Chapter 2 Chapter One

A young man, bouncing up and down the next level of stairs, headed for the Union Square underground train station.He looked playful in a three-piece gray-striped flannel suit and a tawny fedora tilted askew.Carrying a black crocodile leather briefcase in his hand.That briefcase is empty, just a prop. He stood straight on the train platform, browsing around inadvertently.To see who he's following, head to the phone booth first, then go through the turnstiles at the entrance.He knew the route this person took, and he also knew the destination of this person. The man was leaning against a post, flicking the New York Post with his hand.Then, hearing the rumbling sound of the train approaching, they folded up the newspaper, and the crowd rushed towards the edge of the platform, and the young man walked over at a leisurely pace.He was standing in a position where he could sit in the same carriage as the person he was following.At this time, everyone waited patiently.

The train was coming, its headlights were brightly lit.Experienced passengers gather at certain positions, and they know that when the train stops, each door of the train is facing these positions. The young man moved forward inch by inch towards the edge of the platform, his eyes fixed on the person he was following, and he was about to jump up at the last minute before the train started. The train roared into the station, slowed down, and the wheels creaked.The well-dressed young man's smile faded, and he tucked his empty briefcase under his side. Suddenly, someone shoved him hard on the back, and he wobbled, headfirst, and fell off the edge of the platform, his fedora and alligator briefcase flew down, and he fell onto the rails, sprawled , fell right in front of the train.

There was a scream, and the screeching sound of the train slamming on the brakes. It was still too late. The train ran over him, and he lay on the rails in a bloody mess.The first car passed him by the time the train stopped. The crowd shouted and panicked, not knowing what was going on.An old man knelt down to pray and made the cross on his chest. The one who had been nailed by the young man slowly withdrew from the crowd.Walk out of the subway station, go to the sunny ground, take out a cigarette, and light it.After a while, the murderer also came. "Nice job!" said the man who had been nailed.

The two walked slowly to a nearby bar together and ordered a glass of martini. Hudlin's research company is not comparable to many other large companies in terms of size and prestige.However, this company on Wall Street is specially hired to investigate the financial status of companies that have business dealings with the client, but it is quite reliable, and its reputation is quite likely to continue to grow.These investigations are all conducted under fairly confidential circumstances. When many companies are sold, merged, or taken over in an unfriendly manner, they will seek advice from lawyers, or find investigators to investigate the conduct of the other company's boss, chairman of the board, president, and executive director.The evaluation of the integrity of these people will affect the transaction.

Hudlin's has only been in business for four years, and stands like a new boy on the street.The company's owner, Heron Hudlin, had previously worked for the FBI.Now, the company is also a minor name in the industry.Many large companies that want to merge and take over other companies come to Hudlin's company to do credit investigations for them first, and the business is overwhelming. The offices of Hudlin's company, a building built in the early twentieth century and now looking old and dilapidated, are located on John Street.In the future, the street plans to demolish the old buildings and expand them into reinforced concrete skyscrapers with glass curtains and new elevators.

Now the offices of Hudlin's company are dilapidated.There are several small offices separated by plywood.Tiles were laid on the pitted floor, and several potted plants were placed in the reception room, all made of plastic. Boss Helen Hudlin is very organized and delegates in layers.He divided the company into three departments, namely: Lawyer's Office, Accounting Office, and Investigation Office, and set up three directors.Samantha Whatley is the Director of Investigations. At 3:30 that afternoon, the news of Edward Goff's death in the Union Square subway station reached the offices of Hudlin's firm.Two NYPD detectives went to Hudlin's office to break the news to Hellen Hudlin.A detective from his firm, died in the circumstances.Therefore, the police launched an investigation into the case.

Helen Hudlin brought Samantha, and the two discussed the possibility of assassination.New York City police detectives asked for Edward's personal file and copied his photo.When the detective asked Heron Hudling who would kill Edward, he blushed and couldn't answer. Then he thought for a while and said: "When we do this kind of investigative work, strict confidentiality is the most important thing, otherwise our reputation will suffer." One of the detectives sighed. "Shall we give you a court summons?" he asked. "In the past, we often cooperated with your subordinates, and we don't want everyone to do this now."

Hudlin is a fat man, he just wants to go back to the second floor office.He stroked his bald head and looked at the New York detectives. "Do you think Edward Garver was murdered?" The detective shrugged. "He fell, maybe jumped, maybe pushed, who knows? Nobody saw anything, and nobody wanted to get involved. You know, we're going to keep going. We're going to find him first. It's working in your company, isn't it?" Hudlin made up his mind quickly, and he couldn't easily dismiss the local detectives. "Okay!" he said, "I'll give you a photocopy of Edward Gulf's photo and file, so that's enough cooperation! If you want to get in touch with any of the staff here, Samantha, please arrange Are these things okay? I have to see a client."

Samantha nodded. She knew that whenever the boss said, "I'm going to see a client," it was a weekly visit to his mistress. The mistress of Hellen Hudlin, who often deals with managers and executives in the financial circle.In addition, she has been described as a "stunt person in bed", and it is not easy to deal with many celebrities and successful businessmen.When meeting those wealthy businessmen, she is even more hospitable. All the staff of Hudlin's company were interviewed by the police.Samantha summoned her men to her office.At first, she wanted to find all seven investigators, but one of them was sick and did not come, and the other two were not in New York and went outside to investigate.

As four investigators crowded into her office, she said in a flat voice: "You all heard the news of Edward Goff's death. I know how you feel. The police have notified his mother and sister. After his autopsy, we will all attend his funeral without any objection. This is an order." All four stared down at the floor. In an industry where Goff's death was a painful accident, they were all licensed to carry guns.But Edward Goffs couldn't save his life with a gun, could it?Thinking of Edward's tragic death, they were all very angry. "Samantha, how did he die, do the police know?" Ernie Watt said.

"It's not clear yet, he may have fallen, jumped, or someone pushed him." "He was pushed," said Timothy Cohen, who was standing in the open office doorway. Samantha looked up, looking at him sharply. "how do you know?" "Edward owns a 'Jacker' car. He will drive it himself. Unless someone is nailed down, he will take the subway instead. He has always had good taste, as you know." "It's also possible he fell," Fury Burgess said. "It was just an accident." "No way," said Timothy Cohn. "Edward is a very cautious man. He will not have an accident. He will not jump to commit suicide. He loves life too much. I tell you, he was pushed down." "You're so sure," Samantha said angrily, "Just tell the police that." "I have this plan, maybe it's crazy." "Timothy," Samantha said, "I wish I could be as confident as you are in everything." "I'm pretty sure about that," Timothy said coldly. "Edward has been killed. Samantha, what is he investigating?" "I'm calling you in for this." She patted a stack of files on the table. "I'm going to assign the case that Edward took over to you. Until Joey recovers from illness and returns to work, I will hand it over to him. Maybe we will hire another person to fill Edward's vacancy." "Jesus!" cried Saul Faber. "Samantha, we have enough work now, you need to assign work!" "Are you complaining to me? Think I haven't mentioned it to the boss? Maybe Edward is dead, and we have a reason to ask the boss to add more staff. Before that, we can only ask everyone to be overworked, and don't eat two for one lunch." Hour." "You said we would spend two hours eating lunch?" Timothy asked in disbelief. "We eat a hamburger and a Coke for lunch and it takes two hours?" She glared at him, her body like a swimmer, her muscles like an athlete's, her blue-green eyes.The chest is flat, the hips are fleshless, and the long auburn hair is tightly combed on the top of the head like an auburn honeycomb. Samantha's background information includes four years of service in the U.S. Army, three years with the New York City Police Department, and two years with a private detective agency.Maybe some people doubted whether she was a woman, but no one doubted her ability. "Okay," she said, "after we distribute the work, everyone will go back to work." She began to distribute the files. "Ernie, this is yours. Fury, this is yours. Sol, you take this. Timothy, this one's for you." "Yes, boss." He said, "You are so kind to me!" "As you say." She said, "The police will talk to you separately later, so don't leave yet." "Will the police make a copy of these files?" Saul Faber asked. "They will." Samantha said: "If you find any doubts that can help the police solve Edward's case, then try to speak up and don't be shy. One more thing: your work progress is all behind, you have to work hard .It's over, let's go back!" The four investigators walked down the corridor, each returning to their offices as small as a storage room. "Samantha's an Iron Lady," said Ernie Watt, with a sigh. "Iron fists in iron gauntlets," said Timothy Cohn. Colleagues are talking nonsense. Timothy Cohn took Edward's file back to his office plug, stuffed it into a large yellow bag, taped the seal tight, and left the building. He knew the NYPD would find him eventually, and he wouldn't have to sit in his office waiting for them. Timothy Cohen lived in the loft of a building on Broadway.When the weather is nice, he walks to work.Walking in the car was very leisurely, exhaling smoke while walking, watching the changing appearance of New York. On this particular day, it was a warm and misty September evening with a few clouds floating in the sky.As he walked, he thought about Edward Garver. Edward didn't count as his particularly close friends, but Timothy didn't have any close friends either.The rest of Hudlin's detectives thought he was sometimes serious and sometimes crazy.Although Timothy was a loner, Edward sincerely wanted to try to make friends with him. He failed, but Timothy Cohen was grateful.Perhaps, Edward saw the love and shyness beneath his cold exterior. Edward had been trying to make the slovenly Timothy more groomed and neat. "I know you're not without money, but you live in a dump and dress like a bum, why bother?" "I don't like to go shopping." He didn't mention that the department store clerk was bullying him into buying things. "Also, I have no interest in fashionable clothing." "Timothy, if I go with you, will you buy some decent suits?" "No, I have enough clothes." In fact, Timothy admired Howard Godfrey very much, and it could even be said that he envied him.He always seemed to be full of life and well-dressed. However, when he went to the morgue and saw Edward's body lying on the clean stainless steel platform, his body was dripping with blood, which was horrible. "It shouldn't be like this!" Timothy Cohen, who was walking on the road, suddenly yelled, and passers-by looked sideways at him, looking at him nervously. The Wall Street detective was thin and hawk-like.He never seriously shaved, so he always had a black stubble on his chin.Although he is tall, he has a hunchback, and when he walks, he has an ugly gait, which makes people think of a poor farmer. In fact, he is a true urbanite, born in Brooklyn, New York. No one thinks he is handsome, but when he smiles, he has a charm, and his shortcomings disappear, but it is rare to see his smile.He is willing to take responsibility and work tirelessly.But he was born with a bad temper, and every minute he waited for the end of the world, but in his life, there were always good things happening, which shocked him unceasingly. On this day, he wore a large black windbreaker, which was so old and wrinkled that the black color had faded to gray, and the neckline and cuffs were greasy.He wore an old black leather hat on his head, pressing down the reddish-yellow hat that looked like an ear of rice.Under the windbreaker, he wore a black corduroy suit and bulky yellow work shoes on his big feet. He returned to the residence and was about to climb the stairs into the attic apartment when he saw the street door unlocked.This is the third time in the past few months. He squatted down quickly, took out a .357 pistol from his shins, and put it in the pocket of his windbreaker. The first to fourth floors of this building are offices.The big freight elevator stopped at six o'clock in the afternoon.He climbed up the iron ladder, holding the gun in one hand, and the yellow paper bag in the other, which contained Edward's file folder. As he climbed the stairs, he listened to conversations passing through the office.Climbing to the sixth floor, he stopped, took a deep breath, and checked that his door was locked.OK, nothing.The place where he lived had been broken into twice. It was a month ago, and the thief never came again. Why come again?Nothing to steal anyway. Edward was right: it was a dump. A large room with cracked painted walls.The sink, stove, and tub are all in full view and fully exposed.The sprinkler system pipes above were all visible, and the light shone down on it, revealing the mess and decay of the house.A pane of glass was broken, and Timothy simply stuffed it with an old coat. There was a mattress on the floor.It never occurred to Timothy to buy a bed and put the mattress on it.There's a rickety table that serves as a dining table.A chest of drawers he had found on the street and brought back.The only decoration on the wall was a lithograph of Washington passing by the Delaware Indian Reservation.This painting was hung on the wall when he moved here, and it has never been touched. He opened the door and went in, and the cat named "Cleo" came running right away, its thin back rubbed against his legs, purring and purring, which was very pitiful. "Shut your mouth," Timothy said. "You're eating while I'm working." While cursing, he bent down, grabbed the fur on the nape of its neck, and picked it up. This cat seems to fight a lot, and loses them all.Timothy found the cat on a winter night when the north wind was howling. The whole body was covered with wounds and the fur was torn in several places. He took the cat home and the cat licked the wound.He tossed it a piece of salami, and it gobbled it up. This is a male cat.Timothy found out that the male cat was castrated, so he named the cat "Cleo", which was originally the abbreviation of Cleopatra, the queen of Egypt, so he might as well castrate him again in terms of title.Besides, this cat is really ugly, he has never seen such an ugly cat in his life, at least the name should be more attractive. He had a small refrigerator that came up to his waist and was long overdue.Timothy opened the refrigerator door to see what was inside.There was a piece of cold fried pork that was hard as a rock.There was also a can of instant coffee, and a piece of cheese, already covered with green mold.And there was an unopened packet of spiced firecrackers, four cans of beef gravy, a limp tomato, a bundle of asparagus, and that was all. However, in the frozen layer he found two more "pizzas", sausages, and vodka.This is good! He tossed the cold piece of fried pork to Cleo, and it took it and ran away, to the gap under the tub, where it munched and no one could take it away. Timothy sat down at the kitchen table in a chair with slender legs and poured a glass of vodka. Halfway through drinking, he heard someone knocking on the door, which was a familiar signal: knock twice, stop once, knock again. He got up, went to the door and undid the two deadbolts, opened the door, and Samantha stood in the doorway.She was wearing a military-style trench coat with a belt around the waist. "Hey, fool!" she said. "Hey, shithead," he said. Ten minutes later, they were making love in bed naked, leaving everything behind. Samantha woke up first, just after seven.She got up from the mattress, dressed and washed as quickly as possible.After searching for a long time, she found a fairly clean towel, and she made a face in disgust.Then brush the hair with a comb, then comb the hair with rubber bands and bobby pins, and coil it on the top of the head. Dressed quickly, then reached over to tickle Timothy, who was soundly asleep. "Get up, you lazybones," she said aloud. "I'm going home, but I need a cup of coffee first." He grunted and got up slowly, rubbing his face with his palms, and Cleo came to sniff his bare toes and was kicked away by him. "Go and boil the water first," he said in a sleepy voice. "I stink like a goat, go take a shower first." She filled the pot with water and put it on the stove to boil, then found two cups, saucer and matches among his cups and trays.Seeing how dirty it was, she gave up in disgust. "You live like a gypsy," she told him. "I'm a gypsy," he said, "and if you complain any more, I'll issue an eviction order." She saw that there was no shower head for flushing water on his bathtub, so he installed a nozzle on a long piece of plastic water pipe, and connected the water pipe to the faucet.Soap in one hand, rinse with the faucet in the other, standing on top of the corroded enamel bathtub, spilling water all over the linoleum floor. He was skinny, with little flesh.Good skin, lots of freckles on arms.The belly is flat and the rump is flattened.Samantha thought the man was good. After taking a bath, Timothy came out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel. "What a rubbish heap!" he said himself. "You should take your dirty clothes to the laundry, and you should have clean towels and sheets. Get some white wine, I'm tired of red wine." "Yes, sir!" he said, snapping salute. "Any more champagne and caviar?" "The first time I saw you, I knew you were the beer-drinking and Italian-sandwich-eating type." They sat at the table, sipping steaming black coffee. "Samantha, have you read Edward's weekly report for this month?" "Do you still have to ask? When I heard of his death, I was the first to look at his weekly reports for the past few months. Everything is normal, and there is not a word of trouble with him. You have to see ?" "No," he said, "you say there's nothing wrong with those reports, so that's all right." She stared at him. "You became a good gentleman, and I began to wonder, what do you want?" "I'm going to the office later this morning." "What is this for?" "I brought the Edward file home," he told her. "You took the file home from the office without authorization? You should be damned! If the boss finds out, you will be miserable!" "Yeah, I know, so I'm worried! Anyway, before the police interrogate me and the phone rings, I have to finish reading these files quickly, so I'll be here later." "Timothy, you must not drop these files, you know?" "Yes," he said. "You don't object?" "Is it useful for me to object?" She put her warm palm on his. "Edward's death pained you very much, didn't you?" He swirled the rest of the coffee in his cup, then drank it in one gulp. "It's not quite right," he said stubbornly. She slung the straps of her purse over her shoulders, picked up the military coat, and bent over to scratch Cleo's ribs, while the cat purred with delight. "Don't forget to feed her," she said. "Not her," said Timothy, "I was going to tell you he was a castrated tom." "She, he, it," Samantha said, "it doesn't matter what he is." At the door, she turned and raised her face to him. "Kiss me," she said. He did. she left.Timothy closed the door, bolted it, and locked it again.I found a pack of cigarettes, picked it up, and saw that it was empty, not a single one was left.However, he saw two cigarette butts in the ashtray and another in the trash can.At this time, he was so addicted to cigarettes that he couldn't bear it. He straightened the butt of the cigarette, lit his first cigarette of the day, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, he was choked and coughed, coughed, coughed badly. He got up to change Cleo's water, tossed it the moldy cheese, and added a slice of spiced smoked meat.This cat will eat anything. Timothy poured himself another cup of black coffee, sat down, and opened Edward's file. He flipped through it quickly, most of which were secret information on the valuation of Hudlin's company, handed over by the company's accounting office and lawyer's office, and then let the detectives do further investigation. In addition, there were some notes written by Edward. Looking at the handwriting of the deceased, Timothy felt very sick, as if he suddenly heard the voice of the dead from the grave through the telephone recorder.Timothy lit his second cigarette butt this morning and looked slowly at the file. The case does not seem to be different, the client is Ai Shi and his son.Einstein & Sons is a real estate company in the East Side of Manhattan. It has been passed down from generation to generation with a long history and a good reputation. Many beautiful buildings in New York City were built by this company. The current boss of the company is Isaac, who is almost seventy years old and has decided to retire and live in a beach villa in Palm Beach to enjoy his old age. Isaac was going to sell the company to Clovis.According to newspaper and magazine reports, the company owns almost half of the real estate in Manhattan.But Isaac is a cautious person. Before making this deal, he intends to investigate whether the other party is reliable.He sold the company, and the other party promised to pay 1.75 billion US dollars, which is not a small amount. Therefore, Isaac gave the job to Hudlin's company and demanded all the confidential information of Clovis company. This investigation must be carried out under extremely secret circumstances, and the balance sheet of Clovis Company, the staff of Hudlin Company must be obtained, and the few public data and confidential sources should be used as much as possible.Seek out Clovis exes, and tip off, especially those disgruntled with Clovis.Finally a report was drawn up that described Clovis as fragrant as a rose. Briefly describe the situation of the parent company of Clovis, with assets of more than one trillion US dollars, and four other companies that produce related products, including the plumbing industry, hydropower equipment, foundation engineering, steel bars, etc., collectively called "New World Enterprises" ".This "New World Enterprise Company" was established fourteen months ago. Looking at the data, Timothy couldn't find anything wrong. He lit a third cigarette butt. It seems that this company is quite profitable. Timothy flipped through Edward's private notes and read them very carefully.The owner of Clovis, Stanley Clovis, 43, and his sister, Lucinda Clovis, 41, each own 50 percent of the company .Stanley is married and has two children.Lucinda is single and has no children. The brother and sister are very active in New York social circles and often participate in charitable causes, donating to libraries, museums, ballet companies, and symphony orchestras.They are often mentioned in social news in newspapers.Recently, they will build a large playground in Bronx, New York. It seems that Stanley and Lucinda brothers and sisters are very respected figures with a good image.Timothy thought, these people have plenty of money, and of course they can afford it.It is recorded in the notebook that further investigation is required before the evaluation is fair. Turn to the last page of Edward's notes, and write out the words written with a green pen.Timothy carefully discerned, what word did Edward write originally? DUM? Timothy stared at the three capital letters in a daze.What does it mean?Is it an abbreviation of three words? After closing the file, there is no connection between this file and Edward's death.Perhaps, as colleagues Ernie Watt, Fury Burgess, and Saul Faber suggested, Edward slipped and fell under the platform. For a minute, Timothy couldn't believe that someone would deliberately kill Edward Goffre. However, what does the word DUM mean? Sighing, he stood up, put the Clovis company file into the crepey yellow paper bag, and prepared to go to the office. He still wore the thin corduroy suit, yellow work shoes, and black leather cap.When he came to the door, he stopped suddenly, and looking back at Cleo who was staring at him, he held up a forefinger and said to it: "Take a good look at the house!" The cat seemed surprised by the master's orders.Then Timothy locked the door and stepped down the creaking iron ladder. He first went to buy a pack of "Camel" cigarettes, and then walked slowly towards the city.The air is fresh, the sun is shining, the crowds are noisy, the Broadway area is full of life, many new houses are under construction, the street vendors are also busy doing business, everyone is in a hurry to make money. When he got to the office, he found that New York City detectives were already waiting for him.The police detective sat quietly on a foldable chair, chewing something in his mouth. The detective was a big man, with an impressive weight.Seeing him, the detective asked straight to the point: "Are you Timothy Cohn?" "right!" "Are you the investigator here?" "right!" "I told you to stay last night, why did you leave?" "My cat is sick and the vet doesn't know if he can be saved." "That's new. The excuse I hear is usually the wife is in ICU or something." "I think so." In Timothy's cramped office, the detective shows Timothy his papers.His name was Neil Davenport, and he had a ruddy face and fat hands.He had a habit of tilting his head to one side when he asked a question.Timothy couldn't hide his stupidity, he knew that this man was quite capable. "Do you smoke?" he asked. "No thanks, I quit smoking and chew gum now." As he spoke, he took out another pack of chewing gum, opened the wrapper, and put the gum in his mouth.Then rolled up the candy wrapper and stuffed it in the pocket of the jacket. "Are you familiar with the dead?" "Not very familiar." "Unfamiliar, I suppose so. I hear you are withdrawn." "right!" "There's nothing wrong with that," Neil said, changing his posture.His huge body, sitting on that chair, looked very uncomfortable. "I hope you don't mind when I say that." He chewed his gum steadily. "Do you know about Edward's private life?" "Just a little bit. I know he lives with his mother and sister around Colise Park." "Well, he didn't talk about any girlfriends?" "No." "What about friends? Or enemies?" "No, I don't know. I tell you, I'm not very close to him." "Uh," the fat detective replied with a sigh. "I know you think he was pushed down." "That's what I think. There's no way he fell. He's too smart to have that kind of accident. I think he was pushed down. Maybe it's crazy to speculate." "Maybe. That day, he was carrying an empty briefcase. Do you know why he did that?" "have no idea." "You took the files of one of his cases?" Timothy nodded. "What did you find out?" "I can't see anything wrong." The detective produced a business card and put it on his desk. "If you find anything," he said, "call me." "I'll do it," Timothy said. "I know you will." Neil smiled. "We're all on the same side, aren't we?" After he was gone, Timothy walked down the hallway between the accounts office and the lawyer's office.He stopped at the door of an office twice the size of his own, with two windows and a carpeted floor.The bronze plaque on the door read: "Mr. Sinai Abikela." Sinai was a nice guy, but unfortunately he had a long, big rosacea, and he actually didn't drink at all.When you see him, your eyes are automatically fixed on that long nose, and it is difficult for even the most polite visitor to take your eyes off his balloon-swollen nose. Sinai Abikela looked up as Timothy entered. "I'm not free right now," he said. "I know you're not available." As Timothy spoke, he pulled a chair by his desk and sat down. The accounting director sighed. "I was saddened to hear of Edward's death," he said. "Yeah, he's a nice guy. Sinai, you signed some of his financial statements for Clovis, didn't you?" "Yeah, what's wrong?" "As far as I know, there is nothing wrong with it, but I have a question. Clovis is in the real estate business. Why did they set up a subsidiary company, New World Enterprises, to do the same kind of business. This is for what?" "I asked Stanley Clovis himself about this, and he said that parent companies are big projects, multimillion-dollar deals, like skyscrapers or factory buildings. And New World Enterprises The packages are all small projects, like renovating some old high-end residences, or some abandoned houses.” "Well," said Timothy, "I see that, and it makes sense." He got up to leave, and stopped at the door. "Sinai, there is one more thing. Does DUM represent any special meaning in terms of finance and taxation?" "I think one letter is missing, it should be DUMB, which means stupid." "No way," Timothy said patiently. "He wrote these three capital letters, followed by a question mark." "I can't think of any point in that." "me too." Next, Timothy walked to Samantha's office. "You're here at last," she said, glaring at him. He ignored her sarcasm. "Did you mention the Edward case to any of the other guys?" "Of course I talked about it. What kind of head do you think I am? They didn't find any doubts." "Okay," he said calmly, "I'm just asking, see you later." He waved his hand and walked back to his office.He picked up the fur hat and went out.He got on a bus out of town, knowing it was a long ride, but he appreciated the chance to look out of the window at New York City, the crazy city he loved, and for so many reasons, Can't say, but sitting in the car, he can think about it. He guessed well that there are many stylish offices on Wall Street, with plush carpets that sink your ankles when you step on them, abstract and impressionist paintings on the walls, and a lot of money for a phone call. , and often play various tricks. He believes that going to see the location of the company suddenly will help him to understand and judge the company initially.Sometimes detectives can get an impression of the head office and see if it's a decent company, but that's not always the case. Getting out of the car on Fifth Street, Timothy walked toward the Clovis main office.That building was made entirely of glass curtains, and the glass curtain walls stretched down gracefully. The Clovis Company occupies the entire ninth floor of the building, and the reception room seems to be only slightly smaller than Grand Central Station, with many people sitting and standing here and there waiting.Therefore, Timothy can easily walk around and watch without attracting the attention of the company personnel. He saw an enormous chart propped on an easel, showing the status of Clovis assets. He stood in front of the photo of "New World Enterprise Company" and took a closer look. The company's house looked like a waterproof warehouse. It was two stories high and seemed as big as a football field.Next to the photo, the company's address was not marked, but Timothy thought it would not be difficult to find it. "Need my service, sir?" A pleasant voice sounded in his ear. He turned his head, and a beautiful blonde smiled at him.She was wearing a purple uniform, and Timothy took off his fur cap to greet her. "I'm on West Seventy-third Street. I have a high-end residence in a granite building that I plan to sell. I'm here to find someone to negotiate." "Well, you should write to us first, or through an agent." He nodded gravely. "Good advice, I'll follow through." "Good-bye, then," she said, and turned away. He walked to the exit counter, where there was also a blonde lady in a purple uniform. "Miss, can you give me a business card of New World Enterprise Company, I want to write there." “当然可以，先生，”她愉快地说，递给他一张名片。“在布鲁克林，要过河，你知道。” “是啊，”他说：“我似前就住在那里。” 他最后转了一圈，别处看看。这间接待室相当奢华，铺着奶油色地毯，香草色瑞典家具。灯光柔和，飘着音乐，是一九八〇年美国大公司的典型。 提摩西心想，那个大得像仓库的“新世界企业公司”，不知是什么样子。 他走地下道到布鲁克林，等火车时，他特别小心地站着。 花了两个小时的时间，才到了“新世界企业公司”总部。这时，天色也变了。雨云从纽泽西那边吹来，天空泛着黄褐色的光，空气里有股硫磺的味道。雨不久就下来了，提摩西那件薄料的灯芯绒西装，已经像一条湿毯子那么重了。 他走过西街，端详着“新世界企业公司”，这的的确确就是一间仓库嘛！柏油路面铺得非常平坦，四周以有刺的铁丝网为篱。双扇大门旁，有一个警卫站岗的小亭。两辆挖土机和三辆重型卡车停在铁丝网内侧。看来干干浄净，晶亮如新。 看不出有人在里面活动。仓库内没有灯光，就像一个废弃的地方。提摩西说不出什么原因，只感到这儿不大对劲。 他过街走到大门前，门锁住了。凑近一看，要弄开这锁容易得很。门旁警卫室有一个老头，跛着脚走出来。 "What's the matter?" he asked. “这儿有人吗？”提摩西愉快地说道：“我想找一个职员谈话。” “这儿没有人，”那守卫的老人说：“他们全回去了，你明天再来吧！” “还得跑一趟！好吧，维克·史潘诺拉还在这儿吗？” "Who is it?" “维克·史潘诺拉，我一个朋友，以前在这儿值夜班守夜。” “先生，”老头说：“这儿从来就没有夜班守夜的人，我在这儿工作这段期间，从来就没有过，而这公司一成立我就来了。” “看来一定是我弄错了。”提摩西说：“谢谢你帮忙，我明天再来。快回你的警卫亭吧，下雨了。” “是啊！”老人说：“身上都湿了。” 提摩西又走了很长的路到地下铁，沿途都是纸屑、垃圾，和工业建筑。跑这趟很值得，多少知道一些。 这家公司仓库前的柏油马路，看起来就像昨天才铺的，没一点脏，也没有轮胎的痕迹，没有坑坑洞洞，或凸出来的地方。整个地方，看来崭新尙未用过。 他走到地下铁的时候，雨哗啦哗啦的下来了。一个小时之后，他在太子道下车，雨已经停了。提摩西想，这可是个好预兆，他拆开第二包“骆驼牌”香烟，并做些琐事。 他去洗衣店拿衣服，买了一瓶白葡萄酒，选了两块冰冻的牛排，计划拿一块给克丽奥吃。他又买了带胡椒的干酪，一罐辣椒香肠。心想，吃这么多辣的食品，他的胃到底能够忍受多久不致溃疡。他和克丽奥吃完之后，都十分愉快，吃罢就睡了。午夜之前，提摩西醒了过来。把枪袋绑在足胫上，然后穿上他的黑雨衣和皮帽，口袋里放了一个小手电筒。 “祝我好运吧，猫儿。” 他对克丽奥说着，就出门了。 这时候，他打算到布鲁克林“新世界企业公司”的总部。天上云层很厚，遮住了目光，街灯在有雾的晚上也是暗沉沉的。他这时出门，还得真有些运气才行。街道上冷淸淸的，他感觉到点三五七那把枪在那儿。 他只花不到一分钟就把大门打开了，然后他进入里面，小心掩上门。迅速走过柏油路面，白天下过雨，湿漉漉的路面还闪着光影。 他在仓库外仔细的巡了一周，没有用手电筒，仔细察看是否有电子警报系统，他什么也没看到。 窗子全栓上，借着外面投入的光线，他看到里面有一间小办公室，办公室里分开放着两张桌子。然后他慢慢地绕着这建筑物走，细细从每扇窗子往里面窥视。这个仓库相当大，看来像飞机场的飞机库。没有柱子，上面横梁全是钢条做的。 “你知道吗？”珊曼莎说：“如果你是个真正有钱的人，人们一定说你相当古怪。但你没什么钱，大家会认为你是个笨人。昨天你去新世界企业公司，要是触到警报系统，把警察惹来了，一定会上报，成了大新闻，我们公司也完了。” “没那么严重。”提摩西说着，耸耸肩。 “你真可恶！”珊曼莎说。 这是个落雨的星期六下午，他俩不愿在公共场合被人看到，怕公司的同事看到他们两人在一起，所以仍然待在他的小阁楼里。 这对他没什么，他一直遵循自己的原则。这个下午，他俩就在小阁楼里喝着白酒。 “你让我把经过讲完好不好？”他要求她。“昨天我去找过会计主任西奈，他告诉我，十四个月以前，新世界企业公司成立之时，资本额是一亿三千五百万美元。他们买下布鲁克林这家大仓库，加以整修，隔了一间小办公室，外面放着挖土机和卡车。想想看，这些能花上多少钱？最多也不过一百万美元。他们投资这么多钱要做什么呢？” “他们当然是要盖住宅和商业大楼。”珊曼莎说道。 提摩西摇摇头。 “我查过，纪录上没有这些，西奈也查过。没有用他们的名义开的建筑许可证，他们什么也没申请。所以，西奈问史坦利·克洛维斯这家新界企业公司到底是干什么的，史坦利说现在还在筹划阶段——随他怎么说了。 “我打电话到布鲁克林的新世界企业公司，假装我在西区拥有好几栋高级住宅，想要整修一番。对方那懒洋洋还在睡觉的男人声音说，新世界接的生意太多了，现在不接新的生意。真是狗屎！” 珊曼莎沉默了一阵子，然后开口说： “提摩西，请你再帮我倒杯洒。” 她穿了一条紧身斜纹布牛仔裤，黑色翻领运动衫，头发放下来，光着大脚，腰间系了一条很宽的皮带。他们两个在床垫上做爱，就像两个角力者。 “那么，”她说，啜了一口酒：“你又发现了些什么？” “我告诉你一件事，”他说：“上次我归还了爱德华有关克洛维斯公司的档案，但是我把爱德华私人笔记抽了出来。” 他递给她，她仔细看着用绿笔画的字。 “DUM？”她说：“这是什么意思？” “我不知道，会计主任西奈也搞不懂。现在，我想DUM可能是'dummy'的简写，新世界公司是家空头公司。我调查的结果，也有同感。” "How do you say that?" “这家公司成立十四个月，可是什么动静也没有，也不接任何生意，那些大卡车和挖土机从来没动过，一点灰尘也没有。外面铺的柏油路也干干净浄，仓库空着，可是克洛维斯却在这家公司投资了一亿三千五百万美元，为什么？我不知道。但是，我相信爱德华已经发现了什么。” “天啊，你知道你在说些什么吗？”珊曼莎问道。 “我当然知道，克洛维斯一定干了什么阴谋，才会把爱德华除去。” She shook her head. “我不相信，克洛维斯一家人都是好人，他们经常捐钱给纽约的慈善事业，还建造免费停车场。这么好的人，做这么多善事，会是杀人凶手吗？你怎么能一口咬定？” “我说这话很有把握。”他说。 She sighed. “好吧，就算你是对的。下一步我们该怎么做？” “首先，我们在星期一早上和老板谈谈，要他说服艾萨克，和克洛维斯公司的交易暂时缓一缓，等我们完全调査出来再说。 “第二椿，乔伊病好，星期一会回来上班，暂时让他接我以前的工作，我专办克洛维斯这案子，还要再继续调査。” “说不定你也会被谋杀。” “可能。”提摩西偷快地说。 中午，她带了两包火腿，还有自己做的一大碗色拉，两个人在提摩西的阁楼里，一直吃到下午三点钟。他们丢了一些东西到地上给猫吃。 “这只猫是只很疯狂的动物。”提摩西说。 “像你啊！”珊曼莎说。 这两个人都是很内向的人，他们就是无法肉麻兮兮地说：“我爱你”这一类的话，反而喜欢维持这种表面冷淡的交情，而且经常互相磨牙，唇枪舌战，就像两名战士，互相咒骂着对方，随时准备扔出手榴弹。 他们却不否认彼此之间性的欲求，在床垫上猛烈地需索着对方。克丽奥蹲在一旁，睁大了眼睛看着。 “我们现在要做什么？”她低语着。 “你说嘛，”他说：“你是老板啊。” 两人都是瘦子，身上没多少肉。疯狂交欢，一遍又一遍进行着狂烈野蛮的动作，最后两人都筋疲力尽了。 这甜蜜的角力不止歇斯底里，而且相当狂野。他们想忘了这个世界，可是仍有些事挂在心里。 “提摩西，”她温柔地摸着他的脸颊。“得小心点。” 他把脸埋在她小小的乳房上。 “我一直很小心。”他说。 “天啊！”她说：“你连胡子都不刮啊！” 星期天早上，提摩西第一件事，就是去找老板的秘书要两把汽车钥匙其中的一把。 “你要车子干什么？”她严厉地问。 “我要驾车去乡下转一转，看看树叶有没有变色。” “你不能用那辆英派拉，老板今天要用。你只能开'丰田'，可是中午就得归还。” 他皱起眉头，想了好一会儿。 “好……好吧，”他终于说道，“我就开那辆丰田吧。” “十二点以前一定回来。”她叮咛着，把钥匙扔给他。 “如果回不来呢？”他问。“车子会变成南瓜吗？” 接着他去同事索尔·费伯的办公室，向他借了一个双目望远镜，答应绝不会弄坏，归还时一定完好如初。然后他走到车库，去开那辆“丰田”。 他花了一个多小时，才驾车开到“新世界企业公司”，当他到时，看来和上回全然一样。几辆卡车和挖土机停在仓库外面，看不出里面有人活动。提摩西认为他绝不会遗漏任何一点。 他停车在西街，拿起望远镜，看着新世界的大门，然后把望远镜放在一边，拿起“纽约时报”来看，不时抬起头看看有没有人进去。 十一点十五分左右，有一个女人走进新世界的大门，提摩西连忙拿起望远镜，看着守卫让她进去。她走过柏油路面，办公室的门没有锁。提摩西看她大约五呎三吋，一百二十磅，三十八岁左右，黑发，黄褐色皮肤，穿得很差，带了一个牛皮纸袋，里面可能是她的午餐。 十分钟后，一部银色的“里贝珑”开来了，停在大门口。提摩西拿起望远镜，看不淸驾车的是什么人，但他倒淸楚看到汽车的牌照号码，大声重复一遍，免得忘掉。 那辆“里贝珑”驶进大门，开过柏油路面，停在办公室门口。只见车里的人下来，走进办公室，提摩西只看到那人个子很大。 他驾车回曼哈顿，然后把丰田汽车的钥匙交给老板的秘书。 “你迟到了一个多小时。”她指责他。 他很惊愕地看着她。 “你还以日光节约时间计算吗？” 他把望远镜还给索尔，然后回到自己的办公室去，坐在椅子上，把双腿架在桌上，想着下一步该怎么办。 他一直坐在椅子上，已经抽完今天第五根香烟了。当珊曼莎出现在门口时，她手上拿着一个白色的信封扔给他。 “猜猜这是什么？”她说。 “我怎么猜得出来那里面是什么。”他说。 “说来你一定会很高兴的，”她说：“正巧克洛维斯家要召开记者招待会，并举行鸡尾酒会。克洛维斯公司宣称有一项大计划，要拆掉西区码头那一带的旧房子，沿河造一个游乐场，他们也邀了老板，他不想去，把这招待券给了我，我也不想去，所以又给了你，你去可以看到所有克洛维斯家的人。” 他心里明白，珊曼莎其实在帮他的忙，他不知该怎么感激她。 “非常谢谢。”他说。 她把那份邀请函扔到桌上，就转身走了，好像那不算什么。他没拆开那信封，往最上面的抽屉一塞，倒瞧见纽约市警探的名片正放在那儿，上面写着尼尔·达文波特。 他拨号码，铃响八声，那一端接起电话。 “达文波特。” “我是提摩西·柯恩，哈德林公司调查员，上次你跟我提到爱德华·葛佛的死。” “呃，是啊，我记得你，现在怎么样？” “还好。你们可有进一步发现吗？” “没有，什么也没有。这些事需要花时间的，你也知道嘛，你有没有什么消息要告诉我？” “倒没有，打电话给你想请你帮忙。” “呃？有什么事？” “我抄了一个车号，希望请你查查这是谁的车子。” “我干嘛要去查车子？” “到时你就会明白。” 提摩西说着，朝电话笑了起来。 尼尔·达文波特也大笑。 “小伙子，这是不是和爱德华·葛佛的死有关。” "you could put it that way." He paused. “好吧，把车号告诉我，我会尽力去查的。” 提摩西把那车号报了两遍，确定尼尔·达文波特没听错。 “我查到了会回你电话。”这位纽约警探说着，挂了电话。 这天，其他的时间，他都和刚痊愈回来上班的黑人调查员乔伊·华盛顿在一起，他接手提摩西过去调査的案子，提摩西则专心调查洛克维斯公司。 乔伊·华盛顿很有幽默感，有时出语很讽刺，他曾经说：“我并不是黑人，是有颜色的人种。” “乔伊，”提摩西说：“我希望你不要认为接我以前的案子是一种侮辱。” “我是有点不高兴。”乔伊说。 “刚刚复元回到真实世界来，这也算一个过渡期嘛。” 他们商讨了许多案子，有买断、合并，或不友善的接管，花了好几个小时交接。讨论完，他们吃了汉堡和可乐。乔伊·华盛顿知道这些案子都没什么大问题。 “关于爱德华·葛佛……”他很困难的说：“究竟是为了什么？” “没有人知道。”提摩西说。 “他是一个好人，”乔伊说：“我跟他借五块美金，他问都不问为什么就把钱给我。我还他的时候，他只是说：'谢谢！'然后就把钱塞到口袋里，好像也不惊讶我会把钱还给他。提摩西，我听说你在调査他以前接手的案子。” 提摩西点点头。 “你认为，爱德华是被人谋害的？” "It's possible." “如果你需要一个有经验的帮手，就来找我。” “我会来找你。” 提摩西回到他自己的办公室，又打开了第二包香烟，这时电话响了起来。 “是提摩西·柯恩吗。” "yes." “我是尼尔·逹文波特。你给我的车牌号码……” "How about it?" “我想最好不要在电话里谈。” “好吧，”提摩西说：“那么我们约在哪儿？酒吧？还是餐厅？” “这都不好。”尼尔·达文波特说。 “呃，这样吧！我住在百老汇一个阁楼里，你就到我那儿喝一杯吧！” “这很不错，我有你的住址。” “你从哪弄来的？” “哈德林公司你私人档案。我六点去你那儿，如何？” "it is good." “如果我迟到了，”尼尔·达文波特说：“你就等等。” “我会等。” 他走路回家，偶尔去看看路边商店的橱窗。橱窗里的东西，他既不需要也不想要。他知道，自己有很多坏毛病，就是没有虚荣心。也许，有点虚荣心并无不好。 他在一家珠宝店停下脚步，看上一条珠子滚圆厚重的项链，黑檀木的珠子和水晶珠子互相交错，珊曼莎戴上这条项錬，一定非常漂亮。 他没有买过任何礼物给她，也许，这有损他们之间的特别关系。或许，会变得更坏，或许，会变得更好，但他害怕冒险一试。 回到家，他给克丽奥换上新鲜的水，还有一些他和珊曼莎吃的剩菜。克丽奥把所有剩下的鸡翅膀都吃光了，皮、骨、肉全没剩下一点儿。这只猫，恐怕连钢锚都可以吃进肚子里面。克丽奥打着饱嗝，舔着自己，整理牠的猫胡子。 达文波特迟到二十分钟，提摩西带他入内。这名警探站在门口，四下看看。 “你住的地方可真寒伧啊，”他说。“浴缸下面有什么东西。” “那是克丽奥，我的猫。” “开玩笑，我看简直像只印度豹。” 提摩西的桌子堆了些乱七八糟的东西，他拉开一张椅子，请警探坐下。 “我有白葡萄酒、伏特加，还有啤酒，”他说：“你喜欢那种酒？” “我要伏特加酒，加冰块。” 两个人一边喝着酒，一边漫无边际地聊着天气、空气污染、缺水、交通拥塞，还有高价的牛肉三明治。 “我们的废话也扯得够多了，”最后尼尔·达文波特说道。他头上仍然戴着那顶软呢帽，因为克丽奥到处走来走去，他简直没地方放帽子。“你从那儿抄来的车号？” “那是雅的车子？”提摩西反问。 两人互相凝视。 提摩西看着眼前的胖家伙，一面嚼着口香糖，一边喝伏特加。尼尔·达文波特面对着一个不修边幅的家伙。两人的目光都淸澈精悍，提摩西相信这警探会说出来。 “你瞧，”他对着这名警探说：“我们一直在玩游戏，现在暂退一步停止吧！” "You have a point." “哈德林公司不会无故去揭人隐私，我们接受客户付的钱为他们调查。我们查为什么这两家公司要合并，合法吗？为什么有些公司会疯狂的买股票。我们试着去证实这些消息，好让我们的客户能够下决定。有时我们告诉他们坏的消息，但是他们仍然要豁下去。你明白吗？” "I know that." “我现在要告诉你，”提摩西说“我俩并不是彼此竞争，我们从事的都是机密的工作。现在我接手爱德华正在调査的案子。” 他描述这案子的前因后果，艾氏父子公司和克洛维斯公司之间的交易，但他并没有提爱德华写的那个“DUM”，以及新世界企业公司，也许，新世界企业公司真的是一个空头公司。他只是说正在查克洛维斯公司的子公司。他告诉这名警探，去过位于布鲁克林的新世界企业公司的总部，觉得不大对劲。 “怎么不对劲？”尼尔·达文波特问。 “因为那儿太干浄了。”提摩西说：“许多卡车和挖土机，看来崭新的，全然没动过，纪录上也査不出他们接过任何工程，而十四个月以前，他们却为这家公司投资了一亿三千五百万资本。 “我在那儿偷看到一个身躯硕大的家伙，开了一辆银色的'里贝珑'，因此我记下这辆车的车号。” 警探想了想。 “嗯，”他说：“我想，你告诉我的都是实话，虽然未必是百分之百的实话。我查出你那辆车子的车主是安东尼·布纳，你听过这个名字吗？” "No." “他倒还小有名气，不过不是什么好名声就是了。他不是西西里人，甚至不是意大利人，他是科西嘉人。不过，他犯的不是抢劫银行、绑架人质，或诸如此类的事。我们这位安东尼太精了，这家伙受过良好教育，是个企管硕士，他干的都是些逃税、诈欺之类的事。” “这也触犯了联邦法律。”提摩西说。 “的确如此。”尼尔·达文波特同意地说道：“联邦调査员抓过他两次，可是都不能将他治罪。我告诉过你，这家伙精得很，非常会钻法律的漏洞。” “这是白领阶级犯罪，纽约警察局也有兴趣吗？” “是的，就某方面来说，我们是很想缉拿安东尼的。虽然他不属于犯罪集团，但跟他们都有关连，他渉嫌以不法手段弄绿卡给外国人，赚取利润，因为我们纽约警探钉上他，他现在不干这种事了。我们也有一年没听到他的消息，甚至不知道他躲在那儿。你告诉我这个车号，我才査出，这辆车是他的。” “一年？”提摩西皱起了眉头。“新世界企业公司成立在十四个月以前，这倒有意思！” “是啊！”尼尔·达文波特也笑了起来。“可不是，明天我会打电话告诉你他最近的住址。现在，安东尼没有任何罪证，我们警察无法缉拿他，但我们很想比联邦调査局的人抢先一步钉住他。如果你能协助我们，我们会像在泥沼里打滚的猪一样高兴。你何不跟踪这家伙？也许他现在正在搞什么鬼。” “你在利用我？”这位华尔街的侦探说道。 “这不也是你的工作吗？你岂不也要为你的委托人调查？我们是合作，这样说不公平，可不是吗？” “当然，”提摩西说：“这很公平。” 尼尔·达文波特一口喝干他的伏加特，然后起身离去。 “谢谢你的酒，明天我会打电话告诉你安东尼的住址，我还会再试着査出他一点底细。此外，你得小心点，他可能会用玩具枪抵着你的背，多注意背后。” “是。”提摩西说。 “你都带枪吗？” “有，绑在足胫上。” 达文波特大笑。 “你是侦