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！
d it； though he doubted if more than three people in the entire synod could spell the word； much less grasp an inkling of its actual intent。
Transubstantiation was really quite the little miracle： the mystical transformation of flour and grape juice into not just symbols of the Eucharist； but the actual flesh and blood itself。 Eternal Life； breathed into inanimate glop by the kiss of God。 Kinda like the ultimate parlor trick。
There was something perversely cannibalistic about the whole thing； too； but then； what did you expect from the world's most successful； longest…running blood cult？
What the hell； Blake mused； nodding and smiling as the parishioners filed past。 Name of the game。 Keeps 'em in' back for more。
Werner Blake was a dapper； distinguished man； in his fifties and his prime。 He was head of the Paradise Industrial Development Authority； pointman for Paradise Emergency Management Agency； general solid citizen； and all…around pillar of the munity。 He was directly responsible for courting out…of…state industry to move into the area； thus bringing jobs and opportunity to thousands across the county。 His connections were many。 He belonged to the Chamber of merce and the Jaycees； had a wife and son and a house in Wyndham Hills； and kept a sophomore ski bunny in a condo at Cedar Village。 He played tennis for fitness； piloted light aircraft and skied for fun。 He ate well； drank in moderation； and slept soundly at night。
And every Sunday…without fail…he donned the wool and grazed with the flock； holding his wife's hand and staring with clear…eyed purpose into the vaulted chapel arches。 That he looked at the huge suspended cross and saw only sticks and brass and plaster mattered not at all。
Because they saw something。 They believed it； even if they didn't see it。 And even if they didn't see it or believe it； they came anyway。 That was the real beauty of the game。 They came for the same reasons they believed。
Because they were supposed to。
Nodding and smiling； as the parishioners filed past 。。。
There was power here； Werner knew； in all that blind faith and obedience。 It could be harnessed； like any other natural resource。 To Blake's way of thinking； that's what it was there for。 And Trinity Lutheran was a money congregation； a fount for the local Brahmins； which meant that seeds planted on Sunday often bore fruit before the end of business Friday next。
That was miracle enough for him。
Still； by the end of services； Werner Blake had probed the outer limits of his civility。 You could only graze so long with sheep； after all； before the clothing became oppressive； the smile a bit cramped and the eyes a bit too hard。
So when Leonard leaned over from the next pew back； Blake almost weled the diversion。
〃Mornin〃； Harry；〃 he whispered。 〃What's up？〃
〃Well； uh；〃 Harold began and then stalled； eyes searching the shadows in the far ers of the chapel。 Up close now； Blake could smell the tang of his sweat。
〃Is there a problem？〃 Blake's psyche clicked calmly over to yellow alert。
〃I think so。 Yes。〃 Leonard exhaled hard。
〃Can it wait？〃
A moment of silence。
〃Okay。〃 Blake leaned over； bussed his wife lightly on the cheek。 〃Excuse us；〃 he whispered。 Carol Blake was attractive； raven…haired and tight； well maintained； thirty…nine and holding。 She nodded； disinterested； as Blake slid by。 The space next to her that was for their son was conspicuously empty； Blake eased past it and into the aisle with a little grin that was polished and carefully maintained。
Then Blake was up and moving against the worshipful tide； nodding and smiling as he met the gaze of all those eyes； the many faces of the flock； nodding and smiling and slipping through them with practiced grace and predatory ease。
He didn't look behind to see if Leonard was following。 Of course Leonard was following。 What else could Leonards do？ You rose or fell by your own merits； your own intrinsic worth。
Blake knew what Leonard was made of。 Food。 But it wasn't as simple as that。 If there was a problem； and Leonard could help； it would be best to hear him out。
In private。
〃Now；〃 Blake said。 The chapel burst into muted song。 It was quiet in the pastor's office； and nobody else was there。 〃You were saying。〃
〃I got a phone call this morning。〃 Leonard dry…swallowed as he spoke。 〃From a man I； um； subcontract。〃
Blake nodded。
〃And； um； he told me that an accident or something happened。〃
Blake waited。
〃This morning。〃 Blake's silences were frightening。 Leonard picked up his pace。 〃It was something about a truck。 These people 。。。 uh； their boys； they were disposing of some substances 。。。 〃
〃What kind of substances？〃
〃Um 。。。 〃 Beat。 〃Not very good substances。〃 Leonard let out a short hack of laughter； as if it were funny。 〃They were disposing of some waste…some overstock…when evidently something went wrong。〃
〃What kind of waste 。。。 ？〃
〃Christ； Werner！ I'm not exactly sure！ It's all pretty bad； okay？〃 Leonard's face flushed red； and for one split second； it occurred to him that he'd just taken his life in his hands and held it up like a bull's…eye on a stick。
The Blake made a sympathetic face； and Leonard resumed。
〃You know we handle a lot of stuff。〃 He sighed。 Blake nodded； encouraging。 〃Most of it is pretty benign； but none of it is meant for public consumption。 The point is； these guys told me that they've been disposing of it in a responsible fashion； but then today I get a phone call 。。。 〃
Blake was absolutely motionless； watching。
〃 。。。 telling me that these guys have been dumping 。。。 Christ； I don't know bow to say this 。。。 〃
〃Just say it。〃
〃Christ！〃 Oily beads of perspiration welled on his fore head； made armpit…inkblot configurations that met in the middle of his back。 〃They were dumping straight into the Codorus Creek； okay？ Straight into the Codorus； which runs straight into the Susquehanna River； which runs straight into God knows where！〃
〃Calm down。〃 Blake said it as much to himself as to Leonard。 He was running the facts through his mind。
〃I'm trying to be calm； but frankly； this is scaring me out of my wits！〃 Leonard railed； hearing himself lose control and trying to stop it and watching it go。 〃One boy is dead already 。。。 〃
〃Ah。〃 The ante burgeoned。 Blake brought a finger up； touched it to pursed lips。
〃 。。。 and another boy is all messed up； I think he might be poisoned or something 。。。 〃
〃Okay。〃 Blake withdrew his finger； made a pacifying gesture that he aimed at Leonard。 〃Are those the only two involved？〃
Leonard stammered； his word flow unexpectedly dammed。 〃I 。。。 I think so。 Yes。 Except for their father。 Well； one of their fathers 。。。 〃
〃And he is？〃
〃His name's Pusser。 He runs a salvage yard outside of Hellam …〃
〃What I need；〃 Blake interrupted； 〃is precise information。 Names and addresses。 Do you know where the accident happened？〃
〃Have you ever heard of a place called Black Bridge？〃
〃No。 But I'm sure somebody has。 What I need from you〃…and on this he was emphatic； leaning into Leonard as if the fate of the entire universe were at stake…〃is specifics。 Every single thing you know。 In the order you know it。〃
He took a beat； looked into Leonard's eyes； made sure that he'd connected。 He had。 〃We can manage this situation；〃 he said。 〃There's nothing that we can't manage。 As long as we act now； and nothing else goes wrong； we're fine。 Remember that。〃
Leonard looked honestly relieved。 For the first time； he met Blake's gaze pletely。 Blake saw gratitude there。
But most important； he saw faith。
〃You did the right thing in ing to me；〃 Blake said。 〃Thanks。〃
〃Hey； no problem。〃 Leonard nearly blushed。
〃Just get it all down on paper for me。〃
〃Right now？〃
〃No time like the present。〃
Leonard nodded and opened a drawer on the pastor's desk； found a notepad。 As he scribbled； Blake turned away； hard…weighing the possibilities。 The worst thing that could possibly happen was a whiff of this hitting the public air。
On the other hand； there was nothing that couldn't be handled under cover of darkness。
Nothing at all。
〃And； Harry？〃 he said； almost as an afterthought。 〃Not a word of this to anybody； right？〃
〃Of course not！ Christ！〃 Leonard told him。
Of course not。
Another article of faith 。。。
Eight
The first shots came high and sharp； like blown…up paper bags detonating in the distance。 The sound was not lost on the ever…vigilant ears of Bernard S。 Kleigel： the Conscience of a Nation。 It filtered up out of the woods at him as he burned the goddam backyard leaves。 And boy…oh…boy did it tick him off。
〃God dammit； Billy！ Stand still！〃 he hissed； straining to hear more。 At the ready pile； his five…year…old froze： a miniature Michelin rubber boy； body dwarfed in his overstuffed Osh…Kosh jumper。 Billy was no fool。 One whiff of Dad's voice and it was lay…low time in the leaf pile。
Two more shots rang out。 Small…calibre； twenty…twos。 Bernie twisted the rake handle so hard it bowed； veins in his temples throbbing。 One word sprang…neon； glowing…into his mind。
Kid