dk.coldfire-第23部分

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；　holding　a　wad　of　Kleenex　against　the　wounds；　until　the　lacerations　were　no　longer　oozing。　
　By　the　time　Holly　had　dressed　in　tan　jeans　and　an　emerald…green　blouse；　it　was　seven…thirty。　
　She　already　knew　how　she　was　going　to　start　the　day；　and　nothing　could　distract　her　from　her　plans。　She　had　no　appetite　whatsoever　for　breakfast。　
　When　she　stepped　outside；　she　discovered　that　the　morning　was　cloudy　and　unusually　temperate　even　for　Orange　County；　but　the　sublime　weather　had　no　mellowing　influence　on　her　and　did　not　tempt　her　to　pause　even　for　a　moment　to　relish　the　early　sun　on　her　face。　She　drove　the　rental　car　across　the　parking　lot；　out　to　the　street；　and　headed　toward　Laguna　Niguel。　She　was　going　to　ring　James　Ironheart's　doorbell　and　demand　a　lot　of　answers。　
　She　wanted　his　full　story；　the　explanation　of　how　he　could　know　when　people　were　about　to　die　and　why　he　took　such　extreme　risks　to　save　to　strangers。　But　she　also　wanted　to　know　why　last　night's　bad　dream　had　bee　real；　how　and　why　her　bedroom　wall　had　begun　to　glisten　and；　throb　like　flesh；　and　what　manner　of　creature　had　popped　out　of　her　nightmare　and　seized　her　in　talons　formed　of　something　more　substantial　than　dreamstuff。　
　She　was　convinced　that　he　would　have　the　answers。　Last　night；　for　only　the　second　time　in　her　thirty…three　years；　she'd　encountered　the　unknown　been　sideswiped　by　the　supernatural。　The　first　time　had　been　on　August　12　when　Ironheart　had　miraculously　saved　Billy　Jenkins　from　being　mow　down　by　a　truck　in　front　of　the　McAlbery　School…although　she　hadn　realized　until　later　that　he　had　stepped　right　out　of　the　Twilight　Zone：　Though　she　was　willing　to　cop　to　a　lot　of　faults；　stupidity　was　not　one　of　them。　Anyone　but　a　fool　could　see　that　both　collisions　with　the　paranormal；　Ironheart　and　the　nightmare…made…real；　were　related。　
　She　was　more　than　merely　angry。　She　was　pissed。　
　As　she　cruised　down　Crown　Valley　Parkway；　she　realized　that　her　anger　sprang；　in　part；　from　the　discovery　that　her　big；　career…making　story　was　turning　out　not　to　be　strictly　about　amazement　and　wonder　and　courage　and　hope　and　triumph；　as　she　had　anticipated。　Like　the　vast　majority　articles　that　had　appeared　on　the　front　pages　of　newspapers　since　invention　of　the　printing　press；　this　story　had　a　dark　side。　
　Jim　had　showered　and　dressed　for　church。　He　did　not　regularly　attend　Sunday　Mass　any　more；　or　the　services　of　any　other　of　the　religions　to　which　he　had　been　sporadically　mitted　over　the　years。　But　having　been　in　the　control　of　a　higher　power　since　at　least　last　May；　when　he　had　flown　to　Florida　to　save　the　lives　of　Sam　and　Emily　Newsome；　he　was　disposed　to　think　about　God　more　than　usual。　And　since　Father　Geary　had　told　him　about　the　stigmata　that　had　marked　his　body　while　he　lay　unconscious　on　the　floor　of　Our　Lady　of　the　Desert；　less　than　a　week　ago；　he　had　felt　the　tidal　pull　of　Catholicism　for　the　first　time　in　a　couple　of　years。　He　didn't　actually　expect　that　the　mystery　of　recent　events　would　be　cleared　up　by　answers　he　would　find　in　church…but　he　could　hope。　
　As　he　plucked　his　car　keys　off　the　pegboard　on　the　kitchen　wall　beside　the　door　to　the　garage；　he　heard　himself　say；　〃Life　line。〃　
　Immediately；　his　plans　for　the　day　were　changed。　He　froze；　not　sure　what　to　do。　Then　the　familiar　feeling　of　being　a　marionette　overcame　him；　and　he　hung　the　keys　back　on　the　pegboard。　
　He　returned　to　the　bedroom　and　stripped　out　of　his　loafers；　gray　slacks；　dark…blue　sportcoat；　and　white　shirt。　He　dressed　in　chinos　and　a　blousy　Hawaiian　shirt；　which　he　wore　over　his　pants　in　order　to　be　as　unhampered　as　possible　by　his　clothing。　
　He　needed　to　stay　loose；　flexible。　He　had　no　idea　why　looseness　and　flexibility　were　desirable　for　what　lay　ahead；　but　he　felt　the　need　just　the　same。　
　Sitting　on　the　floor　in　front　of　the　closet；　he　selected　a　pair　of　shoes…the　most　fortable；　broken…in　pair　of　Rockports　that　he　owned。　
　He　tied　them　securely　but　not　too　tightly。　He　stood　up　and　tested　the　fit。　Good。　
　He　reached　for　the　suitcase　on　the　top　shelf；　then　hesitated。　He　was　not　sure　that　he　would　require　luggage。　A　few　seconds　later；　he　knew　that　he　would　be　traveling　light。　He　slid　the　closet　door　shut　without　taking　down　the　bag。　
　No　luggage　usually　meant　that　his　destination　would　be　within　driving　distance　and　that　the　round…trip；　including　the　time　needed　to　perform　whatever　work　was　expected　of　him；　would　take　no　more　than　twenty…four　hours。　But　as　he　turned　away　from　the　closet；　he　surprised　himself　by　saying；　〃Airport。〃　Of　course；　there　were　a　lot　of　places　to　which　he　could　fly　round…trip　in　a　single　day。　
　He　picked　his　wallet　off　the　dresser；　waited　to　see　if　he　felt　pelled　to　put　it　down　again；　and　finally　slipped　it　into　his　hip　pocket。　
　Evidently　he　would　need　not　only　money　but　ID…or　at　least　he　would　not　risk　exposure　by　carrying　it。　
　As　he　walked　to　the　kitchen　again　and　took　the　car　keys　off　the　pegboard；　fear　played　through　him；　although　not　as　strongly　as　it　had　the　last　time　he　had　left　his　house　on　a　mission。　That　day　he　had　been　〃told〃　to　steal　a　car　so　it　could　not　be　traced　to　him；　and　to　drive　into　the　Mojavi　Desert。　This　time　he　might　encounter　adversaries　even　more　formidable　than　the　two　men　in　the　Road　king；　but　he　was　not　as　worried　as　he'd　been　before。　He　knew　he　could　die。　Being　the　instrument　of　a　higher　power　came　with　no　guarantees　of　immortality；　he　was　still　only　a　man　whose　flesh　could　be　torn；　whose　bones　could　be　broken；　and　whose　heart　could　be　stopped　instantly　with　a　well…placed　bullet。　The　amelioration　of　his　fear　was　attributable　solely　to　his　somewhat　mystical　journey　on　the　Harley；　two　days　with　Father　Geary；　the　report　of　the　stigmata　that　had　appeared　on　him；　and　the　resulting　conviction　that　a　divine　hand　was　at　work　in　all　of　this。　
　Holly　was　on　Bougainvillea　Way；　a　block　from　Ironheart's　house；　when　a　dark…green　Ford　backed　out　of　his　driveway。　She　did　not　know　what　kind　of　car　he　drove；　but　since　he　lived　alone；　she　assumed　the　Ford　had　to　be　his。　
　She　speeded　up；　half　intending　to　swing　around　him；　angle　across　his　bow；　force　him　to　stop；　and　confront　him　right　in　the　street。　Then　she　slowed　down　again；　figuring　discretion　was　seldom　a　fatal　error。　
　She　might　as　well　see　where　he　was　going；　what　he　was　up　to。　
　As　she　passed　his　house；　the　automatic　garage　door　was　rolling　down　Just　before　it　closed；　she　was　able　to　see　that　no　other　car　was　in　there。The　man　in　the　Ford　had　to　be　Ironheart。　
　Because　she　had　never　been　assigned　to　stories　about　paranoid　drug　lords　or　bent　politicians　or　corrupt　businessmen；　Holly　was　not　expert　at　tailing　a　surveillance　subject　through　traffic。　The　skills　and　techniques　of　clandestine　operations　were　not　necessary　when　you　wrote　exclusives　about　Timber　Trophies；　performance　artists　in　radiation　suits　who　juggled　live　mice　on　the　steps　of　city　hall　and　called　it　〃art；〃　and　pie…eating　contests。　She　was　also　mindful　of　the　fact　that　Ironheart　had　taken　a　two…week　course　in　aggressive　driving　at　a　special　school　in　Marin　County；　if　he　knew　how　to　handle　a　car　well　enough　to　shake　off　pursuing　terrorists；　he　would　leave　her　in　the　dust　about　thirty　seconds　after　he　realized　she　was　following　him。　
　She　hung　as　far　back　as　she　dared。　Fortunately；　the　Sunday…morning　traffic　was　heavy　enough　to　allow　her　to　hide　behind　other　cars。　But　it　was　light　enough　so　she　didn't　have　to　worry　that　the　lanes　would　suddenly　clog　up　between　her　and　Ironheart；　cutting　her　off　until　he　disappeared　from　sight。　
　He　drove　east　on　Crown　Valley　Parkway　to　Interstate　5；　then　north　toward　Los　Angeles　on　405。　
　By　the　time　they　had　passed　the　clustered　high　rises　around　South　Coast　Plaza；　the　primary　shopping　and　office　center　for　the　two　million　people　in　the　Orange　County　metroplex；　Holly's　mood　was　better　than　it　had　been。　
　She　was　proving　to　be　adept　at　mobile　surveillance；　staying　from　two　to　six　cars　in　back　of　Ironheart　but　always　close　enough　to　follow　if　he　abruptly　swung　onto　an　exit　ramp。　Her　anger　was　tempered　by　the　pleasure　she　took　in　her　skillful　pursuit。　Now　and　then　she　even　found　herself　admiring　the　clarity　of　the　blue　sky　and　the　profusely　flowering　pink　and　white　oleanders　that　flanked　the　freeway　at　some　places。　
　Passing　Long　Beach；　however；　she　began　to　worry　that　she　was　going　to　spend　the　whole　day　on　the　road　with　him；　only　to　discover　that　wherever　he　was　going　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　enigma　that　concerned　her。　Even　a　self　appointed　superhero　with　clairvoyant　powers　might　just　spend　a　day　taking　in　a　theater　matinee；　doing　nothing　more　dangerous　than　eating　Szechuan　Chinese　with　the　chef's　hottest　mustard。　
　She　began　to　wonder；　as　well；　if　he　might　bee　aware　of　her　through　his　psychic　powers。　Sensing　her　a　few　cars　back　seemed　a　lot　easier　than　foreseeing　the　approaching　death　of　a　small　boy　in　Boston。　
　On　the　other　hand；　maybe　clairvoyance　was　an　inconstant　power；　something　he　could　not　turn　on　and　off　at　will；　and　maybe　it　only　worked　on　the　big　things；　zapping　him　with　either　visions　of　danger　and　destruction　and　deathor　no　visions　at　all。　Which　made　sense　in　a　way。　
　It　would　probably　drive　you　insane　to　have　psychic　visions　that　told　you　in　advance　whether　you　were　going　to　enjoy　a　particular　movie；　have　a　good　dinner；　or　get　a　bad　case　of　gas　and　the　bloats　from　that　garlicky　angel…hair　pasta　that　you　were　enjoying　so　much。　Nevertheless；　she　dropped　back　a　little　farther；　putting　one　more　car　between　them。　
　When　Ironheart　left　the　freeway　at　the　exit　for　Los　Angeles　International　Airport；　Holly　became　excited。　Perhaps　he　was　only　meeting　someone　on　an　ining　flight。　But　it　was　more　likely　that　he　was　catching　a　plane　out；　embarking　on　one　of　his　timely　rescue　missions；　just　as　he　had　flown　to　Portland　on　August　12；　nearly　two　weeks　ago。　Holly　was　not　prepared　to　travel；　she　didn't　even　have　a　change　of　clothes。　However；　she　had　cash　and　credit　cards　to　handle　expenses；　and　she　could　buy　a　fresh　blouse　anywhere。　The　prospect　of　tailing　him　all　the　way　to　the　scene　of　the　action　tantalized　her。　
　Ultimately；　when　she　wrote　about　him；　she　would　be　able　to　do　so　with　more　authority　if　she　had　been　an　eye…witness　at　two　of　his　rescu