jg.thefirm-第45节

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　　〃Take　a　look　at　these；〃　he　said　with　a　sneer；　and　walked　away。
　　Mitch　leaned　on　the　limo　and　nervously　opened　the　envelope。　There　were　four　photographs；　black　and　white；　eight　by　ten；　very　clear。　On　the　beach。　The　girl。
　　〃Oh　my　god！　Who　took　these？〃　Mitch　yelled　at　him。
　　〃What　difference　does　it　make？　It's　you；　ain't　it？〃
　　There　was　no　doubt　about　who　it　was。　He　ripped　the　photographs　into　small　pieces　and　threw　them　in　DeVasher's　direction。
　　〃We　got　plenty　at　the　office；〃　DeVasher　said　calmly。　〃Bunch　of　them。　We　don't　want　to　use　them；　but　one　more　little　conversation　with　Mr。　Tarrance　or　any　other　Fibbie　and　we'll　mail　them　to　your　wife。　How　would　you　like　that；　Mitch？　Imagine　your　pretty　little　wife　going　to　the　mailbox　to　get　her　Redbook　and　catalogues　and　she　sees　this　sftrange　envelope　addressed　to　her。　Try　to　think　of　that；　Mitch。　The　next　time　you　and　Tarrance　decide　to　shop　for　plastic　shoes；　think　about　us；　Mitch。　Because　we'll　be　watching。〃
　　〃Who　knows　about　these？〃　Mitch　asked。
　　〃Me　and　the　photographer；　and　now　you。　Nobody　in　the　firm　knows；　and　I　don't　plan　to　tell　them。　But　if　you　screw　up　again；　I　suspect　they'll　be　passing　them　around　at　lunch。　I　play　hardball；　Mitch。〃
　　He　sat　on　the　trunk　and　rubbed　his　temples。　DeVasher　walked　up　next　to　him。　〃Listen；　son。　You're　a　very　bright　young　man；　and　you're　on　your　way　to　big　bucks。　Don't　screw　it　up。　Just　work　hard；　play　the　game；　buy　new　cars；　build　bigger　homes；　the　works。　Just　like　all　the　other　guys。　Don't　try　to　be　no　hero。　I　don't　want　to　use　the　pictures。〃
　　〃Okay；　okay。〃
　　　
　　　21
　　FOR　seventeen　days　and　seventeen　nights；　the　troubled　lives　of　Mitch　and　Abby　McDeere　proceeded　quietly　without　interference　from　Wayne　Tarrance　or　any　of　his　confederates。　The　routines　returned。　Mitch　worked　eighteen　hours　a　day；　every　day　of　the　week；　and　never　left　the　office　for　any　reason　except　to　drive　home。　Lunch　was　at　the　desk。　Avery　sent　other　associates　to　run　errands　or　file　motions　or　appear　in　court。　Mitch　seldom　left　his　office；　the　fifteen…by…fifteen　sanctuary　where　he　was　certain　Tarrance　could　not　get　him。　If　possible；　he　stayed　out　of　the　halls　and　men's　rooms　and　coffee　room。　They　were　watching；　he　was　sure。　He　was　not　sure　who　they　were；　but　there　was　no　doubt　that　a　bunch　of　folks　were　vitally　interested　in　his　movements。　So　he　stayed　at　his　desk；　with　the　door　shut　most　of　the　time；　working　diligently；　billing　like　crazy　and　trying　to　forget　that　the　building　had　a　fifth　floor　and　on　the　fifth　floor　was　a　nasty　little　bastard　named　DeVasher　who　had　a　collection　of　photographs　that　could　ruin　him。
　　With　each　uneventful　day；　Mitch　withdrew　even　more　into　his　asylum　and　became　even　more　hopeful　that　perhaps　the　last　episode　in　the　Korean　shoe　store　had　scared　Tarrance　or　maybe　gotten　him　fired。　Maybe　Voyles　would　just　simply　forget　the　entire　operation；　and　Mitch　could　continue　along　his　happy　way　of　getting　rich　and　making　partner　and　buying　everything　in　sight。　But　he　knew　better。
　　To　Abby；　the　house　was　a　prison；　though　she　could　e　and　go　at　will。　She　worked　longer　hours　at　school；　spent　more　time　walking　the　malls　and　made　at　least　one　trip　each　day　to　the　grocery　store。　She　watched　everyone；　especially　men　in　dark　suits　who　looked　at　her。　She　wore　black　sunglasses　so　they　could　not　see　her　eyes。　She　wore　them　when　it　was　raining。　Late　at　night；　after　supper　alone　while　she　waited　for　him；　she　stared　at　the　walls　and　resisted　the　temptation　to　investigate。　The　phones　could　be　examined　with　a　magnifying　glass。　The　wires　and　mikes　could　not　be　invisible；　she　told　herself。　More　than　once　she　thought　of　finding　a　book　on　such　devices　so　she　could　identify　them。　But　Mitch　said　no。　They　were　in　the　house；　he　assured　her；　and　any　attempt　to　find　them　could　be　disastrous。
　　So　she　moved　silently　around　her　own　house；　feeling　violated　and　knowing　it　could　not　last　much　longer。　They　both　knew　the　importance　of　appearing　normal；　of　sounding　normal。　They　tried　to　engage　in　normal　talk　about　how　the　day　went；　about　the　office　and　her　students；　about　the　weather；　about　this　and　that。　But　the　conversations　were　flat；　often　forced　and　strained。　When　Mitch　was　in　law　school　the　lovemaking　had　been　frequent　and　rowdy；　now　it　was　practically　nonexistent。　Someone　was　listening。
　　Midnight　walks　around　the　block　became　a　habit。　After　a　quick　sandwich　each　night；　they　would　deliver　the　rehearsed　lines　about　needing　exercise　and　head　for　the　street。　They　held　hands　and　walked　in　the　cold；　talking　about　　and　the　FBI；　and　which　way　to　turn；　always　the　same　conclusion：　there　was　no　way　out。　None。　Seventeen　days　and　seventeen　nights。
　　The　eighteenth　day　brought　a　new　twist。　Mitch　was　exhausted　by　9　P。M。　and　decided　to　go　home。　He　had　worked　nonstop　for　fifteen　and　a　half　hours。　At　two　hundred　per。　As　usual；　he　walked　the　halls　of　the　second　floor；　then　took　the　stairs　to　the　third　floor。　He　casually　checked　each　office　to　see　who　was　still　working。　No　one　on　the　third　floor。　He　followed　the　stairs　to　the　fourth　floor　and　walked　the　wide　rectangular　hallway　as　if　in　search　of　something。　All　lights　except　one　were　off。　Royce　McKnight　was　working　late。　Mitch　eased　by　his　office　without　being　seen。　Avery's　door　was　closed；　and　Mitch　grabbed　the　doorknob。　It　was　locked。　He　walked　to　the　library　down　the　hall；　looking　for　a　book　he　did　not　need。　After　two　weeks　of　the　casual　late…night　inspections；　he　had　found　no　closed…circuit　cameras　above　the　halls　or　offices。　They　just　listen；　he　decided。　They　do　not　see。
　　He　said　goodbye　to　Dutch　Hendrix　at　the　front　gate　and　drove　home。　Abby　was　not　expecting　him　at　such　an　early　hour。　He　quietly　unlocked　the　door　from　the　carport　and　eased　into　the　kitchen。　He　flipped　on　a　light　switch。　She　was　in　the　bedroom。　Between　the　kitchen　and　the　den　was　a　small　foyer　with　a　rolltop　desk　where　Abby　left　each　day's　mail。　He　laid　his　briefcase　softly　on　the　desk；　then　saw　it。　A　large　brown　envelope　addressed　with　a　black　felt　marker　to　Abby　McDeere。　No　return　address。　Scrawled　in　heavy　black　letters　were　the　words　PHOTOGRAPHS…DO　NOT　BEND。　His　heart　stopped　first；　then　his　breathing。　He　grabbed　the　envelope。　It　had　been　opened。
　　A　heavy　layer　of　sweat　broke　across　his　forehead。　His　mouth　was　dry　and　he　could　not　swallow。　His　heart　returned　with　the　fury　of　a　jackhammer。　The　breathing　was　heavy　and　painful。　He　was　nauseous。　Slowly；　he　backed　away　from　the　desk；　holding　the　envelope。　She's　in　the　bed；　he　thought。　Hurt；　sick；　devastated　and　mad　as　hell。　He　wiped　his　forehead　and　tried　to　collect　himself。　Face　it　like　a　man；　he　said。
　　She　was　in　the　bed；　reading　a　book　with　the　television　on。　The　dog　was　in　the　backyard。　Mitch　opened　the　bedroom　door；　and　Abby　bolted　upright　in　horror。　She　almost　screamed　at　the　intruder；　until　she　recognized　him。
　　〃You　scared　me；　Mitch！〃
　　Her　eyes　glowed　with　fear；　then　fun。　They　had　not　been　crying。　They　looked　fine；　normal。　No　pain。　No　anger。　He　could　not　speak。
　　〃Why　are　you　home？〃　she　demanded；　sitting　up　in　bed；　smiling　now。
　　Smiling？　〃I　live　here；〃　he　said　weakly。
　　〃Why　didn't　you　call？〃
　　〃Do　I　have　to　call　before　I　can　e　home？〃　His　breathing　was　now　almost　normal。　She　was　fine！
　　〃It　would　be　nice。　e　here　and　kiss　me。〃
　　He　leaned　across　the　bed　and　kissed　her。　He　handed　her　the　envelope。　〃What's　this？〃　he　asked　nonchalantly。
　　〃You　tell　me。　It's　addressed　to　me；　but　there　was　nothing　inside。　Not　a　thing。〃　She　closed　her　book　and　laid　it　on　the　night　table。
　　Not　a　thing！　He　smiled　at　her　and　kissed　her　again。　〃Are　you　expecting　photographs　from　anyone？〃　he　asked　in　plete　ignorance。
　　〃Not　that　I　know　of。　Must　be　a　mistake。〃
　　He　could　almost　hear　DeVasher　laughing　at　this　very　moment　on　the　fifth　floor。　The　fat　bastard　was　standing　up　there　somewhere　in　some　dark　room　full　of　wires　and　machines　with　a　headset　stretched　around　his　massive　bowling　ball　of　a　head；　laughing　uncontrollably。
　　〃That's　strange；〃　Mitch　said。　Abby　pulled　on　a　pair　of　jeans　and　pointed　to　the　backyard。　Mitch　nodded。　The　signal　was　simple；　just　a　quick　point　or　a　nod　of　the　head　in　the　direction　of　the　patio。
　　Mitch　laid　the　envelope　on　the　rolltop　desk　and　for　a　second　touched　the　scrawled　markings　on　it。　Probably　DeVasher's　handwriting。　He　could　almost　hear　him　laughing。　He　could　see　his　fat　face　and　nasty　smile。　The　photographs　had　probably　been　passed　around　during　lunch　in　the　partners'　dining　room。　He　could　see　Lambert　and　Mc…Knight　and　even　Avery　gawking　admiringly　over　coffee　and　dessert。
　　They'd　better　enjoy　the　pictures；　dammit。　They'd　better　enjoy　the　remaining　few　months　of　their　bright　and　rich　and　happy　legal　careers。
　　Abby　walked　by　and　he　grabbed　her　hand。　〃What's　for　dinner？〃　he　asked　for　the　benefit　of　those　listening。
　　〃Why　don't　we　go　out。　We　should　celebrate　since　you're　home　at　a　decent　hour。〃
　　They　walked　through　the　den。　〃Good　idea；〃　said　Mitch。　They　eased　through　the　rear　door；　across　the　patio　and　into　the　darkness。
　　〃What　is　it？〃　Mitch　asked。
　　〃You　got　a　letter　today　from　Doris。　She　said　she's　in　Nashville；　but　will　return　to　Memphis　on　the　twenty…seventh　of　February。　She　says　she　needs　t