Chapter 11 6-2

Marina is nestled in the inner harbor at the northeast corner of Moonlight Bay, providing berths for less than 300 ships, of which less than six ships are used as long-term residences. I took my bicycle and walked west along the trunk of the pier parallel to the coast.Tires bumped lightly across the dew-soaked, uneven boardwalk, making a ringing sound.At this moment, there is only one light in the window of the whole marina that is still on.Although the street lights on the pier are very faint, they are enough to serve as a guide in the dense fog. Since all fishing boats are docked off the coast of Beiwanjiao, Marina, which has a better sheltered environment, has become a mooring pier dedicated to leisure boats.Whether it's a sloop or a ketch.Or schooners, ranging from ordinary to extravagant (mostly ordinary), most of which are moderately sized and priced yachts, a few Boston whalers, and two houseboats .The largest of these, and the largest vessel, was called the Fallback Dancer, a large sixty-foot Winship.Among the electric yachts, the largest is the Nostromo, a fifty-six-foot bluewater offshore cruise ship that is also my destination at the moment.

I made a ninety-degree turn at the west end of the pier, entering a pier branch with boats moored on either side.The Nostromo is docked to the right of the pier. I am a frequent visitor to the night.Sasha used this sentence as a signal to remind me of the identity of the person who came to the radio station to find her. He didn't want his name to be exposed on the phone, and he didn't want to go to Bobby's residence to find me.This is Robert.The line of Robert Frost, whose identity the best eavesdropper would have been impossible to guess, I presume she was referring to Roosevelt.Foster, the owner of the Nostromo.

I leaned my bicycle against the railing of the pier next to Roosevelt's boat, and the undulating waves made the boat rippling at the mooring point.They bumped against each other with a grinding sound that sounded like the murmurs of an arthritic old man in his sleep. My bike is never locked even if it is left unattended, because Moonlight Bay is always a safe haven when crime is rampant all over the world.While this picturesque little town may be on the brink of becoming a crime scene that will lead the country to murder, mutilate and beat missionaries after this weekend, we don't have to worry about a spike in bicycle theft during this time.

The walkway to the porthole was steep due to the low tide and slippery from the damp.Ourson went down as cautiously as I did.When we were two-thirds of the way there, suddenly came a deep voice that sounded weaker than a whisper. The strange thing was that I felt that the source of the sound seemed to be in the white mist above my head, he said in a questioning tone : "Who's there?" I was so startled that I almost fell into the water, but luckily I held on to the dripping walkway handrail to keep my body steady. The Bluewater 563 series is a smooth, plain white double decker yacht with a hard shell and canvas enclosure for the cockpit on the upper deck.The only lights on board came from the lower cabins through the curtained windows, from the quarter cabin aft and the master cabin amidships.The entire open upper deck and cockpit were dark and shrouded in thick fog, and I couldn't see who was speaking at the door.

"Who's there?" the man asked again in a low voice, the volume was about the same as before, but the tone became more serious. I recognized Roosevelt.Foster's voice.I answered his question in a low voice: "It's me. Chris Snow." "Son, cover your eyes." I squinted and covered my eyes with my hand as the brim of my hat, and a flashlight shone straight on to where I was standing.The flashlight was turned off immediately, and Roosevelt continued to whisper: "Is your dog with you?" "Yes, sir." "Is there anyone else?" "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Is anyone else coming with you? No one else?" "No." "Then come aboard." I could see him now, for he had approached the rail of the wheelhouse near the aft deck.Even at such a close distance, I still couldn't see his face clearly. The dark night and the indissoluble fog like a thick field, and his own dark complexion provided him with the best cover. I urged Orson forward, then jumped aboard through the gap between the wharf railing and the hull, and quickly climbed the stairs to the upper deck.When I reached the top of the deck, I found Roosevelt holding a shotgun in his hand.It looks like the American Rifle Association will move its headquarters to Moonlight Bay soon.Although his gun was not pointed at me, I dare say that he must have pointed his gun at me before he used the flashlight to confirm my identity just now.

Even without the pistol, he looked scary enough.He is six feet four inches tall. Neck as thick as a wharf post, shoulders as broad as a stay-sail's beam, thick chest, palms spread wider than the diameter of a typical steering wheel.That's the kind of guy Ahab should be looking for to deal with Moby Dick.He was a well-known American football star in the 1960s and early 1970s.The sports reporters at the time gave him the title of "Big Iron Bearer".Although he is sixty-three years old and a successful businessman, he owns a men's clothing store. A small shopping mall, as well as half of the shares in the Moonlight Bay Hotel and the country club, but with his current physical condition, the main football players who generally rely on genetic mutations and take steroids to boost their momentum are obviously not his opponents at all.

"Hello, puppy," he murmured. Olson snorted. "Son, you take this first." Foster whispered and handed the shotgun to me. Around his neck hangs a weird-looking high-tech telescope.He picked up the binoculars, looked around at the surrounding ships from the deck, and then carefully watched me come to the dock where the Nostromo passed. "How can you see things?" "Night Vision Binoculars. Can enhance limited light by 80,000 times." "But such a thick fog..." He pressed a button on the telescope, and there were some strange mechanical sounds inside the telescope. He explained: "Infrared sensor, only shows hot objects."

"There must be a lot of hot objects around Marina." "There aren't many times when the boat's motor is off. Besides, I only care about hot objects in motion." "You mean people." "possible." "Who is it?" "Anyone who follows you. Silence now, boy." I dare not make a sound.Roosevelt scanned the entire Marina area tirelessly. For the next five minutes, I kept thinking that the local businessman and former football star in front of me also had an unknown side. Actually, I'm not surprised by this.Not everyone I've met since sundown was what I knew.Even Bobby kept things from me: like the shotgun in the broom cupboard, and the monkeys.The fact that Pia thought she was the incarnation of Kahahuna has always been buried in Bobi's heart. Only now can I understand why he rejects anything that is tainted with new century ideas, including my intentional or unintentional treatment of my dog. Comments made by peculiar dogs.At least Orson has always been the same--though, given the way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised if Orson could suddenly tap dance on two feet.

"No one is following the operation," said Roosevelt, putting down the binoculars, and then retrieved his pig gun. "Child, come with me." I followed him across the deck to the ship's access port on the starboard side.Roosevelt paused to look back, his gaze passed over my head to the railing of the wharf, where Ourson was still hesitating. "Come here. Come, dog." The reason why the dog didn't stagger up was not because it noticed any movement on the pier.It was like this every time, and when it saw Roosevelt, it became uncharacteristically shy and awkward.

The host who received us usually takes "animal communication" as his hobby - the core concept advocated by this new century has already formed a whirlwind in various TV talk shows. However, Roosevelt has always kept his expertise secret, only responding to neighbors or friends Only occasionally show both hands. The mere mention of the term "animal communication" was enough to make Bobby froth at the mouth, long before Pia declared herself the goddess of surfing in search of Kahuna.Roosevelt claimed that he could sense the anxiety and hope in any pet that was brought to the door for help.He doesn't charge anything for this service, but Bobby still can't believe he's not greedy: What the hell, Snow, I never said he was a charlatan who swindled people out of money.He has a good heart. It's just a little eager for success. Roosevelt said the only thing in the world he couldn't talk to was my dog.He took Ourson as a challenge to himself, and tried to communicate with it every chance he got. "Come here, old dog." Ourson reluctantly accepts his invitation.Its paws made a ticking sound as it walked. Roosevelt slipped into the open hatch with a pig gun on his back, and walked down the steps made of fiberglass. The only lighting was the faint yellow light at the bottom of the steps.He lowered his head and arched his back, with both arms clinging to his body to narrow his body as much as possible. Even so, it seemed that he was in danger of being stuck by the narrow staircase at any time. Olsen hesitated for a while, and had no choice but to follow Roosevelt with his tail between his legs. I was in the rear.Descending the stairs leads to an aft deck in the form of a balcony, topped by a cantilevered open deck. At first it looked like Olson didn't want to go inside the aft cabin, which, with only dim lights, looked very pleasant.However, as soon as Roosevelt and I walked in, Olson immediately shook off the condensed frost on his body, shaking the deck full of water, and then happily followed us into the stern boat.I couldn't believe it would deliberately stay behind for fear of splashing us wet. Roosevelt locked the door as soon as Ourson entered.He tried the door to make sure it was securely locked.Then worry about trying again. Further in from the aft cabin is the main cabin, which has several light mahogany display cabinets, matching dark mahogany floors, dining room, and a spacious living room. As a token of respect for me, the only lights in the living room are a small built-in lamp in a glass display case full of football trophies, and two green chubby trophies in small saucers on the small dining table. Candle. The air in the room is filled with the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee.Roosevelt brought me a cup of coffee, which I readily accepted. "Sorry to hear about your father." "Well, at least he doesn't have to suffer anymore." He raised his eyebrows: "Is it true?" "I mean him." "Not you. Especially after all that Vale has seen." I couldn't help frowning and asked, "How do you know what I saw?" "The word has spread." He said mysteriously. "What are you talking about—" He raised a hand as big as an axle cap to signal me to stop for a while. "We'll talk about that later. That's why I asked you to come here. But I'm still trying to figure out how much to tell you. Let me turn things around in my own way, kid." He poured himself a cup of coffee, took off his blazer, hung it on the back of one of the oversized chairs, and sat down at the dining table without panting.He motioned for me to sit diagonally across from him, then pushed out another chair with his feet. "Here dog, this is for you," he said, asking Orson to sit on the third chair.Although this is a routine every time we meet, Orson deliberately pretends to be confused, and retreats to the floor in front of the refrigerator and gets down. "Don't do this." Roosevelt reminded it softly. Olsen yawned. Roosevelt gently rocked with one foot the chair that had been rolled out for Ourson. "Hey, be a good obedient dog." Ourson yawned even more unnaturally.Its interest is naturally a bit exaggerated. "Dog, don't force me to come and pick you up and put you on a chair." Roosevelt said, "Doing that will embarrass your master. He wants you to be a polite and good guest." He smiled when he spoke, without a hint of threat in his tone.With a square head and big ears, he looked like a big black Buddha statue, with kindness and joy in his eyes. "Be a good dog," Roosevelt repeated. Olsen's tail flicked twice on the ground, and then suddenly stopped wagging his tail as if suddenly aware of his behavior.It looked shyly from Roosevelt to me.I shrugged. Roosevelt rocked the chair gently again.Olson got up from the ground, but did not go to the dining table immediately. Roosevelt took a dog biscuit shaped like a bone from the pocket of his blazer hanging over the back of the chair.He deliberately brought the biscuit closer to the candlelight so that Orson could see it clearly.The biscuit held between his thumb and forefinger felt as small as a bauble on a bracelet, even though it was actually quite a small biscuit.Roosevelt deliberately pretended to be precious, and carefully placed the biscuit on the table directly in front of the chair.From the pocket of his blazer, Roosevelt took a second dog biscuit.He held the biscuit up to the candlelight, turned the biscuit slowly as if admiring a rare treasure, and placed it next to the first biscuit. Olsen howled with salivation, but was still unwilling to submit.It bowed its head shyly, and raised its eyes from under its brow to look at the owner of the biscuit.This was the only object Orson was reluctant to stare at. Roosevelt took a third biscuit from his jacket pocket.He held the biscuit under his big, wide nose that had been broken several times, and inhaled intoxicatedly, pretending to taste the mouth-watering aroma of the biscuit.Orson raised his head too, trying to catch the scent of biscuits in the air. Roosevelt smiled slyly, winked at Ourson, and popped the dog biscuit into his own mouth.He ate kapi kapi, took a sip of fragrant coffee, and let out a breath of satisfaction. This surprised me quite a bit.I've never seen him do that. "How does that taste?" "It tastes good. It tastes like oatmeal cake. Would you like to try one?" "No, sir. No, thank you." I declined quickly, sipping my coffee contentedly. Ourson's ears perked up; it seemed that Roosevelt had fully commanded its attention.If even the muscular, soft-spoken dark-skinned burly man in front of him enjoys this biscuit so much, presumably dogs will not be able to resist its charm. From the blazer hanging over the back of the chair, Roosevelt took another dog biscuit. Without saying a word, he held the biscuit under his nose again, and took a deep breath, even I was afraid of being hypoxic.He closed his eyes intoxicated, joy filled his face, he was so excited that he almost fainted, showing a look that he was about to swallow the biscuit at any time. Olsen's anxiety was written all over his face, he quickly jumped up from the ground, and jumped onto the chair opposite me, which was prepared for him by Roosevelt.It sat on its back and stretched its neck forward until its nose was only two inches from Roosevelt's.Then they sniff this endangered dog biscuit together. Roosevelt did not put the biscuit into his mouth. Instead, he carefully placed it on the table, side by side with the other two biscuits that had been placed in front of Orson's seat. "The dog is so cute." I don't know whether to believe Roosevelt's ability to communicate with animals, but I think he is undoubtedly a first-class animal psychologist. Orson couldn't help sniffing the biscuits on the table. "Ah, ah, ah," Roosevelt said in a warning tone. The dog quickly looked up at him. "Don't steal it without my permission," Roosevelt said, "or there will be no more biscuits for you from now on." Olson let out a groan that sounded like pleading. "I'm a man who keeps his word, dog," Roosevelt whispered firmly. "If you don't want to talk to me, I can't force you. But I can at least ask you to show proper manners on my boat. You can't just come in here like a wild dog and gobble up the biscuits. Swallow and eat." Ourson looked into Roosevelt's eyes, trying to see how seriously he took the no-stealing rule.Roosevelt did not blink.After confirming that this was not a groundless rule, Olson lowered his head and stared at the three biscuits in front of him.Its salivating expression made me almost unable to bear the taste of what that thing tasted like. "Good boy," said Roosevelt.He then picked up a remote from the dining table and pressed a button, though it was hard for his thick fingers not to press three buttons at once.Behind Olsen's back, an electric door rolls up into an invisible place, and there are two densely stacked electronic instruments in the hidden cabinet, and the bipolar vacuum tubes emit light from time to time. Olsen glanced back with a disinterested look, and then focused his attention on the three biscuits that he wanted to eat but couldn't. The large monitor screen in the cupboard turned on immediately.The screen was divided into four display areas. From the screen, one could vaguely see the Marina port area shrouded in thick fog, and the movement around the Nostromo. "What is this?" I couldn't help asking. "Security system." Roosevelt put down the remote control. "The moving object detector and infrared sensor can immediately capture the information of any approaching object and give us a warning. Then, before the opponent arrives, the telescope will automatically focus on the intruding object and zoom in on the image, Let us know who we are dealing with." "Who are we going to deal with?" He took two sips of coffee gracefully, and then said, "You probably already know too much." "What does that mean? Who the hell are you?" "I am nobody but myself," he replied. "Just old Roosevelt Foster. If you suspect me of being one of the masterminds behind this, you're dead wrong." "What is the mastermind behind it? What is it?" He looked at the four surveillance screens and said, "With any luck, they may not realize that I know about them." "Who are they? The men from Castle Weaver?" He looked back at me. "'They' no longer refers to the people of Werwenburg, but now even ordinary people are involved. I am not sure about the number, maybe a few hundred people, maybe five hundred people, but it should not exceed this number, at least Not yet. What is certain is that this matter is still spreading, and more and more people are involved...and it has already spread to areas outside of Moonlight Bay." I was very annoyed to hear that. "Did you deliberately not speak clearly?" "As much as I can, yes." He stood up from his seat, reached for the coffee pot, and poured hot coffee into the cup without saying a word.He obviously wanted to do to me what he did to Orson, to wait for him to spit out bits and pieces of things the way Orson waited for a biscuit. The dog licked the tabletop around the three biscuits, but its tongue still dared not touch the biscuits. As soon as Roosevelt was back in his seat, I asked, "If you weren't with that gang, how would you know about them?" "I don't know much." "Obviously more than me." "I only know what the animals tell me." "What animal?" "Oh, of course it's not your dog." Ourson looked up from the biscuit. "It's a mystery," Roosevelt said. Although I have not been aware of it, since sunset, I have been walking through a strange magic mirror. I decided to play the game in the same way, so I said, "So you say... what did the other animals say to you except my mysterious dog ?” "You better not know the whole truth. You just need to know that you better forget what you witnessed in hospital parking lots and funeral homes." I sat up straight, as if being straightened by my own tense scalp. "You're with them." "No. Take it easy kid, you're safe with me. How long have we known each other?" It's been over two years since you and your dog first came to my place.I trust you know you can trust me. " In fact, I still have a little trust in Roosevelt in my heart, although I am not as confident in my own eyes as before. "If you don't try to forget what you've seen," he continued, "if you try to report to the higher ups in the government outside the city, you're going to endanger the lives of many people." The more I listened, the tighter my chest became, I couldn't help yelling: "You just said that I can trust you, but now you're threatening me instead." He looked hurt. "Son, I'm really your friend, I won't threaten you, I just want to tell you—" "I know, that's what your animal friends told you." "It is the people of Werwenburg who want to suppress this matter at any cost, not me. No matter what, you will not be in any danger for the time being. Even if you go outside to report to the government agency, they will not harm you. For you, at least not at first. They dare not touch you. Not you. You are the object of respect." It was the strangest thing he had ever said.I blinked my eyes puzzled to make sure I heard correctly: "Respected?" "Yes. They are all in awe of you." I found Orson looking at me intently, as if he had forgotten all about his biscuits. What Roosevelt said was not only puzzling, it was sheer nonsense. "Why should they respect me?" I demanded. "Because of your identity." My mind raced around like a circling seagull. "What identity do I have?" Roosevelt frowned deeply, and held his face with his hands as if in deep thought. "Damn it, I don't know either. I'm just repeating what I've heard." The words that animals speak to you.Hmph, do you think you are Dr. Dolittle? Words of some of the swear words Bobby had said crawled into my head. "The point is," he said, "the people at Werwinburg won't kill you unless you drive them no choice." "When you met Sasha tonight, you told her it was a matter of life and death." Roosevelt nodded gravely. "It does. It does to her and some others. As far as I know, these bastards are going to kill your loved ones for the purpose of controlling operations until you get rid of any further pursuit of this matter." thoughts, forget what you saw, and move on with your life." "The one I love?" "Sasha, Bobby. Even Orson will not be spared." "They're going to kill my friends just to shut me up?" "Until you shut up, one by one, they'll kill one by one, until you shut up to save the rest." In order to find out the cause of my parents' death, I am willing to risk my life, but I can't take the life of my friend as a bet. "They are simply inferior to beasts. Unscrupulous and indiscriminate killing of innocent people—" "That's what you're dealing with." I was so angry that the pressure in my brain rose sharply, as if it was about to burst: "Who exactly is the target I'm dealing with? It's not enough to know that it's someone from Fort Weiwen, I have to know more details." Roosevelt sipped his coffee and remained silent.Maybe he really was my friend, maybe if I did what he said, I could really save Sasha and Bobby's life, but I still couldn't help but punch him.I might actually do that, and if I had the chance to not get cut off, I'd even want to relentlessly punch him a few times in a row. Olson puts one front foot on the table, not to shove the biscuit to the ground and swallow it, but to keep his balance as he looks sideways behind me.Something in the hall caught its attention.When I turned to follow Orson's gaze and looked back, I saw a cat sitting on the arm of the sofa, against the faint light from the trophy display case.Its coat color looks and hair.Its face was shadowed, and its eyes glowed green with gold flecks. It could be the cat I met earlier tonight in the back hill of Kirk Funeral Home. The cat sat upright like an Egyptian statue in a pharaoh's tomb, as if it intended to sit motionless on the arm of the sofa for the rest of its life. Even though it's just a small animal, I'm still not used to turning my back on it.I moved to the chair opposite Roosevelt, from which I could see the entire hall to my right and the sofa at the end. "When did you start raising cats?" I asked curiously. "That's not my cat," Roosevelt said. "It's just here to play." "I think I saw the cat this evening." "Yes, that's right." "That's what it told you, huh?" I said with Bobby's usual scorn. "Mongogeli talked to me, yes." Roosevelt replied in an affirmative tone. "Who are you talking about?" Roosevelt pointed to the cat on the couch. "Mongogeli." He told me every word.