tc.patriotgames-第102部分

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ever　deviated　from　them。　Not　once。　He　was　sure　of　that。　By　the　time　he　stopped　shaking；　the　bell　rang。
　　　　It　was　Beatrix；　he　saw。　Cooley　grabbed　his　coat。　
　　　　〃Will　you　be　back　later？〃
　　　　〃I'm　not　sure。　I'll　call　you。〃　He　went　right　out　the　door；　leaving　his　clerk　with　a　very　curious　look。

　　　　It　had　taken　ten　minutes　to　locate　James　Owens；　who　was　in　his　car　south　of　London。　The　mander　gave　immediate　orders　to　shadow　Cooley　and　to　arrest　him　if　it　appeared　that　he　was　attempting　to　leave　the　country。　Two　men　were　already　watching　the　man's　car　and　were　ready　to　trail　him。　Two　more　were　sent　to　the　arcade；　but　the　detectives　arrived　just　as　he　walked　out；　and　were　on　the　wrong　side　of　the　street。　One　hopped　out　of　the　car　and　followed；　expecting　him　to　turn　onto　Berkeley　Street　toward　his　travel　agent。　Instead；　Cooley　ducked　into　the　tube　station。　The　detective　was　caught　off　guard　and　raced　down　the　entrance　on　his　side　of　the　street。　The　crowd　of　morning　muters　made　spotting　his　short　target　virtually　impossible。　In　under　a　minute；　the　officer　was　sure　that　his　quarry　had　caught　a　train　that　he　had　been　unable　to　get　close　to。　Cooley　had　escaped。
　　　　The　detective　ran　back　to　the　street　and　put　out　a　radio　call　to　alert　the　police　at　Heathrow　airport；　where　this　underground　line　ended　　Cooley　always　flew；　unless　he　drove　his　own　car　　and　to　get　cars　to　all　the　underground　stations　on　the　Piccadilly　Line。　There　simply　wasn't　enough　time。
　　　　Cooley　got　off　at　the　next　station；　as　his　training　had　taught　him；　and　took　a　cab　to　Waterloo　Station。　There　he　made　a　telephone　call。
　　　　〃Five…five…two…nine；〃　the　voice　answered。
　　　　〃Oh；　excuse　me；　I　was　trying　to　get　six…six…three…zero。　Sorry。〃　There　followed　two　seconds　of　hesitation　on　the　other　side　of　the　connection。
　　　　〃Oh　。　。　。　That's　quite　all　right；〃　the　voice　assured　him　in　a　tone　that　was　anything　but　all　right。
　　　　Cooley　replaced　the　phone　and　walked　to　a　train。　It　was　everything　he　could　do　not　to　look　over　his　shoulder。

　　　　〃This　is　Geoffrey　Watkins；〃　he　said　as　he　lifted　the　phone。
　　　　〃Oh；　I　beg　your　pardon；〃　the　voice　said。　〃I　was　trying　to　get　Mr。　Titus。　Is　this　six…two…nine…one？〃　All　contacts　are　broken　until　further　notice；　the　number　told　him。　Not　known　if　you　are　in　danger。　Will　advise　if　possible。
　　　　〃No；　this　is　six…two…one…nine；〃　he　answered。　Understood。　Watkins　hung　the　phone　up　and　booked　out　his　window。　His　stomach　felt　as　though　a　ball　of　refrigerated　lead　had　materialized　there。　He　swallowed　twice；　then　reached　for　his　tea。　For　the　rest　of　the　morning；　it　was　hard　to　concentrate　on　the　Foreign　Office　white　paper　he　was　reading。　He　needed　two　stiff　drinks　with　lunch　to　settle　himself　down。

　　　　By　noon；　Cooley　was　in　Dover；　aboard　a　cross…channel　ferry。　He　was　fully　alert　now；　and　sat　in　a　corner　seat　on　the　upper　deck；　looking　over　the　newspaper　in　his　hands　to　see　if　anyone　was　watching　him。　He'd　almost　bearded　the　hovercraft　to　Calais；　but　decided　against　it　at　the　last　moment。　He　had　enough　cash　for　the　Dover…Dunkerque　ferry；　but　not　the　more　expensive　hovercraft；　and　he　didn't　want　to　leave　a　paper　trail　behind。　It　was　only　two　and　a　quarter　hours　in　any　case。　Once　in　France；　he　could　catch　a　train　to　Paris；　then　start　flying。　He　started　to　feel　secure　for　the　first　time　in　hours；　but　was　able　to　suppress　it　easily　enough。　Cooley　had　never　known　this　sort　of　fear　before；　and　it　left　a　considerable　aftertaste。　The　quiet　hatred　that　had　festered　for　years　now　ate　at　him　like　an　acid。　They　had　made　him　run。　They　had　spied　on　him！　Because　of　all　his　training；　all　the　precautions　that　he'd　followed　assiduously；　and　all　the　professional　skill　that　he'd　employed；　Cooley　had　never　seriously　considered　the　possibility　that　he　would　be　turned。　He　had　thought　himself　too　skillful　for　that。　That　he　was　wrong　enraged　him；　and　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　he　wanted　to　lash　out　himself。　He'd　lost　his　bookshop　and　with　it　all　the　books　he　loved；　and　this；　too；　had　been　taken　from　him　by　the　bloody　Brits！　He　folded　the　paper　neatly　and　set　it　down　in　his　lap　while　the　ferry　pulled　into　the　English　Channel；　placid　with　the　summer　sun　overhead。　His　bland　face　stared　out　at　the　water　with　a　gaze　as　calm　as　a　man　in　contemplation　of　his　garden　while　he　fantasized　images　of　blood　and　death。

　　　　Owens　was　as　furious　as　anyone　had　ever　seen　him。　The　surveillance　of　Cooley　had　been　so　easy；　so　routine　　but　that　was　no　excuse；　he　told　his　men。　That　harmless…looking　little　poof；　as　Ashley　had　called　him；　had　slipped　away　from　his　shadowers　as　adroitly　as　someone　trained　at　Moscow　Center　itself。　There　were　men　at　every　international　airport　in　Britain　clutching　pictures　of　Cooley；　and　if　he　used　his　credit　card　to　purchase　any　kind　of　ticket；　the　puters　would　notify　Scotland　Yard　at　once；　but　Owens　had　a　sickening　feeling　that　the　man　was　already　out　of　the　country。　The　mander　of　C…13　dismissed　his　people。
　　　　Ashley　was　in　the　room；　too；　and　his　people　had　been　caught　equally　off　guard。　He　and　Owens　shared　a　look　of　anger　mixed　with　despair。
　　　　A　detective　had　left　the　tape　of　a　phone　call　to　Geoffrey　Watkins　made　less　than　an　hour　after　Cooley　disappeared。　Ashley　played　it。　It　lasted　all　of　twenty　seconds。　And　it　wasn't　Cooley's　voice。　If　it　had　been；　they　would　have　arrested　Watkins　then　and　there。　For　all　their　effort；　they　still　did　not　have　a　single　usable　piece　of　evidence　on　Geoffrey　Watkins。
　　　　〃There　is　a　Mr。　Titus　in　the　building。　The　voice　even　gave　the　correct　number。　By　all　rights　it　could　have　been　a　simple　wrong　number。〃　
　　　　〃But　it　wasn't；　of　course。〃
　　　　〃That　is　how　it's　done；　you　know。　You　have　pre…set　messages　that　are　constructed　to　sound　entirely　harmless。　Whoever　trained　these　chaps　knew　what　they　were　about。　What　about　the　shop？〃　
　　　　〃The　girl　Beatrix　knows　absolutely　nothing。　We　have　people　searching　the　shop　at　this　moment；　but　so　far　they've　found　nothing　but　old　bloody　books。　Same　story　at　his　flat。〃　Owens　stood　and　spoke　in　a　voice　full　of　perverse　wonder。　〃An　electrician　。　。　。　Months　of　work；　gone　because　he　yanks　the　wrong　wire。〃
　　　　〃He'll　turn　up。　He　could　not　have　had　a　great　deal　of　cash。　He　must　use　his　credit　card。〃
　　　　〃He's　out　of　the　country　already。　Don't　say　he　isn't。　If　he's　clever　enough　for　what　we　know　he's　done　〃
　　　　〃Yes。〃　Ashley　nodded　reluctant　agreement。　〃One　doesn't　always　win；　James。〃
　　　　〃It　is　so　nice　to　hear　that！〃　Owens　snapped　out　his　reply。　〃These　bastards　have　outguessed　us　every　step　of　the　way。　The　missioner　is　going　to　ask　me　how　it　is　that　we　couldn't　get　our　thumbs　out　in　time；　and　there　is　no　answer　to　that　question。〃
　　　　〃So　what's　the　next　step；　then？〃
　　　　〃At　least　we　know　what　he　looks　like。　We　。　。　。　we　share　what　we　know　with　the　Americans；　all　of　it。　I　have　a　meeting　scheduled　with　Murray　this　evening。　He's　hinted　that　they　have　something　operating　that　he's　not　able　to　talk　about；　doubtless　some　sort　of　CIA　op。〃　
　　　　〃Agreed。　Is　it　here　or　there？〃　
　　　　〃There。〃　Owens　paused。　〃I　am　getting　sick　of　this　place。〃　
　　　　〃mander；　you　should　measure　your　successes　against　your　failures；〃　Ashley　said。　〃You're　the　best　man　we've　had　in　this　office　in　some　years。〃
　　　　Owens　only　grunted　at　that　remark。　He　knew　it　was　true。　Under　his　leadership；　C…13　had　scored　major　coups　against　the　Provisionals。　But　in　this　job；　as　in　so　many　others；　the　question　one's　superiors　always　asked　was；　What　have　you　acplished　today？　Yesterday　was　ancient　history。

　　　　〃Watkins'　suspected　contact　has　flown；〃　he　announced　three　hours　later。
　　　　〃What　happened？〃　Murray　closed　his　eyes　halfway　through　the　explanation　and　shook　his　head　sadly。　〃We　had　the　same　sort　of　thing　happen　to　us；〃　he　said　after　Owens　finished。　〃A　renegade　CIA　officer。　We　were　watching　his　place；　and　let　things　settle　into　a　fortable　routine；　and　then　　zip！　He　snookered　the　surveillance　team。　He　turned　up　in　Moscow　a　week　later。　It　happens；　Jimmy。〃　
　　　　〃Not　to　me；〃　Owens　almost　snarled。　〃Not　until　now；　that　is。〃　
　　　　〃What's　he　look　like？〃　Owens　handed　a　collection　of　photographs　across　the　desk。　Murray　flipped　through　them。　〃Mousy　little　bastard；　isn't　he？　Almost　bald。〃　The　FBI　man　considered　this　for　a　moment；　then　lifted　his　phone　and　punched　in　four　numbers。　〃Fred？　Dan。　You　want　to　e　down　to　my　office　for　a　minute？〃
　　　　The　man　arrived　a　minute　later。　Murray　didn't　identify　him　as　a　member　of　the　CIA　and　Owens　didn't　ask。　He　didn't　have　to。　He'd　given　over　two　copies　of　each　photo。
　　　　Fred　　one　of　the　men　from　〃down　the　hall〃　　took　his　photos　and　looked　at　them。　〃Who's　he　supposed　to　be？〃　
　　　　Owens　explained　briefly；　ending；　〃He's　probably　out　of　the　country　by　now。〃
　　　　〃Well；　if　he　turns　up　in　any　of　our　nets；　we'll　let　you　know；〃　Fred　promised；　and　left。
　　　　〃Do　you　know　what　they're　up　to？〃　Owens　asked　Murray。
　　　　〃No。　I　know　something　is　happening。　The　Bureau　and　the　Agency　have　a　joint　task　force　set　up；　but　it's　partmented；　and　I　don't　need　to　know　all　of　it　yet。〃　
　　　　〃Did　your　chaps　have　a　part　in　the　raid　on　Action…Directe？〃
　　　　〃I　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about；〃　Murray　said　piously。　How　the　hell　did　you　hear　about　that；　Jimmy？
　　　　〃I　thought　as　much；〃　Owens　replied。　Bloody　security！　〃Dan；　we