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jamesclavell.noblehouse-第286章

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 In a moment he left and went to police HQ and checked out the fingerprints in his private files; then got back into his car and headed haphazardly toward West Point。 When he was sure that he was not being followed; he stopped at the next phone booth and dialed。 In a moment the phone was picked up at the other end。 No answer; just breathing。 At once Crosse coughed Arthur's dry hacking cough and spoke in a perfect imitation of Arthur's voice。 〃Mr。 Lop…sing please。〃
 〃There's no Mr。 Lop…ting here。 Sorry; you have a wrong number。〃
 Contentedly Crosse recognized Suslev。 〃I want to leave a message;〃 he said continuing the code in the same voice that both he and Jason Plumm used on the telephone; both of them finding it very useful to be able to pretend to be Arthur whenever necessary; thus further covering each other and their real identities。
 When the code was plete; Suslev said; 〃And?〃
 Crosse smiled thinly; glad to be able to dupe Suslev。 〃I've read the material。 So has Our Friend。〃 Our friend was Arthur's code name for himself; Roger Crosse。
 〃Ah! And?〃
 〃And we both agree it's excellent。〃 Excellent was a code word meaning counterfeit or false information。
 A long pause。 〃So?〃
 〃Can our friend contact you; Saturday at four?〃 Can Roger Crosse contact you tonight at 10:00 p。m。 at safe phones?
 〃Yes。 Thank you for calling。〃 Yes。 Message understood。
 Crosse replaced the receiver。
 He took out another coin and dialed again。
 〃Hello?〃
 〃Hello; Jason; this's Roger Crosse;〃 he said affably。
 〃Oh hello; Superintendent; this's a pleasant surprise;〃 Plumm replied。 〃Is our bridge game still on for tomorrow?〃 Did you make the intercept of the AMG files?
 〃Yes;〃 Crosse said; then added casually; 〃But instead of six could we make it eight?〃 Yes; but we're safe; no names were mentioned。
 There was a great sigh of relief。 Then Plumm said; 〃Shall I tell the others?〃 Do we meet tonight as arranged?
 〃No; no need to disturb them tonight; we can do that tomorrow。〃 No。 We'll meet tomorrow。
 〃Fine。 Thank you for calling。〃
 Crosse went back down the crowded street。 Very pleased with himself; he got into his car and lit a cigarette。 I wonder what Suslev … or his bosses … would think if they knew I was the real Arthur; not Jason Plumm。 Secrets within secrets within secrets and Jason the only one who knows who Arthur really is!
 He chuckled。
 The KGB would be furious。 They don't like secrets they're not party to。 And they'd be even more furious if they knew it was I who inducted Plumm and formed Sevrin; not the other way around。
 It had been easy to arrange。 When Crosse was in Military Intelligence in Germany at the tail end of the war; information was whispered to him privately that Plumm; a signals expert; was operating a clandestine transmitter for the Soviets。 Within a month he had got to know Plumm and had established the truth of this but almost immediately the war had ended。 So he had docketed the information for future use … to barter with; or against a time he might want to switch sides。 In espionage you never know when you're being set up; or betrayed; or being sold for something or someone more valuable。 You always need secrets to barter with; the more important the secrets the safer you are; because you never know when you or an underling or overling will make the mistake that leaves you as naked and as helpless as a spiked butterfly。 Like Voranski。 Like Metkin。 Like Dunross with his phony files。 Like Rosemont with his naive idealism。 Like Gregor Suslev; his fingerprints from the glass now on record with the CIA and so in a trap of my own choosing。
 Crosse laughed aloud。 He let in the clutch; easing out into the traffic。 Switching sides and playing them all off against each other makes life exciting; he told himself。 Yes; secrets really do make life very exciting indeed。
 
 61
 
 9:45 P。M。:
 Pok Liu Chau was a small island southwest of Aberdeen; and dinner the best Chinese food Bartlett had ever had。 They were on their eighth course; small bowls of rice。 Traditionally rice was the last dish at a banquet。
 〃You're not really supposed to eat any; Linc!〃 Orlanda laughed。 〃That sort of dramatizes to your host that you're full to bursting!〃
 〃You can say that again; Orlanda! Quillan; it's been fantastic!〃
 〃Yes; yes it was; Quillan;〃 she echoed。 〃You chose beautifully。〃
 The restaurant was beside a small wharf near a fishing village … drab and lit with bare bulbs and furnished with oilcloth on the tables and bad chairs and broken tiles on the floor。 Behind it was an alley of fish tanks where the daily catch of the island was kept for sale。 Under the proprietor's direction they chose from what was swimming in the tanks: prawns; squid; shrimps; lobster; small crabs and fish of all kinds of shapes and sizes。
 Gornt had argued with the proprietor over the menu; settling with what fish they could agree on。 Both were experts and Gornt a valued customer。 Later they had sat down at a table on the patio。 It was cool and they drank beer; happy together; the three of them。 All knew that at least during dinner there was a truce and no need for guards。
 In moments the first dish had arrived … mounds of succulent quick…fried shrimps; sea…sweet and as delicious as any in the world。 Then tiny octopus with garlic and ginger and chili and all the condiments of the East。 Then some chicken wings deep fried which they ate with sea salt; then the great fish steamed with soy and slivers of fresh green onions and ginger and laid on a platter; the cheek; the delicacy of the fish; given to Bartlett as the honored guest。 〃Jesus; when I saw this dump; sorry; this place; I figured you were putting me on。〃
 〃Ah; my dear fellow;〃 Gornt said; 〃you have to know the Chinese。 They aren't concerned with the surroundings; just the food。 They'd be very suspicious of any eating place that wasted money on decoration or tablecloths or candles。 They want to see what they eat … hence the harsh light。 Chinese are at their best eating。 They're like Italians。 They love to laugh and eat and drink and belch。 。。。〃
 They all drank beer。 〃That goes best with Chinese food though Chinese tea's better … it's more digestive and breaks down all the oil。〃
 〃Why the smile; Linc?〃 Orlanda asked。 She was sitting between them。
 〃No reason。 It's just that you really know how to eat here。 Say; what's this?〃
 She peered at the dish of fried rice mixed with various kinds of fish。 〃Squid。〃
 〃What?〃
 The others laughed and Gornt said; 〃The Chinese say if its back faces heaven it's edible。 Shall we go?〃
 As soon as they were back on board and out to sea; away from the wharf; there was coffee and brandy。 Gornt said; 〃Will you excuse me for a while? I've got some paper work to do。 If you're cold; use the forward stateroom。〃 He went below。
 Thoughtfully Bartlett sipped his brandy。 Orlanda was across from him and they were lounging in the deck chairs on the aft deck。 Suddenly he wished that this was his boat and they were alone。 Her eyes were on him。 Without being asked; she moved closer and put her hand on the back of his neck; kneading the muscles gently and expertly。
 〃That feels great;〃 he said; wanting her。
 〃Ah;〃 she replied;
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