ericlustbader.the ninja-第4部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

　'I　loathe　New　York　in　the　summer；'　she　told　him　the　next　afternoon　over　drinks。　'Do　you　know　that　I　once　spent　the　entire　summer　in　my　apartment　with　the　air　conditioning　on　full　and　never　once　moving　out　of　the　door？　I　was　deathly　afraid　I'd　get　overwhelmed　by　the　stench　of　dogshit。　I'd　call　D'Agostino　and　have　them　send　up　the　food　and；　once　or　twice　a　week；　the　office　would　send　up　this　big　brawny　fag　…　who　was　doing　the　director　under　the　desk　during　coffee　breaks　…　to　take　my　designs　and　bring　me　my　cheques。　But　even　with　that；　it　wasn't　enough　and　I　was　forced　out。　I　threw　some　stuff　in　a　bag　and　took　the　first　flight　out　to　Paris。　I　stayed　two　weeks　while　the　office　went　batshit　looking　for　me。'　She　turned　her　head　half　away　from　him；　sipping　at　her　Manhattan。　'However；　when　I　got　back；　the　only　thing　that　had　really　changed　was　mat　the　fag　was　gone。'
　The　sun　was　ing　down；　the　sea　devouring　its　crimson　bulk；　colour　lay　shimmering　on　the　water。　Then；　quite　abruptly；　it　was　dark：　not　even　the　little　lights　bobbing　far　out　to　sea。
　It　was　like　that　with　her；　he　reflected。　Brilliant　colour；　stories　on　the　surface；　but　what　lay　beneath；　in　the　night？
　'You're　not　going　back　to　Columbia；'　she　said；　'in　the　fall。'
　'No；　I'm　not。'
　She　said　nothing；　sat　back　on　the　Haitian　cotton　couch；　her　slender　arms　spread　wide　along　the　back；　they　went　out　of　the　pools　of　lamplight；　seemed　dark　wings；　hovering。　Then　she　cocked　her　head　to　one　side　and　it　seemed　to　him　as　if　the　icefloe　had　cracked；　ing　apart。
　'I　fell　in　love　with　the　campus；'　he　said；　deciding　to　answer　her　by　starting　at　the　beginning。　'Of　course；　it　was　the　be…ginning　of　February；　but　I　could　imagine　the　red　brick　walkways　lined　with　flowering　magnolia　and　dogwood；　quince　in　among　the　ancient　oaks。
　〃The　course　itself　…　Sources　of　Oriental　Thought　…　wasn't　really　too　bad　at　all。　The　students　at　least　were　inquisitive　and；　when　awake；　fairly　bright　…　some　of　them　startlingly　so。　They　seemed　surprised　that　I　was　interested　in　them。
　'I　was　curious　about　this；　at　first；　but　as　the　semester　wore　on；　I　came　to　understand　what　it　was　all　about。　The　other　professors　giving　the　course　had　appallingly　little　time　to　devote　to　the　students；　they　were　extremely　busy　researching　their　latest　books。　And　when　they　were　actually　teaching；　they　treated　their　students　with　contempt。
　'I　remember　sitting　in　on　a　class　just　after　mid…term。　Drs　Eng　and　Royston；　who　taught　the　meat　of　the　course；　announced　at　the　beginning　of　the　session　that　the　mid…term　papers　had　been　graded　and　were　ready　to　be　returned。　Royston　then　proceeded　to　give　his　lecture。　When　the　bell　rang；　Eng　asked　the　students　to　remain　seated　and；　with　perfect　precision；　laid　out　four　piles　of　papers　on　the　floor　at　the　front　of　the　hall。　〃Those　students　with　last　names　beginning　with　letters　A　through　F　will　find　their　papers　here；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　pile　on　his　right。　And　so　on。　Then　they　had　both　turned　away　and　left　the　hall　before　the　first　students　even　had　time　to　kneel；　scrabbling　through　the　piles。
　'It　was　degrading；'　Nicholas　said。　'That　kind　of　lack　of　respect　for　another　human　being　is　something　I　just　cannot　tolerate。'
　'So　you　liked　teaching。'
　He　thought　that　a　curious　thing　to　say。　'I　didn't　mind　it。'　He　made　himself　another　gin　and　tonic；　squeezed　a　section　of　lemon　before　dropping　it　into　the　ice…filled　glass。　'In　the　end　it　was　the　other　professors　who　made　the　semester　seem　long　to　me。　I　don't　imagine　they　thought　too　much　of　me。　After　all；　the　halls　of　academe　are　rather　closed。　Everyone　there　is　bound　by　the　stringency　of　the　situation。　〃Publish　or　perish〃　has　bee　a　cliché；　I　suppose。　But　for　them　it's　a　reality　which　they　must　face　every　day。〃　He　shrugged。　'I　imagine　they　resented　my　status。　I　had　all　the　best　parts　of　their　life　without　any　of　the　responsibilities。'
　'And　Royston　and　Eng。　What　were　they　like？'
　'Oh；　Royston　was　okay；　I　suppose。　Rather　stuffy　in　the　beginning　but…he　thawed　a　bit　later　on。　But　Eng'　…　he　shook　his　head　…　'Eng　was　a　bastard　all　right。　He　had　made　up　his　mind　about　me　before　we　had…even　been　introduced。　The　three　of　us　happened　to　he　in　the　lounge　one　afternoon。　〃So　you　were　born　in　Singapore；〃　he　said。　Just　like　that。　Standing　over　me；　peering　down　at　me　through　his　round　wire…rimmed　spectacles。　That's　what　they　must　have　been；　they　were　far　too　old…fashioned　to　be　called　glasses。　He　had　a　curious　manner　of　speech；　his　words　emerging　clipped；　almost　frozen；　so　that　you　could　imagine　them　hanging　in　mid…air　like　icicles。　〃A　disgusting　city；　if　you　will　pardon　my　saying　so。　Built　by　the　British；　who　had　no　more　regard　for　the　Chinese　than　they　did　for　the　Indians。〃'
　'What　did　you　say？'
　'Frankly；　I　was　too　stunned　to　say　much　of　anything；'　he　said　gloomily。　'The　bastard　had　hardly　said　two　words　to　me　all　semester。　He　took　me　quite　by　surprise。'
　'You　had　no　snappy　rejoinder。'
　'Only　that　he　was　wrong。　I　was　conceived　there。'　He　put　down　his　glass。　'I　asked　Dean　Whoolson　about　it　subsequently　but　he　merely　brushed　it　off。　〃Eng's　a　…genius；〃　was　how　he　put　it。　〃And　you　know　how　that　sort　is　sometimes。　I　must　tell　you；　we　are　damn　lucky　to　have　him　here。　He　almost　went　to　Harvard　but　we　snared　him　at　the　last　moment。　Convinced　him　of　the　superiority　of　our　research　facilities。〃　He　patted　me　on　the　back　as　if　I　were　the　department　mascot。　〃Who　ever　knows　with　Eng？〃　he　said。　〃Perhaps　he　thought　you　were　Malay。　We　all　must　make　allowances；　Mr　Linnear。〃'
　'I　don't　understand　that；'　Justine　said。　'You're　not　Malay；　are　you？'
　'No；　but　if　Eng　thought　I　was；　he　might　have　reason　to　dislike　me。　The　Chinese　and　the　Malays　were　constantly　at　each　other's　throats　in　the　Singapore　area。　No　love　lost　there。'
　'What　are　you？'　She　seemed　abruptly　quite　close　to　him；　her　eyes　enormous　and　very　luminous。　'There's　an　Asian　hint　in　your　face；　I　think。　In　your　eyes　perhaps；　or　in　the　height　of　your　cheekbones。'
　'My　father　was　English；'　he　said。　'A　Jew　who　was　forced　to　change　his　name　so　that　he　could　get　ahead　in　business　and　then；　during　the　war；　in　the　Army。　He　was　a　colonel。'
　'What　was　his　name？　Before　he　changed　it；　I　mean。'
　'I　don't　know。　He　wouldn't　tell　me。　〃Nicholas；〃　he　said　to　me　one　day；　〃what's　in　a　name？　The　man　who　tells　you　that　there　is　some　significance　in　his　name　is　a　bare…faced　liar。〃　'
　'But　weren't　you　ever　curious　about　it？'
　'Oh　yes。　For　a　time。　But　after　a　while　I　gave　up　looking。'
　'And　your　mother？'
　'Ah。　That　would　depend　on　whom　you　spoke　to。　She　always　maintained　that　she　was　pureblood。　Chinese。'
　'But；'　Justine　prompted。
　'But　in　all　likelihood　she　was　only　half　Chinese。　The　other　half　was　probably　Japanese。'　He　shrugged。　'Not　that　I　was　ever　certain。　It's　just　that　she　seemed　always　to　think　like　a　Japanese。'　He　smiled。　'Anyway；　I　am　a　romantic　and　it's　far　more　exciting　to　think　of　her　as　a　mixture。　An　unusual　mixture　given　the　mutual　animosity　historically　between　the　two　peoples。　More　mysterious。'
　'And　you　like　mysteries。'
　He　watched　the　sweep　of　her　dark　hair；　sliding　across　one　cheek；　hiding　the　eye　with　the　crimson　motes。　'In　a　sense。　。　Yes。'
　'Your　features　are　all　Caucasian；'　she　said；　abruptly　switching　topics。
　'Yes；'　Nicholas　said。　'Physically　I　take　after　my　father；　the　Colonel。'　He　put　his　head　back　on　the　couch；　his　hair　touching　her　outstretched　fingers　for　a　moment　before　she　moved　them　back；　curling　them　into　a　fist。　He　stared　up　at　the　patterned　pools　of　light　playing　upon　the　ceiling。　'Inside；　though；　I　am　my　mother's　son。'
　Doc　Deerforth　never　looked　forward　to　the　summer。　This　was　a　curious　thing；　he　thought；　because　it　was　invariably　his　busiest　time。　The　influx　from　the　city　never　ceased　to　astound　him；　the　migratory　pattern　of　almost　the　entire　Upper　East　Side　of　Manhattan；　as　fixed　and　precise　as　the　geese　flying　their　arrowhead　formations　south　in　the　winter。
　Not　that　Doc　Deerforth　knew　all　that　much　about　Manhattan；　not　these　days；　at　least；　he　had　not　set　foot　in　that　madhouse　in　over　five　years　and　then　it　had　been　only　to　pay　a　brief　visit　to　his　friend　Nate　Graumann；　New　York　City's　Chief　Medical　Examiner。
　He　was　quite　content　to　be　out　here。　He　had　his　daughters　who；　with　their　own　families；　visited　him　regularly　…　his　wife　had　died　of　leukemia　over　ten　years　ago；　turned　to　a　faded　photo　…　and　his　work　as　doctor　in　West　Bay　Bridge。　Then　there　was　his　ancillary　M。E。　work　for　Flower　at　Hauppauge。　They　liked　him　there　because　he　was　thorough　and　inventive；　Flower　kept　asking　him　if　he　would　e　to　work　for　the　Suffolk　County　M。E。　but　he　was　much　too　happy　where　he　was。　There　were　friends　here；　plentiful　and　warm　but；　most　of　all；　he　had　himself。　He　found　that；　essentially；　he　was　happy　with　himself。　That　did　not　stop　the　occasional　nightmare；　however；　from　creeping　through　like　a　clandestine　burglar　on　the　loose。　He　would　still　wake　up；　drenched　in　sweat；　the　damp　sheets　twisted　clammily　about　his　legs。　Some　nights　he　would　dream　of　white　blood　but　he　dreamed　of　other　things　as　well；　dream　symbols　of　his　personal　fright。　At　those　times　he　would　get　up　and　pad　silently　into　the　kitchen；　making　himself　a　cup　of　hot　cocoa；　and　would　read；　at　random；　from　on