The English Patient- 第30部分

he　passes　the　scarecrow　for　hana’s　garden；　the　crucifix　with　its　hanging　sardine　cans；　and　moves　uphill　towards　the　villa。　he　cups　the　hand　held　in　front　of　him　with　the　other　as　if　protecting　the　flame　of　a　candle。　hana　meets　him　on　the　terrace；　and　he　takes　her　hand　and　holds　it　against　his。　the　ladybird　circling　the　nail　on　his　small　finger　quickly　crosses　over　onto　her　wrist。　

she　turns　back　into　the　house。　now　her　hand　is　held　out　in　front　of　her。　she　walks　through　the　kitchen　and　up　the　stairs。　

the　patient　turns　to　face　her　as　she　es　in。　she　touches　his　foot　with　the　hand　that　holds　the　ladybird。　it　leaves　her；　moving　onto　the　dark　skin。　avoiding　the　sea　of　white　sheet；　it　begins　to　make　the　long　trek　towards　the　distance　of　the　rest　of　his　body；　a　bright　redness　against　what　seems　like　volcanic　flesh。　

in　the　library　the　fuze　box　is　in　midair；　nudged　off　the　counter　by　caravaggio　when　he　turned　to　hana’s　gleeful　yell　in　the　hall。　before　it　reaches　the　floor　kip’s　body　slides　underneath　it；　and　he　catches　it　in　his　hand。　

caravaggio　glances　down　to　see　the　young　man’s　face　blowing　out　all　the　air　quickly　through　his　cheeks。　

he　thinks　suddenly　he　owes　him　a　life。　

kip　begins　to　laugh；　losing　his　shyness　in　front　of　the　older　man；　holding　up　the　box　of　wires。　

caravaggio　will　remember　the　slide。　he　could　walk　away；　never　see　him　again；　and　he　would　never　forget　him。　years　from　now　on　a　toronto　street　caravaggio　will　get　out　of　a　taxi　and　hold　the　door　open　for　an　east　indian　who　is　about　to　get　into　it；　and　he　will　think　of　kip　then。　

now　the　sapper　just　laughs　up　towards　caravaggio’s　face　and　up　past　that　towards　the　ceiling。　

“i　know　all　about　sarongs。”　caravaggio　waved　his　hand　towards　kip　and　hana　as　he　spoke。　“in　the　east　end　of　toronto　i　met　these　indians。　i　was　robbing　a　house　and　it　turned　out　to　belong　to　an　indian　family。　they　woke　from　their　beds　and　they　were　wearing　these　cloths；　sarongs；　to　sleep　in；　and　it　intrigued　me。　we　had　lots　to　talk　about　and　they　eventually　persuaded　me　to　try　it。　i　removed　my　clothes　and　stepped　into　one；　and　they　immediately　set　upon　me　and　chased　me　half　naked　into　the　night。”　“is　that　a　true　story？”　she　grinned。　

“one　of　many！”　she　knew　enough　about　him　to　almost　believe　it。　caravaggio　was　constantly　diverted　by　the　human　element　during　burglar…ies。　breaking　into　a　house　during　christmas；　he　would　bee　annoyed　if　he　noticed　the　advent　calendar　had　not　been　opened　up　to　the　date　to　which　it　should　have　been。　he　often　had　conversations　with　the　various　pets　left　alone　in　houses；　rhetorically　discussing　meals　with　them；　feeding　them　large　helpings；　and　was　often　greeted　by　them　with　considerable　pleasure　if　he　returned　to　the　scene　of　a　crime。　

she　walks　in　front　of　the　shelves　in　the　library；　eyes　closed；　and　at　random　pulls　out　a　book。　she　finds　a　clearing　between　two　sections　in　a　book　of　poetry　and　begins　to　write　there。　

he　says　lahore　is　an　ancient　city。　london　is　a　recent　town　pared　with　lahore。　i　say；　well；　　e　from　an　even　newer　country。　he　says　they　have　always　known　about　gunpowder。　as　far　back　as　the　seventeenth　century；　court　paintings　recorded　fireworks　displays。　

he　is　small；　not　much　taller　than　i　am。　an　intimate　smile　up　close　that　can　charm　anything　when　he　displays　it。　a　toughness　to　his　nature　he　doesn’t　show。　the　englishman　says　he’s　one　of　those　warrior　saints。　but　he　has　a　peculiar　sense　of　humour　that　is　more　rambunctious　than　his　manner　suggests。　remember　“i’ll　rewire　him　in　the　morning。”　ooh　la　la！　he　says　lahore　has　thirteen　gates—named　for　saints　and　emperors　or　where　they　lead　to。　

the　word　bungalow　es　from　bengali。　

at　four　in　the　afternoon　they　had　lowered　kip　into　the　pit　in　a　harness　until　he　was　waist…deep　in　the　muddy　water；　his　body　draped　around　the　body　of　the　esau　bomb。　the　casing　from　fin　to　tip　ten　feet　high；　its　nose　sunk　into　the　mud　by　his　feet。　

beneath　the　brown　water　his　thighs　braced　the　metal　casing；　much　the　way　he　had　seen　soldiers　holding　women　in　the　corner　of　naafi　dance　floors。　when　his　arms　tired　he　hung　them　upon　the　wooden　struts　at　shoulder　level；　which　were　there　to　stop　mud　collapsing　in　around　him。　the　sappers　had　dug　the　pit　around　the　esau　and　set　up　the　wood…shaft　walls　before　he　had　arrived　on　the　site。　in　；　esau　bombs　with　a　new　y　fuze　had　started　ing　in；　this　was　his　second　one。　

it　was　decided　during　planning　sessions　that　the　only　way　around　the　new　fuze　was　to　immunize　it。　it　was　a　huge　bomb　in　ostrich　posture。　he　had　e　down　barefoot　and　he　was　already　sinking　slowly；　being　caught　within　the　clay；　unable　to　get　a　firm　hold　down　there　in　the　cold　water。　he　wasn’t　wearing　boots—they　would　have　locked　within　the　clay；　and　when　he　was　pulleyed　up　later　the　jerk　out　of　it　could　break　his　ankles。　

he　laid　his　left　cheek　against　the　metal　casing；　trying　to　think　himself　into　warmth；　concentrating　on　the　small　touch　of　sun　that　reached　down　into　the　twenty…foot　pit　and　fell　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　what　he　embraced　could　explode　at　any　moment；　whenever　tumblers　tremored；　whenever　the　gaine　was　fired。　there　was　no　magic　or　x　ray　that　would　tell　anyone　when　some　small　capsule　broke；　when　some　wire　would　stop　wavering。　those　small　mechanical　semaphores　were　like　a　heart　murmur　or　a　stroke　within　the　man　crossing　the　street　innocently　in　front　of　you。　

what　town　was　he　in？　he　couldn’t　even　remember。　he　heard　a　voice　and　looked　up。　hardy　passed　the　equipment　down　in　a　satchel　at　the　end　of　a　rope；　and　it　hung　there　while　kip　began　to　insert　the　various　clips　and　tools　into　the　many　pockets　of　his　tunic。　he　was　humming　the　song　hardy　had　been　singing　in　the　jeep　on　the　way　to　the　site—　　they’re　changing　guard　at　buckingham　palace—　　christopher　robin　went　down　with　mice。　

he　wiped　the　area　of　fuze　head　dry　and　began　moulding　a　clay　cup　around　it。　then　he　unstopped　the　jar　and　poured　the　liquid　oxygen　into　the　cup。　he　taped　the　cup　securely　onto　the　metal。　now　he　had　to　wait　again。　

there　was　so　little　space　between　him　and　the　bomb　he　could　feel　the　change　in　temperature　already。　if　he　were　on　dry　land　he　could　walk　away　and　be　back　in　ten　minutes。　now　he　had　to　stand　there　beside　the　bomb。　they　were　two　suspicious　creatures　in　an　enclosed　space。　captain　carlyle　had　been　working　in　a　shaft　with　frozen　oxygen　and　the　whole　pit　had　suddenly　burst　into　flames。　they　hauled　him　out　fast；　already　unconscious　in　his　harness。　

where　was　he？　lisson　grove？　old　kent　road？

kip　dipped　cotton　wool　into　the　muddy　water　and　touched　it　to　the　casing　about　twelve　inches　away　from　the　fuze。　it　fell　away；　so　it　meant　he　had　to　wait　longer。　when　the　cotton　wool　stuck；　it　meant　enough　of　the　area　around　the　fuze　was　frozen　and　he　could　go　on。　he　poured　more　oxygen　into　the　cup。　

the　growing　circle　of　frost　was　a　foot　in　radius　now。　a　few　more　minutes。　he　looked　at　the　clipping　someone　had　taped　onto　the　bomb。　they　had　read　it　with　much　laugh…　ter　that　morning　in　the　update　kit　sent　to　all　bomb　disposal　units。　

when　is　explosion　reasonably　permissible？

if　a　man’s　life　could　be　capitalized　as　x；　the　risk　at　y；　and　the　estimated　damage　from　explosion　at　v；　then　a　logician　might　contend　that　if　v　is　less　than　x　over　y；　the　bomb　should　be　blown　up；　but　if　v　over　y　is　greater　than　x；　an　attempt　should　be　made　to　avoid　explosion　in　situ。　

who　wrote　such　things？

he　had　by　now　been　in　the　shaft　with　the　bomb　for　more　than　an　hour。　he　continued　feeding　in　the　liquid　oxygen。　at　shoulder　height；　just　to　his　right；　was　a　hose　pumping　down　normal　air　to　prevent　him　from　being　giddy　with　oxygen。　

（he　had　seen　soldiers　with　hangovers　use　the　oxygen　to　cure　headaches。）　he　tried　the　cotton　wool　again　and　this　time　it　froze　on。　

he　had　about　twenty　minutes。　after　that　the　battery　temperature　within　the　bomb　would　rise　again。　but　for　now　the　fuze　was　iced　up　and　he　could　begin　to　remove　it。　

he　ran　his　palms　up　and　down　the　bomb　case　to　detect　any　rips　in　the　metal。　the　submerged　section　would　be　safe；　but　oxygen　could　ignite　if　it　came　into　contact　with　exposed　explosive。　carlyle’s　flaw。　x　over　y。　if　there　were　rips　they　would　have　to　use　liquid　nitrogen。　

“it’s　a　two…thousand…pound　bomb；　sir。　esau。”　hardy’s　voice　from　the　top　of　the　mud　pit。　

“type…marked　fifty；　in　a　circle；　b。　two　fuze　pockets；　most　likely。　but　we　think　the　second　one　is　probably　not　armed。　

okay？”　they　had　discussed　all　this　with　each　other　before；　but　things　were　being　confirmed；　remembered　for　the　final　time。　

“put　me　on　a　microphone　now　and　get　back。”　“okay；　sir。”kip　smiled。　he　was　ten　years　younger　than　hardy；　and　no　englishman；　but　hardy　was　happiest　in　the　cocoon　of　regimental　discipline。　there　was　always　hesitation　by　the　soldiers　to　call　him　“sir；”　but　hardy　barked　it　out　loud　and　enthusiastically。　

he　was　working　fast　now　to　prise　out　the　fuze；　all　the　batteries　inert。　

“can　you　hear　me？　whistle。。。。　okay；　i　heard　it。　a　last　topping　up　with　oxygen。　will　let　it　bubble　for　thirty　seconds。　then　start。　freshen　the　frost。　okay；　i’m　going　to　remove　the　dam；。。。　okay；　dam　gone。”　hardy　was　listening　to　everything　and　recording　it　in　case　something　went　wrong。