df.theedge-第5部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

to　emerge　from　the　worried　man；　waited　for　him　to　unfold　the　plan　of　campaign。
　　He　surprised　me；　however；　by　saying；　'I　didn't　think　you'd　stick　this　job　this　long。'
　　'Why　not？'
　　'You　know　damn　well　why　not。　You're　not　dim。　Clement　told　me　the　pile　your　father　left　you　simply　multiplied　itself　for　twenty　years；　growing　like　a　mushroom。　And　still　does。　Like　a　whole　field　of　mushrooms。　Why　aren't　you　out　there　picking　them？'
　　I　sat　back　in　my　chair　wondering　what　to　say。　I　knew　very　well　why　I　didn't　pick　them；　but　I　wasn't　sure　it　would　sound　sensible。
　　'Go　on；'　he　said。　'I　need　to　know。'
　　I　glanced　at　his　intent　eyes　and　sensed　his　concentration；　and　realized　suddenly　that　he　might　mean　in　some　obscure　way　to　base　the　future　plan　on　my　answer。
　　'It　isn't　so　easy；'　I　said　slowly；　'and　don't　laugh；　it　really　isn't　so　easy　to　be　able　to　afford　anything　you　want。　Short　of　the　Crown　Jewels　and　trifles　like　that。　Well。。。　I　don't　find　it　easy。　I'm　like　a　child　loose　in　a　sweet　shop。　I　could　eat　and　eat。。。　and　make　myself　sick。。。　and　greedy。。。　and　a　jellyfish。　So　I　keep　my　hands　off　the　sweets　and　occupy　my　time　following　crooks。　Is　that　any　sort　of　answer？'
　　He　grunted　nonmittally。　'How　strong　is　the　temptation？'
　　'On　freezing　cold　days　in　sleet　and　wind　at　say　Doncaster　races；　very　strong　indeed。　At　Ascot　in　the　sunshine　I　don't　feel　it。'
　　'Be　serious；'　he　said。　'Put　it　another　way。　How　strong　is　your　mitment　to　the　Security　Service？'
　　'They're　really　two　different　things；'　I　said。　'I　don't　pick　too　many　mushrooms　because　I　want　to　retain　order。。。　to　keep　my　feet　well　planted。　Mushrooms　can　be　hallucinogenic；　after　all。　I　work　for　you；　for　the　Service；　rather　than　in　banking　or　farming　and　so　on；　because　I　like　it　and　I'm　not　all　that　bad　at　what　I　do；　really；　and　it's　useful；　and　I'm　not　terribly　good　at　twiddling　my　thumbs。　I　don't　know　that　I'd　die　for　you。　Is　that　what　you　want？'
　　His　lips　twitched。　He　said；　'Fair　enough。　How　do　you　feel　about　danger　nowadays？　I　know　you　did　risky　enough　things　on　your　travels。'
　　After　a　brief　pause；　I　said；　'What　sort　of　danger？'
　　'Physical；　I　suppose。'　He　rubbed　a　thumb　and　forefinger　down　his　nose　and　looked　at　me　with　steady　eyes。　'Perhaps。'
　　'What　do　you　want　me　to　do？'
　　We　had　e　to　the　point　of　the　meeting；　but　he　backed　away　from　it　still。
　　I　knew　in　a　way　that　it　was　because　of　what　he'd　called　the　mushrooms　that　he'd　grown　into　the　way　of　speaking　to　me　as　he　did；　proposing　but　seldom　giving　straight　orders。　He　would　have　been　more　forthright　if　I'd　been　a　junior　army　officer　in　uniform。　Millington；　who　didn't　know　about　the　mushrooms；　could　uninhibitedly　boss　me　around　like　a　sergeant…major；　and　did　so　pretty　sharply　under　pressure。
　　Millington　mostly　called　me　Kelsey　and　only　occasionally；　on　good　days；　Tor。　（'Tor？　What　sort　of　name　is　that？'　he'd　demanded　at　the　beginning。　'Short　for　Torquil；'　I　said。　'Torquil？　Huh。　I　don't　blame　you。　'）　He　always　referred　to　himself　as　Millington　（'Millington　here；'　when　he　telephoned）　and　that　was　how　I　thought　of　him：　he　had　never　asked　me　to　call　him　John。　I　supposed　that　a　man　who　had　served　in　a　strongly　hierarchical　organization　for　a　long　time　found　surnames　natural。
　　The　Brigadier's　attention　still　seemed　to　be　focused　on　the　glass　he　was　slowly　revolving　in　his　hands；　but　finally　he　put　it　down　precisely　in　the　centre　of　a　beer　mat　as　if　ing　to　a　precise　conclusion　in　his　thoughts。
　　'I　had　a　telephone　call　yesterday　from　my　counterpart　in　the　Canadian　Jockey　Club。'　He　paused　again。　'Have　you　ever　been　to　Canada？'
　　'Yes；'　I　said。　'Once；　for　a　while；　for　maybe　three　months；　mostly　in　the　west。　Calgary。。。　Vancouver。。。　I　went　up　by　boat　from　there　to　Alaska。'
　　'Did　you　go　to　the　races　in　Canada？'
　　'Yes；　a　few　times；　but　it　must　be　about　six　years　ago　。。。　and　I　don't　know　anyone　'　I　stopped；　puzzled；　not　knowing　what　kind　of　response　he　wanted。
　　'Do　you　know　about　this　train？'　he　said。　'The　Transcontinental　Mystery　Race　Train？　Ever　heard　of　it？'
　　'Um；'　I　said；　reflecting。　'I　read　something　about　it　the　other　day。　A　lot　of　top　Canadian　owners　are　going　on　a　jolly　with　their　horses；　stopping　to　race　at　tracks　along　the　way。　Is　that　the　one　you　mean？'
　　'It　is　indeed。　But　the　owners　aren't　all　Canadian。　Some　of　them　are　American；　some　are　Australian　and　some　are　British。　One　of　the　British　passengers　is　Julius　Filmer。'
　　'Oh；　'I　said。
　　'Yes；　oh。　The　Canadian　Jockey　Club　has　given　its　blessing　to　the　whole　affair　because　it's　attracting　world…wide　publicity　and　they　are　hoping　for　bumper　attendances；　hoping　to　give　all　Canadian　racing　an　extra　boost。　Yesterday；　my　counterpart；　Bill　Baudelaire；　told　me　he'd　been　talking　with　the　pany　who　are　arranging　everything…they've　had　regular　liaison　meetings；　it　seems…and　he　found　there　was　a　late　addition　to　the　passenger　list；　Julius　Filmer。　Bill　Baudelaire　of　course　knows　all　about　the　conspiracy　fiasco。　He　wanted　to　know　if　there　wasn't　some　way　we　could　keep　the　undesirable　Mr　Filmer　off　that　prestigious　train。　Couldn't　we　possibly　declare　him　persona　non　grata　on　all　racetracks；　including　and　especially　Canadian。　I　told　him　if　we'd　had　any　grounds　to　warn　Filmer　off　we'd　have　done　it　already；　but　the　man　was　acquitted。　We　can't　be　seen　to　disgrace　him　when　he's　been　declared　not　guilty；　we'd　be　in　all　sorts　of　trouble。　We　can't　warn　him　off　for　buying　two　horses　from　Gideon。　These　days；　we　can't　just　warn　him　off　because　we　want　to；　he　can　only　be　warned　off　for　transgressing　against　the　rules　of　racing。'
　　All　the　frustrated　fury　of　the　Jockey　Club　vibrated　in　his　voice。　He　wasn't　a　man　to　take　impotence　lightly。
　　'Bill　Baudelaire　knows　all　that；　of　course；'　he　went　on。　'He　said　if　we　couldn't　get　Filmer　off　the　train；　would　we　please　get　one　of　our　grandees　on。　Although　the　whole　thing　is　sold　out；　he　twisted　the　arms　of　the　promoters　to　say　they　would　let　him　have　one　extra　ticket；　and　he　wanted　one　of　our　Stewards；　or　one　of　the　Jockey　Club　department　heads；　or　me　myself；　to　go　along　conspicuously；　so　that　Filmer　would　know　he　was　being　closely　watched　and　would　refrain　from　any　sins　he　had　in　mind。'
　　'Are　you　going？'　I　asked；　fascinated。
　　'No；　I'm　not。　You　are。'
　　'Um。。。'　I　said　a　shade　breathlessly；　'I　hardly　fit　the　bill。'
　　'I　told　Bill　Baudelaire；'　the　Brigadier　said　succinctly；　'that　I　would　send　him　a　passenger　Filmer　didn't　know。　One　of　my　men。　Then　if　Filmer　does　try　anything；　and　after　all　it's　a　big　if；　we　might　have　a　real　chance　of　finding　out　how　and　what；　and　catching　him　at　it。'
　　My　God；　I　thought。　So　simple；　put　like　that。　So　absolutely　impossible　of　performance。
　　I　swallowed。　'What　did　Mr　Baudelaire　say？'
　　'I　talked　him　into　agreeing。　He's　expecting　you。'
　　I　blinked。
　　'Well；'　the　Brigadier　said；　'not　you　by　name。　Someone。　Someone　fairly　young；　I　said；　but　experienced。　Someone　who　wouldn't　seem　out　of　place。。。'　his　teeth　gleamed　briefly　'。。。　on　the　millionaires'　express。'
　　'But'　I　said；　and　stopped　dead；　my　mind　full　of　urgent　reservations　and　doubts　that　I　was　good　enough　for　a　job　like　that。　Yet　on　the　other　hand；　what　a　lark。
　　'Will　you　go？'　he　asked。
　　'Yes；'　I　said。
　　He　smiled。　'I　hoped　you　might。'
　　Brigadier　Catto；　who　lived　ninety　miles　from　London　in　Newmarket；　was　staying　overnight；　as　he　often　did；　in　a　fortable　bedroom　upstairs　in　the　club。　I　left　him　in　the　bar　after　a　while　and　drove　the　last　half…mile　home　to　where　I　lived　in　a　quiet　residential　street　in　Kennington。
　　I　had　looked　in　that　district　for　somewhere　to　put　down　a　few　roots　on　the　grounds　that　I　wouldn't　be　bothered　to　use　the　club　much　if　I　lived　on　the　other　side　of　London。　Kennington；　south　of　the　Thames；　rubbing　shoulders　with　the　grittiness　of　Lambeth　and　Brixton；　was　not　where　the　racing　crowd　panted　to　be　seen；　and　in　fact　I'd　never　spotted　anyone　locally　that　I　knew　by　sight　on　the　racecourse。
　　I'd　e　across　an　advertisement：　'House　share　available；　for　single　presentable　yuppy。　2　rooms；　bath；　share　kit；　mortgage　and　upkeep。　Call　evenings'；　and　although　I'd　been　thinking　in　terms　of　a　flat　on　my　own；　house　sharing　had　suddenly　seemed　attractive；　especially　after　the　loneliness　of　work。　I'd　presented　myself　by　appointment；　been　inspected　by　the　four　others　in　residence；　and　let　in　on　trial；　and　it　had　all　worked　very　well。
　　The　four　others　were　currently　two　sisters　working　in　publishing　（whose　father　had　originally　bought　the　house　and　set　up　the　running…mortgage　scheme）；　one　junior　barrister　who　tended　to　stutter；　and　an　actor　with　a　supporting　role　in　a　television　series。　The　house　rules　were　simple：　pay　on　the　dot；　show　good　manners　at　all　times；　don't　pry　into　the　others'　business；　and　don't　let　overnight　girl/boy　friends　clog　up　any　of　the　three　bathrooms　for　hours　in　the　morning。
　　There　was　a　fair　amount　of　laughter　and　camaraderie；　but　we　tended　to　share　coffee；　beer；　wine　and　saucepans　more　than　confidences。　I　told　them　I　was　a　dedicated　racegoer　and　no　one　asked　whether　I　won　or　lost。
　　The　actor；　Robbie；　on　the　top　floor；　had　been　of　enormous　use　to　me；　though　I　doubted　he　really　knew　it。　He'd　invited　me　up　for　a　beer