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！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
And if a blown tire； why not a malfunctioning lock？ If coincidence can give； it can take。 Mr。 Vess lives with intensity but not without caution。 Now this woman； calling for Ariel； has e into his life； like a blown tire； and suddenlyhe's not sure if she is a gift to him or he to her。
Remembering her revolver and wishing for Dobermans； he glides across the laundry room to the cellar door。
The woman's voice rises from the stairs below： 〃China Shepherd untouched and alive。〃
The words are so strange…the meaning so mysterious…that they seem to be an incantation； encoded and cryptic。
Confirming that perception； the woman repeats herself； as though she is chanting： 〃China Shepherd untouched and alive。〃
Though Vess is not usually superstitious； he experiences a heightened sense of the supernatural； beyond anything he's felt thus far。 His scalp prickles； and the flesh on the nape of his neck crawls； and his hand tightens on the pistol。
After a hesitation； he leans through the open door and looks down the cellar stairs。
The woman is only a few steps from the bottom。 She's got one hand on the railing； the revolver held out in front of her in the other hand。
Not a cop。 An amateur。 Nonetheless； she might be Mr。 Vess's blown tire； and he's jumpy； twitchy； still extremely curious about her but prepared to put his safety ahead of his curiosity。
He eases through the doorway onto the upper landing。 As close as she is； she does not hear him because all is concrete； nothing to creak。
He aims his pistol at the center of her back。 The first shot will catapult her off her feet； send her 'flying with her arms spread toward the basement below； and the second shot will take her as she is in flight。 Then he'll race down the stairs behind her； firing the third and fourth rounds； hitting her in the legs if possible。 He'll drop on top of her； press the muzzle into the back of her head； and then； then； then when he's totally in control of her； dominant； he can decide whether she's still a threat or not； whether he can risk questioning her or whether she's so dangerous that nothing will do but to put a couple of rounds in her brain。
As the woman passes under the light near the foot of the stairs； Mr。 Vess gets a better look at her revolver。 It is indeed a Smith & Wesson … 38 Chief's Special； as he had thought earlier； when he had seen it from the second…floor bedroom window； but suddenly the make and model of the weapon have electrifying meaning for him。
He smells a Slim Jim sausage。 He remembers liquid…night eyes widening in shock； terror； and despair。
He has seen two of these guns in the past several hours。 The first belonged to the young Asian gentleman at the service station； who drew it from under the counter in self…defense but never had the opportunity to fire。
Although the Chief's Special is a popular revolver； it is not so universally admired that one sees it everywhere in use。 Edgler Vess knows； with the certainty of a fox on the scent of a rabbit in the weeds； that this is the same gun。
Although there are still many mysteries about the woman on the stairs below him； though her presence here is no less astonishing to him than it was before； there is nothing supernatural about her。 She knows the name Ariel not because she has been watching from some world beyond this one； not because she is in the dutiful service of some higher force； but simply because she must have been tbere； in the service station； when Vess was chatting up the two clerks and when； moments later； he killed them。
Where she could have been hiding； how he could have overlooked her； why she would feel the need to pursue him； where she got all the courage for this reckless adventure…these are things he can't discern through intuition alone。 But now he will have the opportunity to put these questions to her。
Lowering his pistol； he steps back into the laundry room； lest she glance up the stairs and see him。
His uncharacteristic fear； his eerie perception of oppressive supernatural forces； lifts like a fog from him； and he is amazed by his own brief spasm of gullibility。 He； who has no illusions about the nature of existence。 He； who is so clear…seeing。 i1e； who knows the primacy of pure sensation。 Even he； the most rational of all men； has spooked。
He almost laughs at his foolishness； and at once puts it out of his mind。
The woman must be to the bottom of the stairs by now。
He will allow her to explore。 After all； for whatever bizarre reasons； this is what she has e here to do； and Vess is curious about her reactions to the things that she discovers。
He is having fun again。 Once more； the game is on。
Chyna reached the bottom of the stairs。
The outer wall of mortared stone was to her right。 There was nowhere to go in that direction。
To her left was a chamber about ten feet from front to back； and as wide as the house。 She moved away from the foot of the stairs； into this new space。
At one end stood an oil…fired furnace and a large electric water heater。 At the other end were tall metal storage cabinets with vent slits in the doors； a workbench； and a tool chest on wheels。
Directly ahead； in a concrete…block wall； a strange door waited。 Click…whoosh。 Chyna swung to the right and almost squeezed off a shot before she realized that the sound had e from the fiirnace： the electric pilot light clicking on； fiiel taking flame。
Over the sound of the furnace； she was still able to hear the vibrating pipe。 Tatta…tatta…tatta。 It was fainter here than on the stairs； but still audible。
She could barely make out the music from the second…floor bathroom； an inconstant thread of melody； primarily the passages in brass or wailing clarinet。
Evidently for soundproofing； the door in the back wall was padded like a theater door； in leather…grain maroon vinyl divided into quiltlike squares by eight upholstery nails with large round heads covered in matching vinyl。 The frame was upholstered in the same material。
No lock； not even a spring latch； prevented her from proceeding。 Putting her hand on the vinyl； Chyna discovered that the padding was even more plush than it appeared to be。 As much as two inches of foam covered the underlying wood。
She gripped the long stainless…steel； U…shaped handle。 When she pulled； the vinyl…encased door softly scraped and squeaked across the upholstery on the jamb。 The fit was snug： When the door swung all the way free of the jamb and the seal was broken； there was a faint sound similar to that made when one opened a jar of vacuum…packed peanuts。
The door was upholstered on the inside as well。 The overall thickness was in excess of five inches。
Beyond this new threshold lay a six…foot…square chamber with a low ceiling； which reminded her of an elevator； except that every surface other than the floor was upholstered。 The floor was covered with a rubber mat of the kind used in many restaurant kitchens for the fort of cooks who worked on their feet for hours at a time。 In the dim light from the recessed overhead bulb； she saw that the fabric here wasn't vinyl but gray cotton with a nubbly texture。
The strangeness of the place sharpened her fear； yet at the same time she was so sur