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！
〃I'm past pain now；〃 he explained courteously。 〃No pain； whatever I do to myself。 The Razor…Eater feels nothing。〃 He was naked beneath his trousers。 〃See？〃 he said； proudly。
She saw。 His groin was pletely shaved； and the region sported an array…of self…inflicted adornments。 Hooks and rings transfixing the fat of his lower belly and his genitals。 His testicles bristled with needles。
〃Touch me；〃 he invited。
〃No 。 。 。 thank you；〃 she said。
He frowned； his upper lip curled to expose teeth that in his pale flesh looked bright yellow。
〃I want you to touch me；〃 he said； and reached for her。
〃Breer。 〃 The Razor…Eater stood absolutely still。 Only his eyes flickered。
〃Let her alone。〃 She knew the voice； too well。 It was the Architect； of course； her dreamguide。
〃I didn't hurt her；〃 Breer mumbled。 〃Did I？ Tell him I didn't hurt you。〃 〃Cover yourself up；〃 the European said。
Breer hoisted up his trousers like a boy caught masturbating； and moved away from Carys； throwing her a conspiratorial glance。 Only now did the speaker e into the steam room。 He was taller than she'd dreamed he'd be； and more doleful。
〃I'm sorry；〃 he said。 His tone was that of the perfect maitre d〃； apologizing for a gauche waiter。
〃She was sick；〃 Breer said。 〃That's why I broke in。〃 〃Sick？〃 〃Talking to the wall；〃 he blustered。 〃Calling after her mother。〃 The Architect understood the observation immediately。 He looked at Carys keenly。
〃So you saw？〃 he said。
〃What was it？〃 〃Nothing you need ever suffer again；〃 he replied。
〃My mother was there。 Evangeline。〃 〃Forget it all；〃 he said。 〃That horror's for others； not for you。〃 Listening to his calm voice was mesmeric。 She found it difficult to recall her nightmares of nullity； his presence canceled memory。
〃I think perhaps you should e with me；〃 he said。
〃Why？〃 〃Your father's going to die； Carys。〃 〃Oh？〃 she said。
She felt utterly removed from herself。 Fears were a thing of the past in his courteous presence。
〃If you stay here； you'll only suffer with him； and there's no need for that。〃 It was a seductive offer； never to live under the old man's thumb again； never to endure his kisses； that tasted so old。 Carys glanced at Breer。
〃Don't be afraid of him；〃 the Architect reassured her； laying a hand。 on the back of her neck。 〃He is nothing and no one。 You're safe with me。〃 〃She could run away；〃 Breer protested； when the European had let Carys go off to her room to gather up her belongings。
〃She will never leave me；〃 Mamoulian replied。 〃I mean her no harm and she knows it。 I rocked her once； in these arms。〃 〃Naked； was she？〃 〃A tiny thing： so vulnerable。〃 His voice dropped to a near…whisper： 〃She deserved better than him。〃 Breer said nothing； simply lolled insolently against the wall； peeling dried blood from under his nails with a razor。 He was deteriorating faster than the European had anticipated。 He'd hoped Breer would survive until all of this chaos was over； but knowing the old man； he'd wheedle and prevaricate； and what should have taken days would occupy weeks； by which time the Razor…Eater's condition would be poor indeed。 The European felt weary。 Finding and controlling a substitute for Breer would be a drain on his already depleted energies。
Presently； Carys came downstairs。
In some ways he regretted losing his spy in the enemy camp； but there were too many variables remaining if he didn't take her。 For one； she had knowledge of him； deeper knowledge than she was perhaps aware of。 She knew instinctively his terrors of the flesh； witness the way she had driven him out when she and Strauss had been together。 She knew too his weariness； his dwindling faith。 But there was another reason to take her。 Whitehead had said that she was his only fort。 If they took her now the pilgrim would be alone； and that would be agony。 Mamoulian trusted it would prove unendurable。
39
After searching as much of the grounds as was lit by the floodlights； and finding no sign of Whitehead； Marty went back upstairs。 It was time to break Whitehead's mandment； and look for the old man in forbidden territory。 The door to the room at the end of the top corridor； beyond Carys〃 and Whitehead's bedrooms； was closed。 Heart in mouth； Marty approached； and tapped on it。
〃Sir？〃 At first there was no sound from within。 Then came Whitehead's voice； vague； as if woken from sleep： 〃Who is it？〃 〃Strauss； sir。〃 〃e in。〃 Marty pushed the door gently and it swung open。
When he had imagined the interior of this room it had always been a treasure house。 But the truth was quite the reverse。 The room was Spartan： its white walls and its spare furnishings a chilly spectacle。 It did boast one treasure。 An altarpiece stood against one of the bare walls； its richness quite out of place in such an austere setting。 Its central panel was a crucifixion of sublime sadism； all gold and blood。
Its owner sat； dressed in an opulent dressing gown； at the far end of the room； behind a large table。 He looked at Marty with neither wele nor accusation on his face； his body slumped in the chair like a sack。
〃Don't stand in the doorway； man。 e in。〃 Marty closed the door behind him。
〃I know what you told me； sir； about never ing up here。 But I was afraid something had happened to you。〃 〃I'm alive；〃 Whitehead said； spreading his hands。 〃All's well。〃 〃The dogs…〃
〃…are dead。 I know。 Sit。〃 He gestured to the empty chair opposite him across the table。
〃Shouldn't I call the police？〃 〃There's no need。〃 〃They could still be on the premises。〃 Whitehead shook his head。 〃They've gone。 Sit down； Martin。 Pour yourself a glass of wine。 You look as if you've been running hard。〃 Marty pulled out the chair that had been neatly placed under the table and sat down。 The unadorned bulb that burned in the middle of the room threw an unflattering light on everything。 Heavy shadows； ghastly highlights： a ghost show。
〃Put down the gun。 You won't be needing it。〃 He lay the weapon down on the table beside the plate； on which there were still several wafer…thin slices of meat。 Beyond the plate； a bowl of strawberries； partially devoured； and a glass of water。 The frugality of the meal matched the environment： the meat； sliced to the point of transparency； rare and moist； the casual arrangement of cups and strawberry bowl。 An arbitrary precision invested everything； an eerie sense of chance beauty。 Between Marty and Whitehead a mote of dust turned in the air； fluctuating between the light bulb and table； its …direction influenced by the merest exhalation。
〃Try the meat； Martin。〃 〃I'm not hungry。〃 〃It's superb。 My guest brought it。〃 〃You know who they are； then。〃 〃Yes； of course。 Now eat。〃 Reluctantly Marty cut a piece of the slice in front of him； and tasted it。 The texture dissolved on the tongue； delicate and appetizing。
〃Finish it off；〃 Whitehead said。
Marty did as the old man had invited： the night's exertions had given him an appetite。 A glass of red wine was poured for him； he drank it down。
〃Your head's full of questions； no doubt；〃 Whitehead said。 〃Please ask away。 I'll do my best to answer。〃 〃Who are they？〃 he asked。
〃Fri