第七节：验尸
Section 7: The Autopsy
港口的火总算被扑灭了，天边泛起一丝灰白，像块脏抹布。打扫战场的活儿交给消防队和一帮新来的警员，我和安德利拖着满身的烟味和疲惫回到市政警察局。局里乱得像被捅了的马蜂窝，电话铃声此起彼伏，走廊上全是跑来跑去的家伙，有的端着咖啡，有的抱着文件，个个眼圈发黑。三区的枪战和桥车爆炸留下了几具尸体，已经被拉到地下室的验尸房，听说还得从港口那堆焦炭里再挖几具出来。
The fire at the port was finally extinguished, and the horizon showed a hint of grayish-white, like a dirty rag. The cleanup was left to the fire department and a group of new officers, while Andrey and I, reeking of smoke and exhausted, returned to the Municipal Police Station. The station was as chaotic as a disturbed beehive, with phones ringing incessantly and the hallways full of people rushing back and forth—some carrying coffee, others clutching files, all with dark circles under their eyes. The gunfight in District Three and the bridge car explosion had left several bodies, which had already been taken to the morgue in the basement. Word was that they still needed to dig a few more out of the charred remains at the port.
我和安德利刚进大厅，就被喊去验尸房"协助"。其实就是站那儿听人分析，顺便递个工具——这活儿我干过不下十次，早就习惯了血腥味儿。下了楼，推开验尸房的门，冷气扑面而来，夹着股消毒水和腐臭混在一起的怪味。屋里站着个男人，五十三岁，是个地中海，身材瘦削，穿着一件皱巴巴的白大褂，戴着副金边眼镜，眼底有两圈淡淡的黑。他叫维克托·伦纳德，市政警察局的法医，二级警长，医科大学博士毕业，在这行里是块金字招牌。
Andrey and I had just entered the lobby when we were called to the morgue to "assist." This really meant standing there listening to the analysis while occasionally handing over tools—a task I'd done at least ten times before and had long since grown accustomed to the smell of blood. Going downstairs and pushing open the morgue door, we were hit by a blast of cold air mixed with the strange smell of disinfectant and decay. Inside stood a man, fifty-three years old, with a balding head, a thin build, wearing a wrinkled white lab coat, gold-rimmed glasses, and faint dark circles under his eyes. His name was Viktor Leonard, the medical examiner for the Municipal Police Station, a Second-Grade Police Captain with a doctorate from medical school, a gold standard in his field.
维克托正低头摆弄一具尸体，手里的解剖刀稳得像在切牛排。他抬头看了我们一眼，嘴角一扯，露出个疲惫又随和的笑："哟，卢卡斯，安德利，又是你们俩。这晚上可够热闹的，送了我一堆活儿。"他声音有点沙哑，带点自嘲的味道，像个看淡生死的哲学家。
Viktor was hunched over a body, his scalpel as steady as if he were cutting a steak. He looked up at us, his lips twitching into a tired but friendly smile: "Well, Lucas, Andrey, it's you two again. Quite a lively evening, sent me a pile of work." His voice was a bit hoarse, with a self-deprecating tone, like a philosopher who had seen beyond life and death.
安德利靠在墙边，点了根烟——这地方明明禁烟，可没人管他——吐了个烟圈回道："这该死的世界，总得有人收拾烂摊子。维克托，你说这帮家伙是哪来的？"维克托没抬头，手上动作不停，淡淡地说："等我把这家伙的胃掏出来检查检查再说，兴许他晚饭吃了什么好东西，能给你们点线索。"
Andrey leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette—despite the no-smoking policy, no one stopped him—blew a smoke ring, and replied: "In this damned world, someone's got to clean up the mess. Viktor, where do you think these guys came from?" Viktor didn't look up, his hands continuing their work as he casually said, "Let me pull out this guy's stomach and check it first. Maybe he had something interesting for dinner that could give you some clues."
我站在旁边，看着他熟练地剖开一具烧得半焦的尸体。那是南门被安德利崩了的家伙，战术背心还挂在身上，肩膀上的弹孔清晰可见。维克托一边切一边嘀咕："子弹是9毫米，穿透力不错，应该是改装过的。装备是军用级别，但有点旧，可能是二手货。"他顿了顿，抬头看了我一眼，"卢卡斯，你不是在查新闻圈的内鬼吗？怎么掺和进这摊子事儿了？"
I stood nearby, watching him skillfully dissect a half-charred body. It was the guy from the southern gate that Andrey had shot, still wearing his tactical vest, with the bullet hole clearly visible on his shoulder. Viktor muttered as he cut: "The bullet is 9mm, with good penetration, probably modified. The equipment is military-grade, but a bit old, possibly second-hand." He paused, looked up at me, "Lucas, weren't you investigating a mole in the news circle? How did you get mixed up in this mess?"
"警力不足，临时被抓壮丁，"我耸耸肩，"再说，这事看着不简单，保不齐，运气好跟内鬼有联系。"维克托哼笑一声，"那你要打一百万个小心，别被内鬼放了黑枪"，低头继续忙活。他这人就这样，理智得像台机器，疲惫得像条瘪了的气球，与世无争却又幽默得让人没法讨厌。局里上上下下都敬他，连莱门斯那老狐狸见了都得客气三分。
"Shortage of manpower, I was drafted as temporary help," I shrugged, "Besides, this doesn't look simple. With luck, it might be connected to the mole." Viktor snorted a laugh, "Then you better be a million times careful, don't get shot in the back by the mole," before continuing his work. That's how he was—rational as a machine, tired as a deflated balloon, indifferent to the world yet humorous enough to be likable. Everyone in the station respected him; even old fox Lemons had to show him some courtesy.
门吱呀一声开了，进来两个家伙。一个是刑警迈克，三十出头，个子不高，皮肤晒得黝黑，脸上总挂着点痞笑，手里拿着一杯咖啡，进来就嚷嚷："维克托，有你忙的了，一线又送来一些证物需要你去做理化分析，这些东西够你干到天亮的。"另一个是托马斯，四十岁左右，高瘦，眼神阴沉，沉默寡言，抱着胳膊站在角落。这俩是刑警队的骨干，迈克嘴碎但脑子活，托马斯冷得像块冰但观察力一流，后头估计少不了他们露脸。
The door creaked open, and two guys walked in. One was Detective Mike, in his early thirties, not tall, with tanned skin, always wearing a somewhat roguish smile, holding a cup of coffee. He burst in shouting: "Viktor, you've got your work cut out for you. The frontline just sent in more evidence for physicochemical analysis, enough to keep you busy till dawn." The other was Thomas, around forty, tall and thin, with a gloomy gaze, taciturn, standing in the corner with folded arms. These two were the backbone of the detective squad—Mike was talkative but quick-witted, while Thomas was cold as ice but had exceptional observational skills. They'd likely be showing up more as this went on.
维克托没理迈克的调侃，从尸体胸口掏出一块烧得皱巴巴的东西，眯眼看了看："哟，这家伙兜里还塞了张纸，可惜烧得不成样子。"他用镊子夹起来递给我，"卢卡斯，你眼神好，瞧瞧能认出啥不？"我接过来，借着冷光灯瞅了半天，只能勉强看出几个模糊的字母——"K…R…S"，像是个人名或者代号。安德利凑过来，皱眉道："这算啥线索？还不如让我再崩几个活的问问。"
Viktor ignored Mike's teasing, pulled out a crumpled, burnt object from the body's chest, and squinted at it: "Well, this guy had a piece of paper stuffed in his pocket, but unfortunately, it's burnt beyond recognition." He used tweezers to pick it up and handed it to me, "Lucas, you've got good eyes. See if you can make anything out?" I took it, examined it under the cold light for a while, and could barely make out a few blurred letters—"K...R...S"—possibly a name or a code. Andrey leaned in, frowning: "What kind of clue is this? I'd rather shoot a few more living ones and ask them directly."
维克托笑了，放下解剖刀，揉了揉太阳穴："线索不线索的，你们自己琢磨。我这儿还有三具等着开膛，忙完得中午了。"他随手扔了块布盖住尸体，转身洗手去了。我盯着那张烧焦的纸，心里又多了个疙瘩。这晚上，死的活的都挤一块儿了，可真相还藏在哪儿，谁也不知道。
Viktor smiled, put down his scalpel, and rubbed his temples: "Clue or not, that's for you to figure out. I've got three more bodies waiting to be opened up. I won't be done until noon." He casually threw a cloth over the body and turned to wash his hands. I stared at the charred paper, feeling another knot form in my gut. Tonight, the dead and the living were all crammed together, but where the truth was hiding, nobody knew.