Chapter 16 Chapter fifteen

Immediately after Shafnov left, I called Mi Rui.Of course, she was outside as usual and her phone was turned off.In over twenty years, I have never had the first contact with her, so I had to listen to her slightly crazy message first.Why?The reason is that no one but the three of us should know Dad.It's ridiculous, but it's true, and I find it kind of scary. About ten o'clock the next morning, I got a call from someone who claimed to be Donna.Quesetti's woman's phone.She told me that she made the call on behalf of her brother Albert and asked about the ancient documents that the deceased Buscher had illegally taken.I told her that the documents, whether obtained illegally or not, were open to her and that I would be happy to meet with her or Albert to discuss the matter.I also wondered how weird it was for a lawyer to represent her own family members, and where she suggested meeting, which was a house in Queens rather than a law firm.When we had everything sorted out, I called back her number and was amazed to find she was calling from the legal aid office.This is yet another proof of how crazy I was, because my sanity would never allow me to agree to this meeting.

At the same time, my laptop was useless at all, as I was now out of the office routine, and my original appointments with clients were canceled indefinitely, although it turned out that this arrangement seemed to be completely useless.People working under high pressure are often advised to take time off work, but sometimes the stress is what keeps them alive.Everyone knows that ancient biplanes were basically bound by rubber bands and large bundles of cables to fly in mid-air, and once these restraints were removed, they would fall down.So, now I am so idle that I panic, and my thoughts start to waver, or block.I'm pacing back and forth, twirling the remote, looking out the window at the pigeons, and the coronary embolism ensues

For a moment it felt like that, but it was actually the beginning of a panic attack: shortness of breath, night sweats, tingling in my arms, like getting a mild dyskinesia.Then my cell phone rang and I reached out and grabbed it like driftwood in the sea.It was the driver Omar who called and asked me if I wanted to go out today.I actually really wanted to go out, I had a bunch of friends and acquaintances in town, but after I got fired for misconduct, the only person I was going to visit was my wife.So I groomed myself, changed into casual clothes, checked myself for signs of decadence, and sure enough, I found a lot of signs of decadence.I took my anti-anxiety pills so I wouldn't worry too much about this shit, and then I went uptown with Omar.Stupid enough!I keep forgetting how much my wife knows me.

I guess I should say that Emmarie has a small office in our house in town and runs a financial newsletter.You may be misunderstood by saying this, but she actually has a formal office on Bollord Street, where many people work for her; in addition, there are other branches around the world, located in the most influential financial institutions in the world. several time zones.My wife tries not to go to these offices as much as possible, because she prefers to be a simple housewife and mother, and has a hobby that can make money, as if she is knitting table mats, rather than running a multi-million dollar business. enterprises.I've been told it's a bit of a joke in the financial district, but it turns out that after a while, a financial information distribution empire can run itself, and the onus is on the founders to try and stay out of it.Do not believe?Go ask New York Mayor Mike.Bloomberg it.

So I have every reason to believe that Emmarie has time to talk to me and heal my soul.But when I got to her house, Emma was in a meeting with a colleague.The housekeeper asked me to wait for her in the living room. I waited and smoked, tense, and it felt like hours had passed, but my usual watch showed less than forty minutes.Then I heard voices in the aisle, and I saw Emma and her trio emerge, looking at me curiously as if they were browsing an exhibit (my own imagination): sneaky, unemployed ex-husbands.As for Emmale herself, she wasn't surprised to see me, but she didn't introduce me to them, she just kept them classy and took them outside.

After she came back I asked her: Formal meeting?I lower my voice. yes, she said.Jack, what's the matter? I try to tell the law firm's story in the saddest and self-blinking way I can.I sat on her leather couch (which used to be mine too) and she reclined in the chair opposite me, but I left out the horrible Russians from the night before. Poor Jack, here's her reaction after I finished saying: what are you going to do? No idea, take a moment to think about my life, maybe I'll go find this lost Shakespeare play. Oops, don't joke about that. Why?I said, what's the big deal?

Big deal?Someone has already been killed for something like this, you said.And my kids have to be protected by Paul's gang, I can't live with that, Jack.I already told Paul, thanks, but please don't do it. So, no one is watching the kids now? She must have sensed some unconscious look on my face, so she added, a little harder, or so you want me to think.Do you have any other questions? No.I said, of course not, they've taken the original letter, that's all I have, and it's over. She looked at me like she was waiting for something, and finally I said: What? It's okay, I have nothing to say, you came to my side.

I thought we could talk.I said. talk about what?Want to talk about your new woman? There are no new women. That really surprised me.Listen, I have a problem with you, a very bad and shameful problem, because you lied; and those women outside of you, one of them made you lose your job, and you come back to me. What do you want ?Should I know?punish?Am I supposed to be like the lady in the cartoon, standing on tiptoe, crossing my hands, holding a rolling pin?Still want to accept you?for what?Because when you're happy, you're in heat like a mongrel, and then should I hang a lamp in the window and wait for you?

I also forgot how I answered, forgot whether I asked this suffering woman for something, probably hoping that our past would be erased and the record clean.I think I did humbly ask her, in her Christian spirit, to forgive me.Does she think I'm not good enough to be forgiven?In response to this question, she said that I knew very well that without remorse, there would be no forgiveness, and that I had never repented at all.She stopped talking after that and just screamed that I was doing it all over again and made her feel like a goddamn hypocrite and a church Sunday school teacher and that I wasn't going to teach my husband morals, he Should have understood it long ago.

When Emma and I first started dating, she told me that when she was thirteen she found out that Daddy Dear had another family on the other side of the Mont Blanc tunnel, a mistress and two daughters.In a high-class, well-bred family, her parents hadn't divorced and just continued to be trapped in a slow, uninterrupted hell of torment, silent dinners and separate rooms, with the kids being sent to boarding schools.Emily fears marital infidelity ever since, which is why she flees refined, decadent Europe for the embrace of American Puritans.We're fat, stupid, and less cultured, but American men may not be hypocritical about their marriage commitment.So she married me.

Then she changed the subject and told me that the group that had just come to the meeting from the Dow Jones Organization had been negotiating for some time for the Mishkin Arbitrage Report, and that Emma had now agreed to sell it for an astonishing price.She's about to sell her New York house and move back to Zurich; her mother is lonely and depressed, and it's good for her to keep her busy with a few grandchildren.Emma hates my country, she doesn't want to raise her children in this Christian fascist empire.When she first flew across the ocean to free America, she didn't expect to pay such a price, and she wanted to give all her time to charity in the most deprived areas of the world.I vaguely hinted at her: what about me? When someone you once loved looks at you with pity, of course your heart aches, as Emmarie did to me.When I think about this, I should have understood that love is still alive in my heart, otherwise it would not be so painful.She lowered her eyes, as if embarrassed by what she was seeing, the stack of toilet paper she often kept in her cardigan pocket, and she pulled out a paper towel, dried her eyes, and sniffed her nose.I was kind of sneaky, thinking: Oh, she's crying, that's a good sign.I found myself begging her not to leave, that I would be different.She said she loves me, loves me forever, and hopes that she can be more obedient to me, but she can't. If I was determined to regain my sense of honor and return to marriage, she would have seen it.I went on to say: Now, right now, I have decided.She looked at me questioningly and said: No, Jack, I'm afraid you can't. That's true, because just a moment ago I was thinking that she might be swayed, but still thinking that maybe I could get Miranda back and clear up a little misunderstanding between us.Oh, I am really ashamed to record such insidious thoughts in my heart here.Forget it, it doesn't matter anyway. She saw me out in a rather ceremonial manner.Then what did I do?I arrived at the gym, and Arkady welcomed me with a warm handshake, a hug, and a fake look.God knows how Schaffnoff managed to get me back here, but what's clear is that the once-relaxed gym camaraderie is a thing of the past.Apparently Shavnov's words reached the ears of the other Russian weightlifters here, too, because I was treated like a prince and didn't have to wait for any benches or facilities!I lifted weights until I didn't want to, then took a scalding hot shower.Arcadia is famous for its hot water temperature, and there is even a warning sign on the machine. I wonder if it is possible to accidentally burn yourself to death because of this?Once I was as red as cooked meat, I turned the heat switch off completely and submerged in ice water until my teeth chattered and rattled. I put on my clothes and there was a call on my cell phone, it was my sister.After I called, I didn't say hello to her, so I asked her directly if she knew Osip.Shavnov knew our father.She said sure, they met in Israel, what's the problem? What's the problem?This fact fills me with a very strange sense of dread, like that of a child.You know you have to hide something from your parents, but not quite sure why, except that if they find out, they'll be pissed off, or worse, might take a part of your soul for themselves , It seems innocent to eat you up. Jack, what happened? Honestly, I don't remember exactly what I said to get her to ask, I must have been babbling for a while, it doesn't look like me at all.I chatted casually, and she must have noticed something was wrong before she wanted to chat with me. Nothing, I lied, Mi Rui, did you discuss that manuscript with anyone else?Shavnov?or dad? Which manuscript? You know, I told you that night, Shakespeare at Emmale's house, and the murder of a literature professor? I shouldn't have told anyone else.But you know, I'm not a very cautious person, I don't copy everything I say.how?Is that a big secret?No, don't put it there!Move to the piano! What are you talking about? At this time, she had already hung up the phone and let me deal with the aftermath by myself.My sister, with her big mouth, might have let the world know that her brother had found a key to a treasure, and she'd already told all her gangsters, including criminals who were doing business in the lower classes.Mi Rui never pays special attention to words and deeds, which means that Shafnov may have really told the truth: this city is full of Russian villains and others hired, and the people who attacked me may have nothing to do with the violent business sent by Shafnov There is a relationship, but there may be a relationship; it is possible that this is a huge conspiracy, watching, waiting, attacking.I was getting a little crazy, and my desperation was absurdly great, sitting half naked in that holly-smelling laundry room.I had a mobile phone in my hand, so I dialed Mickey almost without thinking.Haas's number, I left a message ordering him to contact me immediately.I probably sounded pretty crazy because he called me back twenty minutes later, while I was waiting on the side of the road for Omar to pick me up in his car. Meet for lunch?I'll say it right after the call is connected. You're just calling to ask me out to lunch?You sound like a fire has been burned to the ass. It was a hysterical lunch date call, I was being hunted by unknown Russian thugs and I really had to talk to someone. All right.I had an appointment with a publisher, but I can cancel.Did you send Omar to fetch me? We go to new places.Bad guys are sure to spy on my hangouts. We headed to Mickey's favorite Sichuan Garden restaurant on Ninety-sixth Street, dimly lit, on the second floor of the business district.I sat with my back against a mirrored wall and could see the entrance.To heighten my alertness, I ordered a martini. He wanted to lighten up the atmosphere when we ordered, so you think big Marxism is hunting you? Not funny, man.I said, my life shouldn't be like this. Yes, your life is supposed to be one long, boring day at the office, doing jobs you don't particularly enjoy, that are designed to turn some creative behavior into a commodity, and then slogging through women during overtime , seek romance to fill the emotional gap, even though you found your perfect partner years ago.This dreadful cycle will not end until you find some reliable woman who, for the sake of money, will take care of you when you are dying and sort out your belongings. Thank you so much for being so supportive, Mitch.I'm going to say it as coldly as I can, and, fuck you asshole. But now, instead of being angry, he went on saying that you are living a truly human life, where every minute counts, is full of danger and excitement.You could say it's a Shakespearean life, a life as worthwhile as Brace Godou's.You want to go back to school like Hamlet and join a fraternity?Getting drunk, partying, getting a second in philosophy? Isn't he going to die at the end of the drama? He's dead, but aren't we all going to die?The choice you have to make is how to live through the first five acts.Speaking of spine-chilling thrills, have you ever read anything more thrilling than Brace Godou's original letters? No, and I don't want to.I growled.I've always been very honest with Mitch, and I don't need his sympathy, and I don't care if he thinks I'm in danger. I don't want to have anything to do with Brace Grace. I just hope that the Russian gangsters, Or whoever is chasing the cipher letter, get the hell out of me.And you?Since I last saw you, have you seen through the secrets of those mysterious manuscripts? No, and I don't want to.He took my word for it, giving that stuff to a scholar is like giving a picture of roast beef to a hungry man, and it will make him drool but not nourish.I think I told you that without the original copy of Shakespeare’s script, the script itself is useless at all. Don’t care about the legendary letter left by the kid in charge of monitoring Shakespeare. I can get a highly reliable Shakespeare in one afternoon. A facsimile of Weng's diary, which answers all the questions that have troubled scholars for many years.What did you just say about Russian gangsters? Now all the events are suddenly on the table Miranda, Emma, ​​the Russians, the law firm, everything.Mickey lifts his juicy beef-wrapped soba noodles into the air with chopsticks.I ran out of words, so I asked him for advice, and implied that he didn't have to tell me that I was ruined because I already knew that fact. He said: Do you want to find Kid Quesetti and his decoded letter? Yes, but the people on Quesetti's side will think that I am going to negotiate with them, that I am going to return the documents that Buscher cheated from him.In fact, when I was talking with them, I had no bargaining chips other than money. Well, talking about money has a lot of appeal for me.Also, how will you live in the future?Are you really going to be disbarred as a lawyer? Maybe.If Bustrow's heir in England sues me, it's over for me.That's clear. You should go see him. See Bustrow's heir?I can't do it! why are you not going?Go talk to him, explain the whole thing clearly from beginning to end, snot and cry in front of him, beat your chest and feet, pretend to be pitiful, and beg him to forgive you.Do you know where your lawyer's problems are?Sometimes, when you try your best to follow the law perfectly, you forget how to talk to ordinary people.What can that heir do to you?Calling you an asshole?You already knew you were an asshole.Maybe you can get something out of the heir, you know, about that kind of thing.Perhaps Booth was very trusting of this sexual partner during his lifetime.Regardless, you'll have a great time talking, and you'll probably be the last to see his boyfriend alive, and maybe he'll be grateful for the meeting.Then you can return Boothrow's personal property to that heir, and then you tell him that the person who is grateful should be yourself.You've made so many mistakes before, it's definitely a friendly gesture to do this now. Yes, Mickey was definitely the first person to tell me I should go to England to find Oliver.Mr. Ma District talk.After dinner that day, I drove Mickey back to campus. I wasn't sure if I should go, but what happened next changed the situation completely.I felt slightly better after lunch that day because I downed three martinis in one sitting at the restaurant bar, something I would never do before. How I spent the rest of the afternoon was a little blurry, and I seemed to discuss marriage with Omar, and I asked him about the customs of the Islamic sect: Is it easier to be faithful if you have two or three mistresses?I don't remember how he answered.When I got home, I drank scotch after scotch and went to take a nap.When he was sleeping soundly, he was woken up by the ringing of the phone, and a voice came from the microphone: You bastard!I just woke up, it was my brother who hit me. Apparently he'd already spoken to Emmarie and Miri.He heard the full story from them while I was eating and sleeping, so he called to offer his personal opinion on my recent behaviour.After he yelled for a while, I replied: Are you done?that's all?I have an appointment in twenty minutes, and this time I'm going to recruit child prostitutes. He ignored me and continued talking. Does it matter what he said?I was clouded by the alcohol and had dreams about Scotland that I had no recollection of.I seem to have mentioned Emma to my brother, because she asked my brother to stop sending someone to stand guard outside her house, and she was leaving the United States soon.When I talk to him, I'm probably as rude as I would be with him, because I can never forgive him for turning out to be a better person than me, and I hate it when my family calls me out for the mistakes I made I.I probably asked him about Dad, and I wondered if Dad had anything to do with Shavnov and the business.He told me he didn't know either, but it was possible because it was an illegal operation.I asked, what kind of illegal activities? Of course it's the Shakespeare business, you fool, he said.The whole thing was a hoax, and it stinks of fraud: secret documents of indistinguishable authenticity, now-lost, priceless treasures, that idiot Boothrow, a false heir, and so on.Now that a bunch of nasty gangsters are getting scammed, the smartest thing to do is to get out and let the word out that I'm done.I seemed to be begging him to tell Emmay not to go.But I also forgot.Like I said, I'm hazy. What happened that evening was clear enough to be terrifying, in sharp contrast to what happened during the day.I woke up with a churning stomach, as it always does after drinking too much during the day, so I had some hard boiled eggs with toast and some tea.Around six o'clock, Omar drove me to this shitty part of Queens, stopped at Ozon Park, and was going to meet the Quesetti family.It was dark when we reached the street, a depressing cluster of cottages with chain-link fences in the front yards and photographs of Madonna in the background.I'm mentally prepared that I don't think I'll like the residents here. I rang the bell and a thin woman answered.She had Irish lips, curly tawny hair, a black cotton crew-neck sweater and distressed blue jeans, and a freckled face that looked kindly, but her piercing blue eyes Doesn't look like a good cheat.I'll introduce myself and shake hands with her, her name is Mary Peg.Quesetti is the mother of the Quesetti family.The decor in the living room is old and clean, a typical middle-class house, it looks like my childhood home, but their house cleaning style is different from my mother, there is no smell of furniture varnish or bleach, but it is Filled with a strong smell of alcohol.Albert.Quesetti was a well-developed, medium-sized fellow with an honest, cheerful face and large, dark eyes that seemed to want to be alert.The sister who is a lawyer is just the opposite. She is of the same race as me: bright, cold, and killer, but beautiful and slender; she has bright red hair tied into a schoolgirl's ponytail, her face Fewer freckles than her mother's. My charms usually don't do much for this kind of girl.The family's father, who had apparently been a police officer, was pictured hanging in the living room, looking down on us in a forbidding way. After a while of pleasantries, I finished my story and learned about their situation. I understood that they had encrypted letters, but they could not be deciphered.Then we talked about Caroline.Luo Li is the woman who sold the manuscript to Bustrow together with Quesetti.In this incident, Luo Li should have played a key role.I was about to ask them if they were going to try to find out what happened to Lori when the villains showed up. I believe I have said before that I am not a rough person and have spent most of my military career caring for the wounded, so you can't just assume I'm an ordinary coward just because of what happened next.First I heard a noise in the street, at first I couldn't make out it was a gunshot, I thought it was fireworks, but everyone in the Quesetti family stood up, little Quesetti looked out the window, Mrs Quesetti picked up the wireless Call the police.I yelled: what happened?No one answered.The next thing the glass shatters, the three men run into the living room.Here I want to emphasize that the living room in their house is not big. I recognized them immediately as the same men who had attacked me on the street outside my house earlier, a large man, an average man, and a third, all armed with guns.I heard shouts, but not the woman's scream.In my impression, those villains seemed to tell us to stop, but the Quesetti family didn't move.The part I do remember is this average guy walking up to me with the gun up and making a gesture to hit me over the head with the butt of it.I guess he was trying to get revenge on me for fighting them earlier.But this time it made me breathe a sigh of relief, because his behavior just shows that they are amateurs. As soon as I got hold of the gun, I grabbed his wrist and twisted the gun the other way.When he saw me like this, he had a surprised expression on his face, because although he often saw scenes of beating people with the butt of a pistol in movies, the movies didn't teach him what to do if someone snatched the gun.My brother Paul once told me that if you want to hurt someone and you happen to have a gun in your hand, you should shoot it, which is why the gun is loaded; The thing is quite delicate, and it is not suitable for smashing hard human heads. At this moment, the big man rushed over, snatched the phone from Ms. Quesetti, grabbed her neck, pointed a gun at her temple, and yelled something.But I couldn't understand what he was saying because of his strong accent and being extremely angry.A third man was standing by the living room door, pointing his gun at the living room, also yelling.When he saw that I took his accomplice's gun, he immediately shot me. Fortunately, his accomplice's body blocked his shooting angle and missed.Now it was my turn to take a shooting stance with the gun and take a step back to face the man holding Ms. Quesetti. He was very loud and told me to drop the gun or he would shoot her dead.To emphasize his threat, he pressed the barrel of the gun to her head.It's yet another trick that movie buffs pick up on the big screen, completely ignoring the basics of how to use a weapon.In fact, the gunman should keep a little distance from the victim, so that the gunman can shoot smoothly without worrying about the victim retaliation.Fortunately, Ms. Quesetti knew the difference between the movie and reality. She pushed away the gun that the man had placed on her forehead. When the gun fired, it missed and hit the ceiling without causing any damage.I was within four feet of him, so I shot him in the nose. The average-sized man grabbed me from behind and another shot rang out, and my captor screamed and walked away. It turned out that he bravely rushed to my back and grabbed me. Unexpectedly, the third person also wanted to shoot me at this time, so the ordinary person happened to be in the direction of the bullet and became the victim.He yelled in some foreign language (probably Russian) when he was hurt, and slumped down on the coffee table, crushing it.There was nothing between me and the third man at the moment, so I shot him twice in the chest, and he fell to the floor, bleeding profusely. By my estimate, forty-five seconds had passed since the first shot was fired.I can now picture myself standing there with a gun in my hand.The thug I snatched the gun from slowly stood up from the fragments of the coffee table, and stood hunched over, as if he had aged forty years in an instant.He looked at me, his feet dragged on the ground, and he stepped back. There was still a buzzing in my ears, and there seemed to be the sound of firing in the street.I guessed, I don't know what happened.I didn't intend to stop the villain from leaving. Seeing that I didn't move, he turned around and dragged himself away slowly.No one stopped him. I remember this quite clearly, seared it into my memory, and it has given me nightmares ever since, waking up in a sweat and remembering that I killed two people and that one shot me.But it's not a nightmare, I actually kill them.The experience is unique, but far from pleasant.It is actually not that easy to kill with a pistol, because the bullets are not that powerful unless they hit the heart or the head directly, or cause a lot of internal bleeding.A standard ninemm pistol, with a bullet that exits the muzzle with an energy of about three hundred and fifty pounds per square foot, is never fun to get hit by something like this, but it doesn't have to be fatal.This is why you sometimes see reports that the police shot forty shots at the bad guy, and the bad guy is still alive.The training of the police is that once the gun is fired, it must be fired until the target falls to the ground, which consumes a lot of ammunition.Rifle bullets are more powerful, so soldiers carry rifles into battle.The bullets of the 30 rifles have about three thousand pounds of energy per square foot, and I won't tell you how badly they were hit.But my brother knew it all too well during his illustrious military career. I am now standing amidst the smell of gunpowder, and the Quisetti children are busy helping their mother up on the sofa.She was covered in blood and bits of tissue from the head that had come out of the man I killed.I looked down at the other dead man, I shot him twice in the chest, he was dead, his eyes half open, his face pale and dull, bleeding profusely.The guy was good looking and looked to be in his late thirties.Why, I don't care what he looks like, and I don't care too much about his brains splattering all over Mrs. Quesetti's desk.I slowly moved to the window, opened the blinds, and saw a shootout going on in the street: one participant was an accomplice to the black SUV, and the other, someone I hadn't seen, was lying on the back of a car. There was return fire from the hood of the hearse, and another was my driver, Omar, shooting from the back of the Lincoln.I don't know why, I just don't want to care about it, it seems so far away from me.Only then did I notice that my knees were shaking so badly that I couldn't stand up anymore, so I fell into a chair and heard the siren of the police car in the distance, although at first I couldn't tell whether it was from my ears or not. Shock.I don't really remember what happened afterwards, maybe Ms. Quesetti asked me if I was okay. Then, out of nowhere, a bunch of yelling police officers came running into the house, with submachine guns, helmets, and black uniforms, exactly like the Nazi uniforms my grandfather wore. (Why are the American police dressed like the German SS? Why didn't anyone come out to protest? And no one came out to criticize those Nazi-like steel helmets. Where are those semioticians? They probably ran to speak ill of Shakespeare. ) The police pointed a gun at me, and I remembered that the pistol I used to kill was still on my lap, just like ladies put their purses on their lap in the opera house. They held me face down and handcuffed me, but they didn't arrest me, because the Commanding Operations Officer was a colleague of the deceased old Sergeant Quesetti, so he could listen to Ms. Queseetti's explanation.Miss Quesetti, that is, Donna, volunteered to be the defense attorney for me and the driver Omar; her other temporary client was the person driving the stretched hearse, named Klimt, a Polish decoding expert , is trying to crack our password letter, which I only learned later.Medical personnel also rushed to the scene and carried away the body, leaving shocking bloodstains on the scene.The police were at the scene to take testimony, and everyone took turns walking into the kitchen to answer the police's questions.The police seemed satisfied with my self-defense statement, and I was impressed with Mary Page's patronage in the NYPD.The only person arrested was the driver of the SUV downstairs, the wounded thug, who ran a few blocks and was apprehended. Finally the police finally left.The police believed that since two dead villains were found at the scene, they should completely blame the two villains for the shootout, and if other people were to be arrested at the scene, a deceased heroic policeman might be involved The widow and son, so just forget it.Looking at the dilapidated living room of her house, Mary Pegg felt sad and began to howl. I also cried with her, which was a bit embarrassing.Klimt hugged her with both hands and whispered in her ear; my driver Omar also hugged me and whispered in my ear.In hindsight, the sequence of the shootout on the street was fairly simple: Omar was waiting for me in the stretch Lincoln when the SUV pulled up and three armed men jumped out and ran into the house; Seeing it in the car, he immediately grabbed his gun and chased after him. Unexpectedly, the driver of the SUV fired at Omar at this time, and Omar hid behind the Lincoln limousine and shot back.At this moment the hearse arrives, and Klimt joins the shootout.It's remarkable how unhurt these three men were when they shot each other in the street.This also shows once again that if you really want to kill people, pistols are really useless. You can only play by luck, or by shooting at unarmed people at a very close distance. The cops left, we cried, and then we ordered pizza and sat at the kitchen table eating pizza and drinking wine, congratulating each other on our narrow escape.After all this, Donna was the first to leave.Quesetti, before she left, advised her two family members and clients not to tell the police too much.Mary Pegg and Albert.The mother and son Quesetti seemed to be a little more relaxed, and they became more comfortable in chatting or drinking.We also drank Irish coffee with a lot of whiskey in it.The events of the night receded a bit and I only burst into tears once, but luckily I slipped to the bathroom before this emotional outburst.These days, if you feel stressed after killing someone (whether for a legitimate reason or not), people say you're experiencing post-traumatic syndrome.In many countries, murder is considered a national sport, and people can kill without blinking an eye and without remorse.But I am different.我可能心裡一輩子都會有陰影。 無論如何，我從洗手間出來時，那群人都沒注意到我哭紅的眼睛。克林姆正在跟奎塞提爭辯，兩人的對話讓我覺得很有意思。那個波蘭人克林姆主張，既然這場暴力事件逐漸升溫，目前看來，唯一能夠阻止的方法就是追蹤布斯卓的腳步，看他是不是真的有找到什麼東西。如果他真的有找到任何東西，就把它奪過來。只要那個東西落在我們手上，然後我們把它公開，那就不會有更多暴力事件發生了；反過來說，如果根本不存在任何東西，我們就必須說服那些壞蛋。這點比較困難，但也不是不可能。最重要的是要掌握節奏，我們才不會被迫採取防衛，而是要出面控制這場遊戲，像棋局一樣。 奎塞提說，不，最重要的重點是，不應該越陷越深了，盡量留在距離家裡近的地方就好。如果有人想要那些文獻的話，那就給他們吧，他也不想管了。我為那個孩子感到難過，我能體會他的想法，也同情他，畢竟我也不想讓這些事發生啊，但我同時也認為克林姆說的很正確，只要世界上有壞蛋的存在，只要壞蛋能夠找到帶槍的打手，只要他們認為我們擁有價值數千萬元的寶藏，那麼我們沒有一個人是安全的。克林姆認為他能夠暫時照顧瑪莉佩格，警察則可以保護其他奎塞提家的成員，至少撐一陣子，也可以對俄國幫派施加一些壓力。但他自己也說了，那只是暫時的解決之道，而且這個寶藏的秘密會在黑社會裡不斷流傳，過不了多久，就會有其他勢力的幫派直撲我們而來。 最後，奎塞提說：好吧，那我該怎麼做？在英國無限期漫遊？我的生活費怎麼辦？ 你自己有存款，對吧？Mary Pegg said. 是啊，那是我像狗一樣辛苦工作掙來的，是要用來付學費的。如果我把錢花在這種瘋狂的事情上，那我就會毀了我自己。 我會從自己的退休基金套點現金出來。瑪莉佩格建議。 然後怎樣？靠退休養老金生活？妳瘋啦！那點退休金只能勉強供妳過活。妳的想法太瘋狂了。妳沒有其他收入。 錢不是問題，我說。他們全看著我，彷彿我說地球是平的一樣。不，我說真的，我繼續說下去，我有點錢，也很樂意帶艾伯特前往英國，把他當成我的客人一樣來招待。 第六封加密信（殘篇之一） 我為什麼還能得到您的垂憐呢？我背叛了國王，但爵爺啊，您要我以任何事發誓都行，我被背叛了，就如我之前所說，鄧巴頓爵爺親手設計讓我成為叛徒。 現在我將敘說我是如何遭到背叛的，並將我的命運交付到您的手上。冬天到了，聖燭節過後沒幾天，我想就是在那個時候，我看到彼葛先生走在芬徹區街上。我向他打招呼，但他暗地裡比手勢說不行，並繼續走了下去。我覺得不對勁，因為我已經好幾週都沒有鄧爵爺或彼葛先生的消息。當時我相當氣惱他們無視我的存在，好像我是他們計畫中的麻煩鬼一樣。我跟蹤他，他在聖克雷蒙巷時轉向河的方向，進到一間叫羔羊的酒館。那是一個低俗、黑暗的地方，我找了一名掃地的傢伙，給他一點錢，叫他到裡面買杯酒喝，並盡量坐到彼葛先生旁邊。我盡可能向他描述彼葛先生的樣子，要他出來後，告訴我聽到了什麼，如果他有跟人碰面的話，又是跟誰。如果做得不錯，我還會再給他六便士。 於是我在屋簷的陰影下等，一段時間之後，那傢伙出來了，他跟我說，彼葛和哈利．克瑞伯和約翰．辛普森見面，他們壓低了聲音說話，但他有聽到金錢交易的聲音。我們在黑暗中等待，很快彼葛先生出來了，一會兒兩位醜陋的男子走了出來，一位鼻子被砍掉，帶了一副假鼻；另一位臉像熊一般，黑黑的，穿著十分廉價。那人現在暗暗指著他們說，這就是他去會面的人。我問他：這些人是什麼樣的人？他回答說：克瑞伯（假鼻子的那位）人如其名，因為他很愛螃蟹（Ｃｒａｂ），而辛普森在這一帶都稱他為施洗約翰，他在泰晤士河施洗的本事比一般施洗者好得多了，因為他洗罪後的人就再也不會在這個世界上犯罪了。這句話的意思是他淹死那些人了。我說：那你有聽到他們的陰謀嗎？他說：有啊，我聽到他們說演員一定要死：辛普森說一枚天使幣不夠，要十枚天使幣，然後又說如果你希望由我親手將布瑞斯葛斗沉入河底，還要再給十枚天使幣，彼葛勉強答應了，並給了他。老大，我希望你跟他一樣慷慨。於是我付了錢給他，離開了那條街。我的心中充滿恐懼，不知道要向誰求救。 我心中一片紊亂，過了河走回環球劇院，在那裡準備我的戲，但非常憂鬱。劇團其他人看到，也感覺到了。世界上沒有哪一群人比劇團演員更八卦了，我那天就和困獸一般。有人說：他一定是戀愛了。另一個人說：不是，他發現他得了梅毒。另一個人又說：沒有，他一定是打牌全輸光了，披風要拿去當給猶太人，連衣架都留不住。後來我拿起一張凳子丟向山謬．吉歐彭，然後又朝湯姆士．波普丟了一張，結果我們就近距離拔劍鬥了起來，這時波比莒先生和其他人叫我們停手。 後來，那天下午我們演了悲劇《哈姆雷特》，我演的是國王的隨從，第一幕第二景時要和大家一起出來，但我瞄向票價一分錢的後座觀眾區時，心臟差一點在胸口停止，因為就在那區前方，那兩個從羔羊酒館出來的惡煞就站在那邊。我發誓我當下動也動不了，就像畫在板子上的人物一般。我錯過了出場點，直到哈利．柯戴歐打了一下我的肋骨，我才回過神來繼續演。