dk.solesurvivor-第46节

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　　Farther　up　the　aisle；　the　storyteller　reached　the　exit　door　and　disappeared　into　the　debarkation　umbilical。
　　Joe　was　afraid　of　losing　his　stalker；　but　it　was　imperative　that　they　continue　to　believe　that　he　was　unaware　of　them。
　　Barbara　Christman　was　in　terrible　danger。　First　thing；　he　had　to　find　a　phone　and　warn　her。
　　Faking　patience　and　boredom；　he　shuffled　forward　with　the　other　passengers。　In　the　umbilical；　which　was　much　wider　than　the　aisle　in　the　airplane；　he　finally　slipped　past　them　without　appearing　to　be　alarmed　or　in　a　hurry。　He　didn't　realize　that　he　was　holding　his　breath　until　he　exhaled　hard　with　relief　when　he　spotted　his　quarry　ahead　of　him。
　　The　huge　terminal　was　busy。　At　the　gates；　the　ranks　of　chairs　were　filled　with　passengers　wailing　to　catch　a　late…afternoon　flight　in　the　fast…fading　hours　of　the　weekend。　Chattering；　laughing；　arguing；　brooding　in　silence；　shuffling…striding…strolling…limping…ambling；　arriving　passengers　poured　out　of　other　gates　and　along　the　concourse。　There　were　singles；　couples；　entire　families；　blacks　and　whites　and　Asians　and　Latinos　and　four　towering　Samoan　men　all　with　black　porkpie　hats；　beautiful　sloe…eyed　women　willow　graceful　in　their　turquoise　or　ruby　or　sapphire　saris；　others　in　chadors　and　others　in　jeans；　men　in　business　suits；　men　in　shorts　and　bright　Polo　shirts；　four　young　Hasidic　Jews　arguing　（but　joyfully）　over　the　most　mystical　of　all　documents　（a　Los　Angeles　freeway　map）；　uniformed　soldiers；　giggling　children　and　shrieking　children　and　two　placid　octogenarians　in　wheelchairs；　a　pair　of　tall　Arab　princes　in　akals　and　keffiyehs　and　flowing　jellabas；　preceded　by　fierce　bodyguards　and　trailed　by　retinues；　beacon…red　tourists　drifting　homeward　on　the　astringent　fumes　of　medicated　sunburn　lotion；　pale　tourists　arriving　with　the　dampish　smell　of　cloudy　country　clinging　to　them　…and；　like　a　white　boat　strangely　serene　in　a　typhoon；　the　man　in　the　Panama　hat　sailing　imperiously　through　the　polygenic　sea。
　　As　far　as　Joe　was　concerned；　they　might　all　be　stage　dressing；　every　one　of　them　an　agent　of　Teknologik　or　of　institutions　unknown；　all　watching　him　surreptitiously；　snapping　photographs　of　him　with　trick　cameras　concealed　in　their　purses　and　attaché　cases　and　tote　bags；　all　conferring　by　hidden　microphones　as　to　whether　he　should　be　permitted　to　proceed　or　gunned　down　on　the　spot。
　　He　had　never　before　felt　so　alone　in　a　crowd。　Dreading　what　might　happen…might　even　now　be　happening…to　Barbara；　he　tried　to　keep　the　storyteller　in　sight　while　also　searching　for　a　telephone。
　　
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　　The　public　telephone；　one　in　a　cluster　of　four；　was　not　in　a　booth；　but　the　wings　of　a　sound　shield　provided　a　small　measure　of　privacy。
　　As　he　entered　Barbara's　Colorado　Springs　number　on　the　keypad；　Joe　ground　his　teeth　together　as　though　he　could　bite　off　the　noise　of　the　crowded　terminal　and　chew　it　into　a　silence　that　would　allow　him　to　concentrate。　He　needed　to　think　through　what　he　would　say　to　her；　but　he　had　neither　the　time　nor　the　solitude　to　craft　the　ideal　speech；　and　he　was　afraid　of　mitting　a　blunder　that　would　pitch　her　deeper　into　trouble。
　　Even　if　her　phone　had　not　been　tapped　the　previous　evening；　it　was　surely　being　monitored　now；　following　his　visit　to　her。　His　task　was　to　warn　her　of　the　danger　while　simultaneously　convincing　the　eavesdroppers　that　she　had　never　broken　the　pledge　of　silence　which　would　keep　her　and　Denny　safe。
　　As　the　telephone　began　to　ring　in　Colorado；　Joe　glanced　toward　the　storyteller；　who　had　taken　up　a　position　farther　along…and　on　the　opposite　side　of…the　concourse。　He　was　standing　outside　the　entrance　to　an　airport　newsstand　and　gift　shop；　nervously　adjusting　his　Panama　hat；　and　conversing　with　an　Hispanic　man　in　tan　chinos；　a　green　madras　shirt；　and　a　Dodgers　cap。
　　Through　the　screen　of　passing　travellers；　Joe　pretended　not　to　watch　the　two　men　while　they　pretended；　less　convincingly；　not　to　watch　him。　They　were　less　circumspect　than　they　should　have　been；　because　they　were　overconfident。　Although　they　might　give　him　credit　for　being　industrious　and　clever；　they　thought　that　he　was　basically　a　jerk　civilian　in　fast…running　water　way　over　his　head。
　　He　was　exactly　what　they　thought　him　to　be；　of　course；　but　he　hoped　he　was　also　more　than　they　believed。　A　man　driven　by　paternal　love…and　therefore　dangerous。　A　man　with　a　passion　for　justice　that　was　alien　to　their　world　of　situational　ethics；　in　which　the　only　morals　were　the　morals　of　convenience。
　　Barbara　answered　the　phone　on　the　fifth　ring；　just　as　Joe　was　beginning　to　despair。
　　'It's　me；　Joe　Carpenter；'　he　said。
　　'I　was　just…'
　　Before　Barbara　could　say　anything　that　might　reveal　the　extent　of　the　revelations　she'd　made　to　him；　Joe　said；　'Listen；　I　wanted　to　thank　you　again　for　taking　me　to　the　crash　site。　It　wasn't　easy；　but　it　was　something　I　had　to　do；　had　to　see；　if　I　was　ever　going　to　have　any　peace。　I'm　sorry　if　I　badgered　you　about　what　really　happened　to　that　airplane。　I　was　a　little　crazy；　I　guess。　A　couple　of　odd　things　have　happened　lately；　and　I　just　let　my　imagination　run　wild。　You　were　right　when　you　said　most　of　the　time　things　are　exactly　what　they　appear　to　be。　It's　just　hard　to　accept　that　you　can　lose　your　family　to　anything　as　stupid　as　an　accident；　mechanical　failure；　human　error；　whatever。　You　feel　like　it　just　has　to　be　a　lot　more　significant　than　an　accident　because　。　。　。　well；　because　they　were　so　significant　to　you。　You　know？　You　think　there　have　to　be　villains　somewhere；　that　it　can't　be　just　fate；　because　God　wouldn't　allow　this　to　happen。　But　you　started　me　thinking　when　you　said…the　only　place　there's　always　villains　is　in　the　movies。　If　I'm　going　to　get　over　this；　I'm　going　to　have　to　accept　that　these　things　just　happen；　that　no　one's　to　blame。　Life　is　risk；　right？　God　does　let　innocent　people　die；　lets　children　die。　It's　that　simple。'
　　Joe　was　tense；　waiting　to　hear　what　she　would　say；　whether　she　had　understood　the　urgent　message　that　he　was　striving　to　convey　so　indirectly。
　　After　a　brief　hesitation；　Barbara　said；　'I　hope　you　find　peace；　Joe；　I　really　do。　It　took　a　lot　of　guts　for　you　to　go　out　there；　right　to　the　impact　site。　And　it　takes　guts　to　face　the　fact　that　there's　no　one　to　blame　in　the　end。　As　long　as　you're　stuck　in　the　idea　that　there's　someone　who's　guilty　of　something；　someone　who's　got　to　he　brought　to　justice　。　。　。　well；　then　you're　full　of　vengeance；　and　you're　not　healing。'
　　She　understood。
　　Joe　closed　his　eyes　and　tried　to　gather　his　unravelled　nerves　into　a　tight　bundle　again。
　　He　said；　'It's　just　。　。　。　we　live　in　such　weird　times。　It's　easy　to　believe　in　vast　conspiracies。'
　　'Easier　than　facing　hard　truths。　Your　real　argument　isn't　with　the　pilots　or　the　maintenance　crew。　It　isn't　with　the　air…traffic　controllers　or　with　the　people　who　built　the　airplane。　Your　real　argument's　with　God。'
　　'Which　I　can't　win；'　he　said；　opening　his　eyes。
　　In　front　of　the　newsstand；　the　storyteller　and　the　Dodgers　fan　finished　their　conversation。　The　storyteller　departed。
　　'We're　not　supposed　to　understand　why；'　Barbara　said。　'We　just　have　to　have　faith　that　there's　a　reason。　If　you　can　learn　to　accept　that；　then　you　really　might　find　peace。　You're　a　very　nice　man；　Joe。　You　don't　deserve　to　be　in　such　torment。　I'll　be　praying　for　you。'
　　'Thanks；　Barbara。　Thanks　for　everything。'
　　'Good　luck；　Joe。'
　　He　almost　wished　her　good　luck　as　well；　but　those　two　words　might　be　a　tip…off　to　whoever　was　listening。
　　Instead；　he　said；　'Good…bye。'
　　Still　hummingbird　tense；　he　hung　up。
　　Simply　by　going　to　Colorado　and　knocking　on　Barbara's　door；　he　had　put　her；　her　son；　and　her　son's　entire　family　in　terrible　jeopardy…although　he'd　had　no　way　of　knowing　this　would　be　the　consequence　of　his　visit。　Anything　might　happen　to　her　now　…or　nothing…and　Joe　felt　a　chill　of　blame　coil　around　his　heart。　On　the　other　hand；　by　going　to　Colorado；　he　had　learned　that
　　Nina　was　miraculously　alive。　He　was　willing　to　take　the　moral　responsibility　for　a　hundred　deaths　in　return　for　the　mere　hope　of　seeing　her　again。
　　He　was　aware　of　how　monstrous　it　was　to　regard　the　life　of　his　daughter　as　more　precious　than　the　lives　of　any　hundred　strangers…two　hundred；　a　thousand。　He　didn't　care。　He　would　kill　to　save　her；　if　that　was　the　extreme　to　which　he　was　driven。　Kill　anyone　who　got　in　his　way。　Any　number。
　　Wasn't　it　the　human　dilemma　to　dream　of　being　part　of　the　larger　munity　but；　in　the　face　of　everlasting　death；　always　to　operate　on　personal　and　family　imperatives？　And　he　was；　after　all；　too　human。
　　Joe　left　the　public　telephones　and　followed　the　concourse　toward　the　exit。　As　he　reached　the　head　of　the　escalators；　he　contrived　to　glance　hack。
　　The　Dodgers　fan　followed　at　a　discreet　distance；　well　disguised　by　the　ordinariness　of　his　dress　and　demeanour。　He　wove　himself　into　the　crowd　so　skilfully　that　he　was　no　more　evident　than　any　single　thread　in　a　coat　of　many　colours。
　　Down　the　escalator　and　through　the　lower　floor　of　the　terminal；　Joe　did　not　look　back　again。　Either　the　Dodgers　fan　would　be　there　or　he　would　have　handed　Jo