The Ghost(英文版)-第17章

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”　He　looked　at　his　watch　again。

　　“But　Cambridge；”　I　persisted。　“It　must　have　been　hugely　important　in　your　life；　coming　from　your　background。”

　　“Yes。　I　enjoyed　my　time　there。　I　met　some　great　people。　It　wasn’t　the　real　world；　though。　It　was　fantasyland。”

　　“I　know。　That　was　what　I　liked　about　it。”

　　“So　did　I。　Just　between　the　two　of　us：　Iloved　it。”　Lang’s　eyes　gleamed　at　the　memory。　“To　go　out　onto　a　stage　and　pretend　to　be　someone　else！　And　to　have　people　applaud　you　for　doing　it！　What　could　be　better？”

　　“Great；”　I　said；　baffled　by　his　change　of　mood。　“This　is　more　like　it。　Let’s　put　that　in。”

　　“No。”

　　“Why　not？”

　　“Why　not？”　Lang　sighed。　“Because　these　are　the　memoirs　of　aprime　minister　。”　He　suddenly　pounded　his　hand　hard　against　the　side　of　his　chair。　“And　all　my　political　life；　whenever　my　opponents　have　been　really　stuck　for　something　to　hit　me　with；　they’ve　always　said　I　was　afucking　actor　。”　He　sprang　up　and　started　striding　up　and　down。　“‘Oh；　Adam　Lang；’”　he　drawled；　performing　a　pitch…perfect　caricature　of　an　upper…class　Englishman；　“‘have　you　noticed　the　way　he　changes　his　voice　to　suit　whatever　company　he’s　in？’　‘Aye’”—and　now　he　was　a　gruff　Scotsman—“‘you　can’t　believe　anything　the　wee　bastard　says。　The　man’s　a　performer；　just　piss　and　wind　in　a　suit！’”　And　now　he　became　pompous；　judicious；　hand…wringing：　“‘It　is　Mr。　Lang’s　tragedy　that　an　actor　can　only　be　as　good　as　the　part　he　is　given；　and　finally　this　prime　minister　has　run　out　of　lines。’　You’ll　recognize　that　last　one　from　your　no　doubt　extensive　researches。”

　　I　shook　my　head。　I　was　too　astonished　by　his　tirade　to　speak。

　　“It’s　from　the　editorial　in　theTimes　on　the　day　I　announced　my　resignation。　The　headline　was　‘Kindly　Leave　the　Stage。’”　He　carefully　resumed　his　seat　and　smoothed　back　his　hair。　“So　no；　if　you　don’t　mind；　we　won’t　dwell　on　my　years　as　a　student　actor。　Leave　it　exactly　the　way　that　Mike　wrote　it。”

　　For　a　little　while　neither　of　us　spoke。　I　pretended　to　adjust　my　notes。　Outside；　one　of　the　policemen　struggled　along　the　top　of　the　dunes；　headfirst　into　the　wind；　but　the　soundproofing　of　the　house　was　so　efficient　he　looked　like　a　mime。　I　was　remembering　Ruth　Lang’s　words　about　her　husband：　“There’s　something　not　quite　right　about　him　at　the　moment；　and　I’m　a　bit　afraid　to　leave　him。”　Now　I　could　see　what　she　meant。　I　heard　a　click　and　leaned　across　to　check　the　recorder。

　　“I　need　to　change　disks；”　I　said；　grateful　for　the　opportunity　to　get　away。　“I’ll　just　take　this　down　to　Amelia。　I　won’t　be　a　minute。”

　　Lang　was　brooding　again；　staring　out　of　the　window。　He　made　a　small；　slightly　dismissive　gesture　with　his　hand　to　signal　that　I　should　go。　I　went　downstairs　to　where　the　secretaries　were　typing。　Amelia　was　standing　by　a　filing　cabinet。　She　turned　around　as　I　came　in。　I　suppose　my　face　must　have　given　me　away。

　　“What’s　happened？”　she　said。

　　“Nothing。”　But　then　I　felt　an　urge　to　share　my　unease。　“Actually；　he　seems　a　bit　on　edge。”

　　“Really？　That’s　not　like　him。　In　what　way？”

　　“He　just　blew　up　at　me　over　nothing。　I　guess　it　must　be　too　much　exercise　at　lunchtime；”　I　said；　trying　to　make　a　joke　out　of　it。　“Can’t　be　good　for　a　man。”

　　I　gave　the　disk　to　one　of　the　secretaries—Lucy；　I　think　it　was—and　picked　up　the　latest　transcripts。　Amelia　carried　on　looking　at　me；　her　head　tilted　slightly。

　　“What？”　I　said。

　　“You’re　right。　There　is　something　troubling　him；　isn’t　there？　He　took　a　call　just　after　you　finished　your　session　this　morning。”

　　“From　whom？”

　　“It　came　through　on　his　mobile。　He　didn’t　tell　me。　I　wonder…Alice；　darling—do　you　mind？”

　　Alice　got　up　and　Amelia　slipped　into　position　in　front　of　the　computer　screen。　I　don’t　think　I　ever　saw　fingers　move　so　rapidly　across　a　keyboard。　The　clicks　seemed　to　merge　into　one　continuous　purr　of　plastic；　like　the　sound　of　a　million　dominoes　falling。　The　images　on　the　screen　changed　almost　as　quickly。　And　then　the　clicks　slowed　to　a　few　staccato　taps　as　Amelia　found　what　she　was　looking　for。

　　“Shit！”

　　She　tilted　the　screen　toward　me；　then　sat　back　in　her　chair　in　disbelief。　I　bent　to　read　it。

　　The　web　page　was　headed　“Breaking　News”：

　　January　27；　2：57　PM　（EST）

　　NEW　YORK　（AP）—Former　British　Foreign　Secretary　Richard　Rycart　has　asked　the　International　Criminal　Court　in　The　Hague　to　investigate　allegations　that　the　former　British　prime　minister　Adam　Lang　ordered　the　illegal　handover　of　suspects　for　torture　by　the　CIA。

　　Mr。　Rycart；　who　was　dismissed　from　the　cabinet　by　Mr。　Lang　four　years　ago；　is　currently　United　Nations　special　envoy　for　humanitarian　affairs　and　an　outspoken　critic　of　U。S。　foreign　policy。　Mr。　Rycart　maintained　at　the　time　he　left　the　Lang　government　that　he　was　sacked　for　being　insufficiently　pro…America。

　　In　a　statement　issued　from　his　office　in　New　York；　Mr。　Rycart　said　he　had　passed　a　number　of　documents　to　the　ICC　some　weeks　ago。　The　documents—details　of　which　were　leaked　to　a　British　newspaper　at　the　weekend—allegedly　show　that　Mr。　Lang；　as　prime　minister；　personally　authorized　the　seizure　of　four　British　citizens　in　Pakistan　five　years　ago。

　　Mr。　Rycart　went　on：　“I　have　repeatedly　asked　the　British　government；　in　private；　to　investigate　this　illegal　act。　I　have　offered　to　give　testimony　to　any　inquiry。　Yet　the　government　have　consistently　refused　even　to　acknowledge　the　existence　of　Operation　Tempest。　I　therefore　feel　I　have　no　alternative　except　to　present　the　evidence　in　my　possession　to　the　ICC。”

　　“The　little　shit；”　whispered　Amelia。

　　The　telephone　on　the　desk　started　ringing。　Then　another　on　a　small　table　beside　the　door　chimed　in。　Nobody　moved。　Lucy　and　Alice　looked　at　Amelia　for　instructions；　and　as　they　did；　Amelia’s　own　mobile；　which　she　had　in　a　little　leather　pouch　on　her　belt；　set　up　its　own　electronic　warble。　For　the　briefest　of　moments　I　saw　her　panic—it　must　have　been　one　of　the　very　few　occasions　in　her　life　when　she　didn’t　know　what　to　do—and　in　the　absence　of　any　guidance；　Lucy　started　reaching　for　the　phone　on　the　desk。

　　“Don’t！”　shouted　Amelia；　then　added；　more　calmly：　“Leave　it。　We　need　to　work　out　a　line　to　take。”　By　now　a　couple　of　other　phones　were　trilling　away　in　the　recesses　of　the　house。　It　was　like　noon　in　a　clock　factory。　She　took　out　her　mobile　and　examined　the　incoming　number。　“The　pack　is　on　the　move；”　she　said　and　turned　it　off。　For　a　few　seconds　she　drummed　her　fingertips　on　the　desk。　“Right。　Unplug　all　the　phones；”　she　instructed　Alice；　with　something　of　her　old　confidence　back　in　her　voice；　“then　start　surfing　the　main　news　sites　on　the　web　to　see　if　you　can　discover　anything　else　Rycart　is　saying。　Lucy；　find　a　television　and　monitor　all　the　news　channels。”　She　looked　at　her　watch。　“Is　Ruth　still　out　walking？　Shit！　She　is；　isn’t　she？”

　　She　grabbed　her　black…and…red　book　and　clattered　off　down　the　corridor　on　her　high　heels。　Unsure　of　what　I　was　supposed　to　do；　or　even　exactly　what　was　happening；　I　decided　I’d　better　follow　her。　She　was　calling　for　one　of　the　Special　Branch　men。　“Barry！　Barry！”　He　stuck　his　head　out　of　the　kitchen。　“Barry；　please　find　Mrs。　Lang　and　get　her　back　here　as　soon　as　you　can。”　She　started　climbing　the　stairs　to　the　living　room。

　　Once　again；　Lang　was　sitting　motionless；　exactly　where　I　had　left　him。　The　only　difference　was　that　he　had　his　own　small　mobile　phone　in　his　hand。　He　snapped　it　shut　as　we　came　in。

　　“I　take　it　from　all　the　telephone　calls　that　he’s　issued　his　statement；”　he　said。

　　Amelia　spread　her　hands　wide　in　exasperation。　“Why　didn’t　you　tell　me？”

　　“Tell　you　before　I’d　told　Ruth？　I　don’t　think　that　would　have　been　very　good　politics；　do　you？　Besides；　I　felt　like　keeping　it　to　myself　for　a　while。　Sorry；”　he　said　to　me；　“for　losing　my　temper。”

　　I　was　touched　by　his　apology。　That　was　grace　in　adversity；　I　thought。　“Don’t　worry　about　it；”　I　said。

　　“And　have　you？”　asked　Amelia。　“Told　her？”

　　“I　wanted　to　break　it　to　her　face…to…face。　Obviously；　that’s　no　longer　an　option；　so　I　just　called　her。”

　　“And　how　did　she　take　it？”

　　“How　do　you　think？”

　　“The　little　shit；”　repeated　Amelia。

　　“She　should　be　back　any　minute。”

　　Lang　got　to　his　feet　and　stood　looking　out　of　the　window　with　his　hands　on　his　hips。　I　smelled　again　the　sharp　tang　of　his　sweat。　It　made　me　think　of　an　animal　at　bay。　“He　wanted　very　much　to　let　me　know　there　was　nothing　personal；”　said　Lang；　with　his　back　to　us。　“He　wanted　veryvery　much　to　tell　me　that　it　was　only　because　of　his　well…known　stand　on　human　rights　that　he　felt　he　couldn’t　keep　quiet　any　longer。”　He　snorted　at　his　own　reflection。　“His　‘well…known　stand　on　human　rights’…Dear　God。”

　　Amelia　said；　“Do　you　think　he　was　taping　the　call？”

　　“Who　knows？　Probably。　Probably　he’s　going　to　broadcast　it。　Anything’s　possible　with　him。　I　just　said；　‘Thank　you　very　much；　Richard；　for　letting　me　know；’　and　hung　up。”　He　turned　round；　frowning。　“It’s　gone　unnervingly　quiet　down　there。”

　　“I’ve　had　the　phones　unplugged。　We　need　to　work　out　what　we’re　going　to　say。”

　　“What　did　we　say　at　the　weekend？”

　　“That　we　hadn’t　seen　what　was　in　theSunday　Times　and　had　no　plans　to　comment。”

　　“Well；　at　least　we　now　know　where　they　got　their　story。”　Lang　shook　his　head。　His　expression　was　almost　admiring。　“He　really　is　after　me；　isn’t　he？　A　leak　to　the　press　on　Sunday；　preparing　the　ground　for　a　statement　on　Tuesday。　Three　days　of　coverage　instead　of　one；　building　up　to　a　climax。　This　is　straight　out　of　the　textbook。”

　　“Your　textbook。”

　　Lang　acknowledged　the　compliment　with　a　slight　nod　and　returned　his　gaze　to　the　window。　“Ah；”　he　said。　“Here　comes　trouble。”

　　A　small　and　determined　figure　in　a　blue　windbreaker　was　striding　down　the　path　from　the　dunes；　moving　so　rapidly　that　the　policeman　behind　her　had　to　break　into　an　occasional　loping　run　to　keep　up。　The　pointed　hood　was　pulled　down　low　to　protect　her　face；　and　h