JACK1 TROTTER, KNOWN TO THE WORLD BY MANY names, known only to Corky as Queeg von Hindenburg, didn’t live in the glamorous2 part of Malibu. He resided far from those view hills and beaches where actors and rock stars and the fabulously3 wealthy founders4 of bankrupt dot-com companies sunned, played, and shared recipes for cannabis brownies.
Instead, he lived inland, behind the hills and beyond the sight of the sea, in one of the rustic5 canyons6 that appealed not only to those who kept horses and loved the simple life but also to troubled cranks and crackpots, weedheads with names like Boomer and Moose who farmed marijuana under lamps in barns and bunkers, ecoterrorists scheming to blow up auto8 dealerships in the name of endangered tree rats, and religious cultists worshiping UFOs.
A ranch9 fence badly in need of paint surrounded Trotter’s four acres. He usually kept the gate shut to discourage visitors.
Today the gate hung wide open because he feared that Corky—known to him as Robin10 Goodfellow, kick-ass federal agent—would drive through that barrier, battering11 it off its hinges, as he’d done once before.
At the end of the graveled driveway stood the hacienda-style house [419] of pale yellow stucco and exposed timbers. Not dilapidated enough to be called ramshackle, not nearly dirty enough to be called squalid, the place suffered instead from a sort of genteel neglect.
Trotter didn’t spend much money maintaining his home because he expected to have to flee at any moment. A man with his head in the lunette of a guillotine lived with no more tension than what Jack Trotter daily endured.
A conspiracy12 theorist, he believed that a secret cabal13 ran the nation, that it intended soon to dispense14 with democracy and impose brutal15 dictatorial16 control. He was ever alert for early signs of the coming crackdown.
Currently Trotter believed that post-office employees would be the vanguard of the repression17. They were, in his estimation, not the mere18 bureaucrats19 they appeared to be, but highly trained shock troops masquerading as innocent letter carriers.
He had prepared a series of bolt-holes, each more remote than the one before it. He hoped to escape civilization by degrees when the bloodbath began.
No doubt he would have fled after Corky’s first visit had he not believed that Corky, as Robin Goodfellow, knew the location of every one of his bolt-holes and would descend20 on him in his hideaway with a company of cutthroat mailmen who would show no mercy.
Toward the east end of the property, away from the house, stood an ancient unpainted barn and a prefab steel building of more recent construction. Corky knew only some of what Trotter was up to in those structures, but he pretended to have full knowledge.
In the fierce heat of summer, the real threat to Trotter would be fire, not a wicked government cabal. The steep slopes behind his property, as well as half the narrow valley both up-canyon7 and down-canyon, bristled21 with wild brush that, by late August, would be as ready for burning as Brittina Dowd’s house had proved to be with the application of a little gasoline.
Now, of course, the steep slopes were so supersaturated with rain [420] that the risk was a mud slide. In this terrain22, a canyon wall could descend in a tidal wave of muck with such suddenness that even a wild-eyed paranoid with every nerve fully23 cocked might not be able to outrun it. If he broke into a sprint24 at first rumble25, Trotter could still wind up buried alive, but alive only briefly26, sharing his grave with an ark’s worth of crushed and smothered27 wildlife.
Corky loved southern California.
Not yet crushed and smothered, Trotter waited for his visitor on the veranda28. If at all possible, he hoped to keep Corky out of the house.
On one of his previous visits, deeply into his role as a rogue29 government agent who used the United States Constitution as toilet paper, Corky had misbehaved. He had shown no respect for Trotter’s property rights. He had been a brute30.
On this twenty-second day of December, Corky didn’t find himself to be mellowed31 out by holiday good will. He was a punk-mean elf.
Although he parked ten steps from the veranda, he didn’t hurry through the downpour because Robin Goodfellow, too cool for jackboots but wearing them in spirit, was not a man who noticed the weather when he was in a foul32 mood.
He climbed the three steps to the veranda, drew the Glock from his shoulder holster, and pressed the muzzle33 to Trotter’s forehead.
“Repeat what you told me on the phone.”
“Damn,” Trotter said nervously34. “You know it’s true.”
“It’s bullshit,” Corky said.
Trotter’s hair was as orange as that of the Cheshire Cat who had toyed with Alice in Wonderland. He had the pinned-wide, protuberant35 eyes of the Mad Hatter. His nose twitched36 nervously, reminiscent of the White Rabbit. His bloated face and his huge mustache recalled the famous Walrus37, and he was in general as brillig, slithy, and mimsy as numerous of Lewis Carroll’s characters rolled into one.
“For God’s sake, Goodfellow,” Trotter all but blubbered, “the storm, [421] the storm! We can’t do the job in this. It’s impossible in weather like this.”
Still pressing the Glock to Trotter’s forehead, Corky said, “The storm will break by six o’clock. The wind will die completely. We’ll have ideal conditions.”
“Yeah, they’re saying it might break, but what do they know? Do any of their predictions ever turn out right?”
“I’m not relying on the TV weathermen, you cretin. I’m relying on supersecret Defense38 Department satellites that not only study the planet’s weather patterns but control them with microwave energy pulses. We will make the storm end when we need it to end.”
This crackpot assertion played well with the paranoid Trotter, whose pinned-wide eyes stretched even wider. “Weather control,” he whispered shakily. “Hurricanes, tornadoes39, blizzards40, droughts—an untraceable weapon as terrible as nuclear bombs.”
In reality, Corky was counting on nothing more than chaos41 to be his ally, to bring the storm to an end when he needed calm skies.
Chaos never failed him.
“Rain or no rain, wind or no wind,” he told Trotter, “you will be in Bel Air, at the rendezvous42 point, at seven o’clock sharp, as originally planned.”
“Weather control,” Trotter muttered darkly.
“Don’t even think about not coming. Do you know how many eyes are on us right now—up in those hills, out in those fields?”
“Lots of eyes,” Trotter guessed.
“My people are everywhere in this canyon, ready to keep you honest or blow your brains out, whichever you want.”
In fact, the only eyes on them were those of the crows, hawks43, sparrows, and other members of the feathered community gathered in the ancient California live oaks that sheltered the house.
Jack Trotter had fallen for these lies not because of the phony NSA credentials44, not because of Corky’s bravura45 performance as Agent [422] Robin Goodfellow, but because Corky had known so much about Trotter’s many aliases46 and at least a few things about his thus far successful career as a bank robber and a distributor of Ecstasy47. He believed that Corky had learned about him by means of the ruling cabal’s all but omniscient48 intelligence-gathering apparatus49.
What Corky had learned about Trotter, however, he had heard from Mick Sachatone, the hacker50 and multimillionaire anarchist51 who traded in forged documents, untraceable cell phones, and other illegal paperwork, objects, substances, and information. Mick had provided Trotter with the identities that subsequently he revealed to Corky.
Ordinarily, Mick would never disclose to one client the affairs of another. Considering the kind of people he did business with, such a lack of discretion52 would result, if he were lucky, in his death or, if he were unlucky, in the excision53 of his eyes, the extraction of his tongue, the severing54 of his thumbs, and castration with pliers.
Because Mick had reason to hate Trotter with an intensity55 nearly homicidal, he had risked sharing information with Corky. Jealous rage of operatic proportions had caused him to violate his usual standards of client confidentiality56.
For his part, Trotter had earned Mick’s enmity, though he seemed unaware57 of it. He had stolen Mick’s girlfriend.
Mick’s girlfriend had been a porn-movie star renowned58 in certain jerky circles for the inhuman59 flexibility60 of her body.
Perhaps Trotter didn’t think that anyone could become profoundly emotionally attached, on evenings and weekends, to a woman who did two, six, and even ten men at a time in front of a camera, during her regular business hours.
Since the age of thirteen, however, Mick’s most cherished dream had been to have a porn star for a girlfriend. He felt that Trotter had robbed him of his heart’s one true desire and had thwarted61 his destiny.
After four months with Trotter, the woman had disappeared. Mick was of the opinion that, having tired of her, Trotter had killed her [423] either because she had learned too much about his illegal activities or merely for sport, and had buried her deep in the canyon.
Now she was of no use to anyone, and this pointless waste of her exceptional flexibility further infuriated Mick.
Lowering the Glock from Trotter’s forehead, Corky said, “Let’s go inside.”
“Please, let’s not,” Trotter pleaded.
“Need I remind you,” Corky said, lying with delightful62 panache63, “that your cooperation with me could earn you erasure64 from all public records, from all tax records, making you the freest man who ever lived, a man utterly65 unknown to the government?”
“I’ll be there tonight. Seven o’clock sharp. Wind or no wind. I swear I will.”
“I still want to go inside,” Corky said. “I still feel the need to make my point with you.”
A sadness came into Trotter’s Mad Hatter eyes. His walruslike face drooped66.
Resigned, he led Corky into the house.
The bullet holes in the walls, from the previous occasion when Corky had needed to teach Trotter a lesson, had not been repaired; however, the living-room display shelves had been filled with a new collection of Lladro porcelains68—statuettes of ballerinas, princesses dancing with princes, children capering69 with a dog, a lovely farm maiden70 feeding a flock of geese gathered at her feet. ...
That a paranoid, conspiracy-drunk, bank-robbing, drug-peddling survivalist with bolt-holes leading from here to the Canadian border should have a weak spot for fragile porcelains didn’t surprise Corky. Regardless of how rough we may appear on the exterior71, each of us has a human heart.
Corky himself had a weakness for old Shirley Temple movies, in which he indulged once or twice a year. Without embarrassment72.
As Trotter watched, Corky emptied the 9-mm magazine, shattering one porcelain67 with every shot.
[424] In the months since he had unintentionally wounded Mina Reynerd in the foot, he had become remarkably73 proficient74 with handguns. Until recently, he’d never much wanted to use a firearm in the service of chaos, for it had seemed too cold, too impersonal75. But he was warming to the instrument.
He replaced the first magazine with a second and finished off the Lladro collection. The humid air was full of a chalky dust and the smell of gunfire.
“Seven o’clock,” he said.
“I’ll be there,” said the chastened Trotter.
“Gonna take a magic carpet ride.”
After replacing the second magazine with a third, Corky slipped the Glock into his shoulder holster and walked out to the veranda.
He proceeded slowly through the rain to the Land Rover, boldly turning his back to the house.
He drove down out of the Malibu canyons toward the coast.
The sky was an open beaker, pouring forth76 not rain but the universal solvent77 for which medieval alchemists had sought in vain. All around him, the hills were melting. The lowlands were dissolving. The edge of the continent deliquesced into the tumultuous sea.
收听单词发音 |
1
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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fabulously
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| 难以置信地，惊人地 | |
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founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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cabal
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| n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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dictatorial
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| adj. 独裁的，专断的 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bureaucrats
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| n.官僚( bureaucrat的名词复数 )；官僚主义；官僚主义者；官僚语言 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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sprint
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| n.短距离赛跑；vi. 奋力而跑，冲刺；vt.全速跑过 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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protuberant
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| adj.突出的，隆起的 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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walrus
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| n.海象 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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tornadoes
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| n.龙卷风，旋风( tornado的名词复数 ) | |
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blizzards
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| 暴风雪( blizzard的名词复数 )； 暴风雪似的一阵，大量（或大批） | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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bravura
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| n.华美的乐曲；勇敢大胆的表现；adj.壮勇华丽的 | |
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46
aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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omniscient
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| adj.无所不知的；博识的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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50
hacker
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| n.能盗用或偷改电脑中信息的人，电脑黑客 | |
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anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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52
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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53
excision
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| n.删掉；除去 | |
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54
severing
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的现在分词 )；断，裂 | |
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55
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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56
confidentiality
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| n.秘而不宣，保密 | |
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57
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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59
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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61
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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62
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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panache
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| n.羽饰；假威风，炫耀 | |
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erasure
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| n.擦掉，删去；删掉的词；消音；抹音 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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porcelains
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| n.瓷，瓷器( porcelain的名词复数 ) | |
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capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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71
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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proficient
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| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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solvent
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| n.溶剂；adj.有偿付能力的 | |
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