cb.imajica2-第46节

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ser　than　by　others　who'd　laid　down　their　homeless　heads　without　his　permission。
　〃Isn't　that　right？〃　he　said　again。　〃Irish？　Tell　him！　Isn't　that　right？〃
　The　man　he'd　addressed　muttered　something　incoherent。　The　woman　beside　him；　with　a　bead　of　hair　bleached　to　near　extinction　but　black　at　the　roots；　came　within　striking　distance　of　Tolland…something　only　a　very　few　dared　to　do。
　〃That's　right；　Tolly；〃　she　said。　〃That's　right。〃　She　looked　at　the　victim　without　pity。　〃D'you　think　he's　a　Jew…boy？　He's　got　a　Jew…boy's　nose。〃
　Tolland　took　down　a　throatful　of　wine。　〃Are　you　a　fuckin'　yid？〃　he　said。
　Someone　in　the　crowd　said　they　should　strip　him　and　see。　The　woman；　who　went　by　a　number　of　names　but　whom　Tolland　called　Carol　when　he　fucked　her；　made　to　do　just　that；　but　he　aimed　a　blow　at　her　and　she　retreated。
　〃You　get　your　fuckin'　hands　off　him；〃　Tolland　said。　〃He'll　tell　us；　won't　you；　matey？　You'll　tell　us。　Are　you　a　fuckin'　yid　or　not？〃
　He　took　hold　of　the　man　by　the　lapel　of　his　jacket。
　〃I'm　waitin'；〃　he　said。
　The　victim　dug　for　a　word；　and　found：　〃。。。　Gentle　。。。〃
　〃Gentile？〃　Tolland　said。　〃Yeah？　You　a　Gentile？　Well；　I　don't　give　a　fuck　what　you　are！　I　don't　want　you　here。〃
　The　other　nodded　and　tried　to　detach　Tolland's　fingers；　but　his　captor　hadn't　finished。　He　slammed　the　man　against　the　wall；　so　hard　the　breath　went　out　of　him。
　〃Irish？　Take　the　fuckin'　bottle。〃
　The　Irishman　claimed　the　bottle　from　Tolland's　hands　and　stepped　back　to　let　him　do　his　worst。
　〃Don't　kill　him；〃　the　woman　said；
　〃What　the　fuck　do　you　care？〃　Tolland　spat　and　delivered　two；　three；　four　punches　to　the　Gentile's　solar　plexus；　followed　by　a　knee　jab　to　his　groin。　Pinned　against　the　wall　by　his　neck；　the　man　could　do　little　to　defend　himself；　but　even　that　little　he　failed　to　do；　accepting　the　punishment　even　though　tears　of　pain　ran　from　his　eyes。　He　stared　through　them　with　a　look　of　bewilderment　on　his　face；　small　exclamations　of　pain　ing　with　every　blow。
　〃He's　a　head　case；　Tolly；〃　the　Irishman　said。　〃Look　at　him！　He's　a　friggin'　head　case。〃
　Tolland　didn't　glance　the　Irishman's　way；　or　slow　his　beating；　but　delivered　a　new　fusillade　of　punches。　The　Gentile's　body　now　hung　limply　from　the　pinion　of　his　hand；　the　face　above　it　blanker　by　the　blow。
　〃You　hear　me；　Tolly？〃　the　Irishman　said。　〃He's　a　nutter。　He's　not　feeling　it。〃
　〃You　keep　the　fuck　out　of　this。〃
　〃Why　don't　you　leave　him　alone？〃
　〃He's　on　my　fuckin'　patch；〃　Tolland　said。
　He　dragged　the　Gentile　away　from　the　wall　and　swung　him　around。　The　small　crowd　backed　off　to　give　their　leader　room　to　play。　With　Irish　silenced；　there　were　no　objections　raised　from　any　quarter。　Tolland　was　left　to　beat　the　Gentile　to　the　ground。　Then　he　followed　through　with　a　barrage　of　kicks。　His　victim　put　his　hands　around　his　head　and　curled　up　to　protect　himself　as　best　he　could；　whimpering。　But　Tolland　wasn't　about　to　let　the　man's　face　go　unbroken。　He　reached　down　and　dragged　the　hands　away；　raising　his　boot　to　bring　it　down。　Before　he　could　do　so；　however；　Tolland's　bottle　hit　the　floor；　spattering　wine　as　it　smashed。　He　turned　on　Irish。
　〃What　the　fuck　d'you　that　for？〃
　〃You　shouldn't　beat　up　head　cases；〃　the　man　replied；　by　his　tone　already　regretting　the　breakage。
　〃You　goin'　to　stop　me？〃
　〃All　I'm　sayin'…〃
　〃Are　you　goin'　to　try　and　fuckin'　stop　me？〃
　〃He's　not　right　in　the　head；　Tolly。〃
　〃So　I'll　kick　some　sense　into　him；〃　Tolland　replied。
　He　dropped　his　victim's　arms；　turning　all　his　crazed　attention　on　the　dissenter。
　〃Or　do　you　want　to　do　it？〃　he　said。
　Irish　shook　his　head。
　〃Go　on；〃　said　Tolland。　〃You　do　it　for　me。〃　He　stepped　over　the　Gentile　in　the　Irishman's　direction。　〃Go　on。。。〃　he　said　again。　〃Go　on。。。。〃
　Irish　began　to　retreat；　Tolland　bearing　down　on　him。　The　Gentile　had　meanwhile　turned　himself　over　and　was　starting　to　crawl　away；　blood　running　from　his　nose　and　from　the　wounds　reopened　on　his　brow。　Nobody　moved　to　help　him。　When　ToUand　was　roused；　as　now；　his　fury　knew　no　bounds。　Anyone　who　stepped　in　his　way…whether　man；　woman；　or　child…was　forfeit。　He　broke　bones　and　heads　without　a　second　thought；　had　ground　a　broken　bottle　into　a　man's　eye　once；　not　twenty　yards　from　this　spot；　for　the　crime　of　looking　at　him　too　long。　There　wasn't　a　cardboard　city　north　or　south　of　the　river　where　he　wasn't　known；　and　prayers　said　in　the　hope　that　he'd　not　e　visiting。
　Before　he　could　grab　hold　of　Irish　the　man　threw　up　his　hands　in　defeat。
　〃All　right；　Tolly；　all　right；〃　he　said。　〃It　was　my　mistake。　I　swear；　I'm　sorry。〃
　〃You　broke　my　fuckin　bottle。〃
　〃HI　fetch　you　another。　I　will。　I'll　do　it　now。〃
　Irish　had　known　Tolland　longer　than　anyone　else　in　this　circle　and　was　familiar　with　the　rules　of　placation：　copious　apology；　witnessed　by　as　many　of　Tolland's　tribe　as　possible。　It　wasn't　foolproof；　but　today　it　worked。
　〃Will　I　be　fetchin'　you　a　bottle　now？〃　Irish　said。
　〃Get　me　two；　you　fuckin'　scab。〃
　〃That's　what　I　am；　Tolly。　I'm　a　scab。〃
　〃And　one　for　Carol；〃　Tolland　said。
　〃I'll　do　that〃
　Tolland　leveled　a　grimy　finger　at　Irish。　〃And　don't　you　ever　try　crossin'　me　again；　or　I'll　have　your　fuckin'　balls。〃
　With　this　promise　made；　ToUand　turned　back　to　his　victim。　Seeing　that　the　Gentile　had　already　crawled　some　distance　from　him；　he　let　out　an　incoherent　roar　of　fury；　and　those　of　the　crowd　who　were　standing　within　a　yard　or　two　of　the　path　between　him　and　his　target　retreated。　Tolland　didn't　hurry；　but　watched　as　the　wounded　Gentile　laboriously　got　to　his　feet　and　began　to　make　a　staggering　escape　through　the　chaos　of　boxes　and　strewn　bedding。
　Up　ahead；　a　youth　of　sixteen　or　so　was　kneeling　on　the　ground；　covering　the　concrete　slabs　underfoot　with　designs　in　colored　chalk；　blowing　the　pastel　dust　off　his　handiwork　as　he　went。　Engrossed　in　his　art　he'd　ignored　the　beating　that　had　claimed　the　attention　of　the　others；　but　now　he　heard　Tolland's　voice　echoing　through　the　underpass；　calling　his　name。
　〃Monday；　you　fuckhead！　Get　hold　of　him！〃
　The　youth　looked　up。　His　hair　was　cropped　to　a　dark　fuzz；　his　skin　pockmarked；　his　ears　sticking　out　like　handles。　His　gaze　was　clear；　however；　despite　the　track　marks　that　disfigured　his　arms；　and　it　took　him　only　a　second　to　realize　his　dilemma。　If　he　brought　down　the　bleeding　man；　he'd　condemn　him。　If　he　didn't；　he'd　condemn　himself。　To　gain　a　little　time　he　feigned　bafflement；　cupping　his　hand　behind　his　ear　as　if　he'd　missed　Tolland's　instruction。
　〃Stop　him！〃　came　the　brute's　mand。
　Monday　started　to　get　to　his　feet；　murmuring；　〃Get　the　fuck　out　of　here；〃　to　the　escapee　as　he　did　so。
　But　the　idiot　had　stumbled　to　a　halt；　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　picture　Monday　had　been　making。　It　was　filched　from　a　newspaper　photo　of　a　starlet；　wide…eyed；　posing　with　a　koala　in　her　arms。　Monday　had　rendered　the　woman　with　loving　accuracy；　but　the　koala　had　bee　a　patchwork　beast；　with　a　single　burning　eye　in　its　brooding　head。
　〃Didn't　you　hear　me？〃　Monday　said。
　The　man　ignored　him。
　〃It's　your　funeral；〃　he　said；　rising　now　as　Tolland　approached；　pushing　the　man　from　the　edge　of　his　picture。　〃Go　on；〃　he　said；　〃or　he'll　bust　it　iip！　Get　away！〃　He　pushed　hard；　but　the　man　remained　fixated。　〃You're　gettin'　blood　on　it；　dickhead！〃
　Tolland　yelled　for　Irish；　and　the　man　hurried　to　his　side；　eager　to　make　good。
　〃What；　Tolly？〃
　〃Collar　that　fuckin'　kid。〃
　Irish　was　obedient　and　headed　straight　for　Monday；　taking　hold　of　the　boy。　Tolland；　meanwhile；　had　caught　up　with　the　Gentile；　who　hadn't　moved　from　his　place　on　the　edge　of　the　colored　paving。
　〃Don't　let　him　bleed　on　it！〃　Monday　begged。
　Tolland　threw　the　youth　a　glance；　then　stepped　onto　the　picture；　scraping　his　boots　over　the　carefully　worked　face。　Monday　raised　a　moan　of　protest　as　he　watched　the　bright　chalk　colons　reduced　to　a　gray…brown　dust。
　〃Don't；　man；　don't；〃　he　pleaded。
　But　his　plaints　only　riled　the　vandal　further。　Seeing　Monday's　tobacco　tin　of　chalks　within　reach　of　his　boot；　Tolland　went　to　scatter　them；　but　Monday；　dragging　himself　out　of　Irish's　grip；　flung　himself　down　to　preserve　them。　Tolland's　kick　landed　in　the　boy's　flank；　and　he　was　sent　sprawling；　rolled　in　chalk　dust。　Tolland's　heel　booted　the　tin　and　its　contents；　then　he　came　after　its　protector　a　second　time。　Monday　curled　up；　anticipating　the　blow。　But　it　never　landed。　The　Gentile's　voice　came　between　Tolland　and　his　intention。
　〃Don't　do　that；〃　he　said。
　Nobody　had　custody　of　him；　and　he　could　have　made　another　attempt　to　escape　while　Tolland　went　after　Monday；　but　he　was　still　at　the　edge　of　the　picture；　his　gaze　no　longer　on　it　but　on　its　spoiler。
　〃What　the　fuck　did　you　say？〃　Tolland's　mouth　opened　like　a　toothed　wound　in　his　matted　beard。
　〃I　said：　Don't　。。。do。。。　that；〃
　Whatever　pleasure　Tolland　had　derived　from　this　hunt　was　over　now；　and　there　wasn't　one　among　the　spectators　who　didn't　know　it。　The　sport　that　would　have　ended　with　an　ear　bitten　off　or　a　few　broken　ribs　had　bee　something　else　entirely；　and　several　of　the　crowd；　having　no　stomach　for　what　they　knew　was　ing；　retired　from　their　places　at　the　ringside。　Even　the　hardiest　of　them　backed　away　a　few　paces；　their　drugged；　drunken；　or　simply　addled