree　of　iron　self…control；　they　have　been　taught　to　01　for　the　sheer　savage　pleasure　of　it；　to　please　their　master。　They　are　acutely　aware　that　their　master　can　match　their　savagery。　And　unlike　them；　he　has　never　needed　to　be　taught。　Their　high　regard　for　Edgler　Vess　soars　higher；　and　they　mewl　softly　and　quiver　and　roll　their　soulful　eyes　at　him　in　worshipful　awe。
　Mr。　Vess　gets　to　his　feet。　He　picks　up　the　shotgun　and　slams　the　door　of　the　motor　home。
　The　dogs　spring　to　his　side；　jostling　one　anot