df.theedge-第5部分
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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
