iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第39章

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　Charlie　stares。　〃Are　you　even　hearing　us？〃
　But　there　are　sides　to　this　that　Charlie　doesn't　understand。　He　doesn't　know　what　it　means　that　Taft　has　been　hiding　the　blueprint　all　along。
　〃I'm　this　close　to　having　it　in　my　hands；　Charlie；〃　Paul　says。　〃All　I　have　to　do　is　stand　up　for　what　I've　found。　And　you're　telling　me　to　go　home？〃
　〃Look；〃　Charlie　begins；　〃I'm　just　saying　we　need　to…〃
　But　I　interrupt。　〃Paul；　we'll　e　with　you。〃
　〃What？〃　Charlie　says。
　〃e　on。〃　I　open　the　passenger　door。
　Paul　turns；　not　expecting　this。
　〃If　he's　going　with　or　without　us；〃　I　say　to　Charlie　under　my　breath；　leaning　back　into　the　car；　〃then　I'm　going　too。〃
　Paul　begins　walking　toward　McCosh　as　Charlie　considers　his　position。
　〃Taft　can't　do　anything　if　there　are　three　of　us；〃　I　say。　〃You　know　that。〃
　Charlie　exhales　slowly；　sending　a　cloud　of　steam　into　the　air。　Finally　he　makes　a　space　for　the　car　in　the　snow　and　pulls　the　keys　from　the　ignition。
　　
　The　walk　to　Taft's　office　takes　an　eternity；　pacing　up　to　the　gray　edifice　in　the　snow。　The　room　lies　in　the　bowels　of　McCosh；　where　the　hallways　are　so　cramped　and　the　stairs　are　so　steep；　we　have　to　descend　single　file。　It's　hard　to　believe　Vincent　Taft　can　breathe　in　here；　let　alone　move。　Even　I　get　the　sensation　of　being　too　big　for　the　place。　Charlie　must　feel　like　he's　trapped。
　I　look　back；　just　to　make　sure　he's　still　there。　The　sight　of　him　behind　us；　filling　the　doorways　and　covering　our　backs；　gives　me　enough　confidence　to　keep　moving。　I　realize　now　what　I　was　too　bluff　to　admit　before：　if　Charlie　hadn't　e　with　us；　I　couldn't　have　gone　through　with　this。
　Paul　leads　us　down　a　final　hallway；　toward　the　single　room　at　the　end。　Because　of　the　weekend　and　the　holiday；　every　other　office　is　locked　up　and　dark。　Only　beneath　the　white　door　bearing　the　placard　of　Taft's　name　do　I　see　the　rich　glow　of　light。　The　paint　on　the　door　is　chipped；　curling　over　itself　near　the　edge；　where　it　closes　into　the　jamb。　On　the　bottom　of　the　panel　is　a　faint　line　of　discoloration；　the　high…water　mark　of　an　old　flood　from　the　steam　tunnels　coiled　just　beneath　the　basement　floor；　a　stain　unpainted　since　Taft's　arrival　in　the　time　before　time。
　Paul　raises　his　hand　to　knock；　when　a　voice　es　from　inside。　〃You're　late；〃　Taft　growls。
　The　knob　squeaks　when　Paul　turns　it。　I　feel　Charlie　bump　up　against　my　back。
　〃Go　on；〃　he　whispers；　pushing　me　forward。
　Taft　is　sitting　alone　behind　a　great　antique　desk；　sunken　into　a　leather　chair。　He　has　thrown　his　tweed　coat　over　the　back　of　the　chair；　and　with　shirtsleeves　rolled　up　to　his　forearms；　he　is　proofing　manuscript　pages　with　a　red　pen　that　looks　tiny　in　his　fist。
　〃Why　are　they　here？〃　he　demands。
　〃Give　me　the　blueprint；〃　Paul　says；　ing　right　to　the　point。
　Taft　looks　at　Charlie；　then　at　me。　〃Sit　down；〃　he　says；　pointing　toward　a　pair　of　chairs　with　two　thick　fingers。
　I　glance　around；　trying　to　ignore　him。　Wooden　bookshelves　line　the　tiny　office　on　all　sides；　covering　the　white　walls。　Trails　run　through　the　dust　on　their　surfaces　where　volumes　have　been　dragged　off　to　be　read。　There　is　a　path　worn　in　the　carpet　where　Taft　walks　from　the　door　to　his　desk。
　〃Sit；〃　Taft　repeats。
　Paul　is　about　to　refuse；　when　Charlie　nudges　him　into　the　chair；　wanting　to　get　this　over　with。
　Taft　balls　a　rag　in　his　hand　and　wipes　his　mouth　with　it。　〃Tom　Sullivan；〃　he　says；　the　resemblance　finally　occurring　to　him。
　I　nod；　but　say　nothing。　There's　an　old　pillory　on　the　wall　above　his　head；　mounted　with　its　jaws　open。　The　only　hint　of　light　or　color　in　the　room　is　the　red　morocco　of　book　bindings　and　the　gold　of　gilt　pages。
　〃Leave　him　alone；〃　Paul　says；　sitting　forward。　〃Where's　the　blueprint？〃
　I'm　surprised　how　strong　he　sounds。
　Taft　tuts；　bringing　a　cup　of　tea　to　his　mouth。　There's　an　unpleasant　look　in　his　eyes；　as　if　he's　waiting　for　one　of　us　to　put　up　a　fight。　Finally；　he　rises　from　the　leather　chair；　forces　the　sleeves　of　his　shirt　up　higher；　and　plods　over　to　a　space　in　the　bookshelves　where　a　safe　has　been　built　into　the　wall。　He　spins　the　bination　with　a　hairy　hand；　then　pulls　the　lever　and　swings　the　door　on　its　hinges。　Reaching　inside；　he　produces　a　leather　notebook。
　〃Is　that　it？〃　Paul　says　faintly。
　When　Taft　opens　it　and　hands　something　to　Paul；　though；　it's　only　a　typed　piece　of　Institute　stationery；　dated　two　weeks　ago。
　〃I　want　you　to　know　where　things　stand；〃　Taft　says。　〃Read　it。〃
　When　I　see　the　effect　the　paper　has　on　Paul；　I　lean　over　to　read　it　as　well。
　
　Dean　Meadows：
　
　Pursuant　to　our　conversation　of　12　March　regarding　Paul　Harris；　herewith　the　additional　information　you　requested。　As　you　know；　Mr。　Harris　petitioned　for　several　extensions；　and　has　been　highly　secretive　concerning　the　content　of　his　work。　Only　when；　at　my　insistence；　he　submitted　a　final　progress　report　last　week；　did　I　understand　why。　Enclosed　please　find　a　copy　of　my　uping　article；　〃Unveiling　the　Mystery：　Francesco　Colonna　and　the　Hypnerotomachia　Poliphili；　〃　tentatively　scheduled　for　fall　publication　in　Renaissance　Quarterly。　Also　enclosed　is　a　copy　of　Mr。　Harris's　progress　report；　for　the　purposes　of　parison。　Please　contact　me　with　any　further　inquiries。
　
　Sincerely；　
　Dr。　Vincent　Taft
　
　We're　speechless。
　The　ogre　turns　to　Charlie　and　me。　〃I've　worked　on　this　for　thirty　years；〃　he　says；　a　strange　evenness　in　his　voice。　〃Now　the　results　don't　even　bear　my　name。　You　have　never　been　grateful　to　me；　Paul。　Not　when　I　introduced　you　to　Steven　Gelbman。　Not　when　you　received　special　access　to　the　Rare　Books　Room。　Not　even　when　I　granted　you　multiple　extensions　on　your　ineffectual　work。　Never。〃
　Paul　is　too　stunned　to　respond。
　〃I　won't　have　you　take　this　from　me；〃　Taft　continues。　〃I've　waited　too　long。〃
　〃They　have　my　other　progress　reports；〃　Paul　stutters。　〃They　have　Bill's　records。〃
　〃They've　never　seen　a　progress　report　from　you；〃　Taft　says；　opening　a　drawer　and　pulling　out　a　sheaf　of　forms。　〃And　they　certainly　don't　have　Bill's　records。〃
　〃They'll　know　it　wasn't　yours。　You　haven't　published　anything　on　Francesco　in　twenty…five　years。　You　don't　even　work　on　the　Hypnerotomachia　anymore。〃
　Taft　pulls　at　his　beard。　〃Renaissance　Quarterly　has　seen　three　preliminary　drafts　of　my　article。　And　I've　received　several　calls　of　congratulation　on　my　lecture　last　night。〃
　Remembering　the　dates　on　Stein's　letters；　I　see　the　long　provenance　of　this　idea；　the　months　of　suspicion　between　Stein　and　Taft　over　who　would　steal　Paul's　research　first。
　〃But　he　has　his　conclusions；〃　I　say；　when　it　doesn't　seem　to　dawn　on　Paul。　〃He　hasn't　told　anyone。〃
　I　expect　Taft　to　react　badly；　but　he　seems　amused。　〃Conclusions　so　soon；　Paul？〃　he　says。　〃To　what　do　we　attribute　this　sudden　success？〃
　He　knows　about　the　diary。
　〃You　let　Bill　find　it；〃　Paul　says。
　〃You　still　don't　know　what　he　found；〃　I　insist。
　〃And　you；〃　Taft　says；　turning　to　me；　〃are　as　deluded　as　your　father　was。　If　a　boy　can　puzzle　out　the　meaning　of　that　diary；　you　think　I　can't？〃
　Paul　is　dazed；　eyes　darting　around　the　room。
　〃My　father　thought　you　were　a　fool；〃　I　say。
　〃Your　father　died　waiting　for　a　Muse　to　whisper　in　his　ear。〃　He　laughs。　〃Scholarship　is　rigor；　not　inspiration。　He　never　listened　to　me；　and　he　suffered　for　it。〃
　〃He　was　right　about　that　book。　You　were　wrong。〃
　Hatred　dances　in　Taft's　eyes。　〃I　know　what　he　did；　boy。　You　shouldn't　be　so　proud。〃
　I　glance　over　at　Paul；　not　understanding；　but　he's　taken　several　steps　away　from　the　desk；　toward　the　bookshelf。
　Taft　leans　forward。　〃Can　you　blame　him？　Failed；　disgraced。　The　rejection　of　his　book　was　the　coup　de　grace。〃
　I　turn　back；　thunderstruck。
　〃And　he　did　it　with　his　own　son　in　the　car；〃　Taft　continues。　〃How　pregnant。〃
　〃It　was　an　accident。　。　。　。〃　I　say。
　Taft　smiles；　and　there　are　a　thousand　teeth　in　it。
　I　step　toward　him。　Charlie　puts　a　hand　against　my　chest；　but　I　shake　it　off。　Taft　slowly　rises　from　his　chair。
　〃You　did　it　to　him；〃　I　say；　vaguely　aware　that　I'm　shouting。　Charlie's　hand　is　on　me　again；　but　I　pull　away；　stepping　forward　until　the　edge　of　the　desk　is　knifing　into　my　scar。
　Taft　turns　the　corner；　bringing　himself　into　reach。
　〃He's　goading　you；　Tom；〃　Paul　says　quietly；　from　across　the　room。
　〃He　did　it　to　himself；〃　Taft　says。
　And　the　last　thing　I　remember；　before　pushing　him　as　hard　as　I　can；　is　the　smile　on　his　face。　He　falls；　the　weight　of　him　collapsing　onto　itself；　and　there　is　a　thunder　I　feel　in　the　floorboards。　Everything　seems　to　splinter；　voices　shouting；　sights　blurring；　and　Charlie's　hands　are　on　me　again；　yanking　me　back。
　〃e　on；〃　he　says。
　I　try　to　jerk　free；　but　Charlie's　grip　is　stronger。
　〃e　on；〃　he　repeats　to　Paul；　who's　still　staring　at　Taft　on　the　floor。
　But　it's　too　late。　Taft　staggers　to　his　feet；　then　lumbers　toward　me。
　〃Stay　away　from　him；〃　Charlie　says；　extending　a　hand　in　Taft's　direction。
　Taft　glares　at　me　from　across　the　span　of　Charlie's　arms。　Paul　is　looking　around　the　room；　oblivious　to　them；　searching　for　something。　Finally；　Taft's　senses　return　and　he　reaches　for　the　phone。
　A　stab　of　fear　registers　on　Charlie's　face。　〃Let's　go；〃　he　says；　stepping　back。　〃Now。〃
　Taft　punches　three　numbers；　ones　Charlie　has　seen　too　often　to　mistake。　〃Police；〃　he　says；　staring　directly　at　me。　〃Please　e　immediately。　I'm　being　attacked　in　my　office。〃
　Charlie　is　pushing　me　out　the　door。　〃Go；〃　he　says。
　Just　then；　Paul　darts　over　to　the　open　safe　and　pulls　out　the　balance　of　what　remains　inside。　Then　he　starts　pulling　papers　and　books　from　the　shelves；　uprooting　bookends；　turning　over　everything　in　his　reach。　When　he's　got　a　pile　of　Taft's　papers　in　hand；　he　backs　away　and　dashes　out　the　door；　without　so　much　as　a　glance　at　Charlie　or　me。
　We　bolt　after　him。　The　last　thing　I　hear　from　the　office　is　the　sound　of　Taft　on　the　phone；　announcing　our　names　to　the　police。　His　voice　carries　through　the　open　door；　echoing　down　the　hallway。
　　
　We　dart　through　the　corridor　to　the　dark　cellar　stairs；　when　a　rush　of　cold　descends　from　overhead。　Two　campus　police　officers　have　arrived　at　the　foot　of　the　steps　on　the　ground　floor　above　us。
　〃Stay　right　there！〃　one　of　them　calls　down　the　narrow　staircase。
　We　stop　short。
　〃Campus　police！　Don't　move！〃
　Paul　is　looking　over　my　shoulder　toward　the　far　end　of　the　hall；　clutching　the　papers　in　his　left　hand。
　〃Do　what　they　say；〃　Charlie　tells　him。
　But　I　know　what's　caught　Paul's　eye。　There's　a　janitor's　closet　down　there。　Inside　is　an　entrance　to　the　tunnels。
　〃It's　not　safe　down　there；〃　Charlie　says　under　his　breath；　edging　toward　Paul　to　keep　him　from　running。　〃They're　doing　construct…〃
　The　proctors　mistake　the　movement　for　flight；　and　one　es　barreling　down　the　stairs；　just　as　Paul　makes　for　the　door。
　〃Stop！〃　the　proctor　cries。　〃Don't　go　in　there！〃
　But　Paul　is　already　at　the　entrance；　pulling　the　wood　panel　open。　He　disappears　inside。
　Charlie　doesn't　hesitate。　Before　either　of　the　cops　knows　it；　he's　two　steps　ahead；　moving　fast　toward　the　door。　I　hear　a　thud　as　he　jumps　to　the　tunnel　floor；　trying　to　stop　Paul。　Then　his　voice；　shouting　Paul's　name；　echoes　up　from　below。
　〃e　out！〃　the　proctor　booms；　nudging　me　forward。
　The　officer　leans　in　and