cc.fireice-第43部分

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ly　as　Popov　related　his　adventures　with　waterspouts　and　storms；　leaky　vessels；　pirates　and　bandits；　thievish　merchants；　knavish　bureaucrats　and　mutinous　crews。
　
　The　most　poignant　chapter　was　one　entitled　〃The　Little　Mermaid。〃　Popov　had　been　the　skipper　of　a　freighter　carrying　a　cargo　of　lumber　across　the　Black　Sea。　One　night　the　lookout　saw　the　flash　of　lights　in　the　distance　and　heard　what　sounded　like　distant　thunder；　although　the　sky　was　clear。　Thinking　someone　might　be　in　trouble；　Popov　investigated。
　
　〃When　my　ship　arrived　several　minutes　later；　we　encountered　an　oil　slick；　and　a　cloud　of　black　greasy　smoke；　hung　on　the　water：　There　was　debris　floating　everywhere　and；　more　horrifying；　burned　and　mutilated　bodies。　Despite　my　entreaties；　my　crew　refused　to　recover　the　corpses；　saying　they　were　bad　luck；　and　dead　and　gone　in　any　case。　I　called　for　Stop　engines　and　we　listened。　All　was　silent。　Then　came　what　sounded　like　the　cry　of　a　seabird。　I　enlisted　my　loyal　first　mate　and　launched　a　boat。　We　made　our　way　through　the　sad　flotsam　toward　the　sound。　Imagine　our　surprise　when　the　lamplight　fell　upon　the　golden　tresses　of　a　young　girl。　She　was　clinging　to　a　wooden　crate　and；　had　we　arrived　minutes　later；　would　have　frozen　to　death　in　the　frigid　black　water：　We　pulled　her　into　the　boat　and　cleaned　the　oil　from　her　face。　My　mate　exclaimed：　'Why；　she　looks　like　a　mermaid！'　My　crewmen；　seeing　our　lovely　burden；　put　aside　their　rebellious　emotions　and　ministered　to　the　girl。　When　she　recovered；　she　proved　herself　to　be　quite　well…spoken。　She　conversed　easily　in　French　with　one　of　our　crew。　She　said　she　had　been　traveling　with　her　family　on　a　ship　called　the　Odessa　Star。　Although　she　recalled　the　ship's　name；　she　could　not　remember　her　own　but　thought　it　might　be　Maria。　Of　her　life　before　the　ship　went　down　and　the　circumstances　of　its　sinking；　she　could　remember　nothing。　The　tough　old　salts　aboard　my　ship　could　not　have　been　more　tender　in　their　regard　and　called　her　'the　little　mermaid。'　〃
　
　The　captain　reported　the　incident　when　he　got　back　to　port；　but　strangely　he　told　the　authorities　nothing　about　the　girl。　His　omission　was　explained　in　the　epilogue。
　
　〃Some　of　my　dear　readers　may　have　wondered　what　became　of　the　little　mermaid。　Now　that　many　years　have　passed；　I　feel　free　to　reveal　the　truth。　When　I　found　the　girl　floating　barely　alive　on　the　billows；　I　had　been　married　five　years。　In　all　that　time；　my　lovely　young　wife　had　been　unable　to　conceive　a　child。　Upon　my　return　to　the　Caucasus；　we　adopted　Maria　as　our　own。　She　was　a　joy　to　both　of　us　before　my　wife　died；　and　became　a　lovely　young　woman　who；　in　time；　married　and　had　children　of　her　own。　Now；　in　my　retirement；　I　feel　that　it　is　time　to　reveal　to　the　world　the　precious　gift　the　sea　gave　to　me　after　years　of　inflicting　so　many　hardships。〃
　
　Perlmutter　put　the　book　down　and　picked　up　the　Times　review。　The　reviewer　had　been　critical　of　the　writing；　but　intrigued　by　the　story　of　the　mermaid；　which　he　described　at　great　length。　Perlmutter　guessed　that　some　sharp…eyed　Lloyd's　operative　had　seen　the　reference　to　the　Odessa　Star　and　attached　it　to　the　claim　file　on　the　missing　ship。
　
　The　captain's　account　had　been　so　fascinating　Perlmutter　had　forgotten　his　snack。　He　remedied　the　situation　quickly　by　slathering　twenty　dollars'　worth　of　truffle　onto　a　cracker。　Back　once　more　in　the　present；　Perlmutter　stared　out　the　window　as　he　savored　the　delicate　earthy　taste。　Then　he　remembered　Bosworth's　ment　about　Lord　Dodson。　He　read　her　note　again　and　wondered　why　the　Dodson　family　would　have　pulled　the　archives　from　the　library。
　
　Despite　his　ungainly　bulk；　Perlmutter　was　very　much　a　man　of　action。　He　picked　up　the　phone　and　dialed　a　couple　of　acquaintances　in　London。　Within　minutes；　he　learned　that　Lord　Dodson's　grandson；　himself　a　lord；　was　alive　and　living　in　the　Cotswolds。　Perlmutter　got　a　phone　number；　al…　though　his　source　made　him　swear　under　pain　of　eating　at　Burger　King　not　to　reveal　where　he　had　gotten　it。　Perlmutter　called　and　identified　himself　to　the　man　who　answered　the　phone。
　
　〃This　is　Lord　Dodson。　You　say　you're　a　marine　historian？〃　He　sounded　bemused　but　pleasant；　speaking　in　the　clipped　accent　of　the　British　upper　class。
　
　〃That's　correct。　I　came　across　a　reference　to　your　grandfather's　memoirs　while　doing　some　research　on　a　ship　called　the　Odessa　Sta；；　The　library　apparently　relinquished　the　material　at　the　request　of　your　family。　I　wonder　when　the　material　might　be　going　back　to　Guildhall。〃
　
　There　was　a　silence　on　the　other　end。　Then　Dodson　said；　〃Never！　I　mean；　some　of　the　material　is　much　too　personal　in　nature。　You　must　understand　that；　Mr。　Perlman。〃　He　sounded　flustered。
　
　〃The　name　is　Perlmutter；　if　you　don't　mind；　Lord　Dodson。　Surely　the　historical　material　could　be　made　separate　from　the　personal。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　Mr。　Perlmutter；〃　Dodson　said；　getting　his　voice　under　control。　〃It's　all　part　and　parcel。　It　would　do　no　one　any　good　and　cause　a　great　deal　of　painful　embarrassment　if　this　material　were　made　public。〃
　〃Forgive　me　for　being　obtuse；　but　I　understand　that　he　willed　all　the　material　to　the　library　to　be　put　in　the　archives。〃
　〃Yes；　that's　true。　But　you　have　to　understand　my　grandfather。　He　was　a　man　of　towering　rectitude。〃　Catching　the　unintentional　parison　to　his　own　character；　Dodson　said；　〃What　I　mean　was　that　he　was　naive　in　many　ways。〃
　〃He　couldn't　have　been　too　naive　to　hold　a　high　post　in　the　Foreign　Office。〃
　
　Dodson　laughed　nervously。　〃You　Americans　can　be　damnably　persistent。　Look　Mr。　Perlmutter；　I　don't　wish　to　be　rude；　but　I　must　terminate　this　conversation。　Thank　you　for　your　interest。　Good…bye。〃
　
　The　phone　went　dead。　Perlmutter　stared　at　it　for　a　moment　and　shook　his　head。　Strange。　Why　would　the　old　boy　be　so　upset　at　an　innocent　query？　What　secret　could　be　so　painful　after　so　many　years？　Well；　he　had　done　his　best。　He　punched　out　the　number　Austin　had　given　him。　He　would　let　others　determine　why　the　Odessa　Star　could　upset　someone　more　than　eighty　years　after　the　ship　had　gone　to　her　grave　in　the　Black　Sea。
　
　…23…
　MOSCOW；　RUSSIA
　
　THE　NIGHTCLUB　WAS　a　short　walk　from　Gorky　Park；　in　a　narrow　alley　that　had　once　been　a　rat…infested　flophouse　for　vodka…soaked　human　derelicts　who　used　trash…can　covers　as　their　pillows。　The　drunks　had　been　displaced　by　swarms　of　young　people　who　looked　as　if　they　had　stepped　off　a　UFO。　The　crowds　gathered　each　night　out…　side　a　blue　door　lit　by　a　single　lamp。　The　unmarked　door　was　the　entrance　to　a　Moscow　night　spot　so　trendy　it　didn't　even　have　a　name。
　
　The　enterprising　young　Muscovite　who'd　founded　the　club　had　seen　the　potential　in　bringing　together　Moscow's　crass　nouveau　riche　and　the　tackiest　of　Western　pop　culture。　He'd　modeled　his　venture　on　Club　54；　the　defunct　but　exclusive　New　York　dive　that　had　made　international　headlines　before　it　drowned　in　a　sea　of　tax　woes　and　illegal　drugs。　The　club　was　located　in　a　cavernous　space　that　had　once　housed　a　state…run　sweatshop　where　underpaid　workers　toiled　making　ripoffs　of　American　jeans。　Clubgoers　who　were　allowed　inside　found　frenetic　dance　music；　stroboscopic　lighting　and　designer　drugs　supplied　by　the　Russian　Mafia；　which　had　taken　over　the　club　after　the　original　owner　died　of　acute　lead　poisoning。
　
　Petrov　stood　at　the　edge　of　the　crowd；　watching。　The　hopeful　patrons　wore　bizarre　costumes　to　attract　the　attention　of　the　burly　doorman　in　black　leather　who　stood　between　them　and　drug…induced　ecstasy。　Petrov　stared　at　the　crowd　in　wonder　for　a　moment；　then　shouldered　his　way　between　a　young　woman　dressed　in　a　translucent　plastic　halter　and　shorts　and　her　male　panion；　who　wore　an　aluminum　foil　bikini。　The　doorman　glared　at　the　approaching　stranger　like　a　bull　mastiff　watching　a　cat　move　in　on　its　food　dish。　Petrov　stopped　short　of　the　entrance　and　handed　the　doorman　a　folded　sheet　of　paper。
　

　He　read　the　note　with　small；　suspicious　eyes；　pocketed　the　hundred…dollar　bill　inside；　then　called　another　guard　to　take　his　place。　He　disappeared　through　the　blue　door　and　returned　with　a　stocky　middle…aged　man　dressed　in　the　uniform　of　a　Soviet　naval　officer；　plete　with　high…peaked　cap。　The　officer's　chest　was　covered　with　more　medals　than　anyone　could　have　earned　in　several　lifetimes。　The　guard　pointed　out　Petrov。　The　man　in　uniform　scanned　the　faces；　scowling。　Recognition　flickered　in　his　heavy…lidded　eyes　and　he　waved　Petrov　inside。
　
　The　full　impact　of　the　pulsating　music　almost　knocked　Petrov　over。　Out　on　the　huge　dance　floor；　a　mass　of　bodies　writhed　as　one　to　the　monotonous　rave　beat　from　dozens　of　speakers　that　looked　as　if　they　had　been　used　at　Woodstock。　He　was　grateful　when　the　naval　officer　led　him　down　a　passageway　into　a　storage　room　and　closed　the　door　so　that　the　sound　was　a　muffled　throb。
　
　〃I　e　here　sometimes　to　get　away　from　that　racket；〃　the　naval　officer　said。　The　manding　voice　Petrov　remembered　had　bee　gravelly；　and　there　was　the　stale　smell　of　vodka　on　the　man's　breath。　His　thick　lips　curled　in　a　smile。　〃I　thought　you　were　dead；　tovarich。〃
　〃It's　a　miracle　I'm　not　dead；　Admiral；〃　Petrov　said；　eyeing　the　uniform　from　head　to　toe。　〃Some　things　are　worse　than　death。〃
　
　The　admiral's　smile　vanished。　〃You　don't　have　to　tell　me　how　low　I　have　fallen。　I　still　have　eyes。　But　no　lower　than　someone　who　would　amuse　himself　at　the　expense　of　an　old　rade。〃
　

　〃I　agree；　but　I　am　not　here　for　amusement。　I　came　to　ask　your　help　and　to　offer　mine。〃
　
　The　admiral　let　out　with　a　wet　laugh。　〃What　help　can　I　give　you？　I　am　nothing　but　a　clown。　The　human　garbage　that　runs　this　place　keeps　me　around　to　entertain　their　patrons　and　remind　them　of　the　bad　old　days。　Well；　they　were　not　bad　for　everyone。〃
　〃True；　my　friend。　Nor　were　they　good　for　everyone；〃　Petrov　said；　bringing　his　hand　up　to　the　scar　that　disfigured　his　face。
　
　〃In　the　old　days；　we　were　feared　and　respected。〃
　〃By　our　enemies；〃　Petrov　said。　〃Yet　we　were　despised　by　our　government；　who　quickly　forgot　our　sacrifices　when　they　no　longer　needed　us　for　their　dirty　work。　Your　once　proud　navy　is　a　joke。　Heroes　like　you　are　reduced　to　this。〃
　
　The　admiral's　shoulders　sagged　under　t