Chapter 8 chapter Five

Miss Power's bed was like a servant's bed in a fairy tale, cramped and uncomfortable.After Bradford had thrown Mary onto the bed, she lay motionless, curled up in the duvet, her knees arched for protection, her arms wrapped around her shoulders.He slipped away from her, and his sweat and breath could no longer be smelled.But she could feel his bulk from the foot of the bed, and sometimes she remembered painfully that they hadn't made love earlier, because that was how he was in those days: sitting like this, talking on the phone, checking bills, Or do other things to maintain order in his man's world, let her nap aside.He found a tape recorder somewhere, and Qiao Qi had the other one, just in case his one didn't work.

Nigel was small but athletic for an executioner.He wore a fitted pinstripe suit with a silk handkerchief in the sleeve. "Ask Mary to write a voluntary statement, have you done that, Jack?" Nigel said it seemed like he did it every week. "Voluntary, but the specification needs to be formal. It may be used, possibly. This is not Bo's decision alone." "Which damn thing said she came voluntarily?" said Bradford. "She signed a formal non-disclosure clause when she joined, signed it again when she left, and signed it again when she married Pym. You Everything we know is ours, Mary. Whether you hear it on the bus or see him with a smoking gun in his hand."

"Your good Georgie can bear witness," said Nigel. Mary began to speak, but most of what she said she did not understand, for with one ear buried in the pillow she listened with the other to the sounds of the Lesbos morning coming in through the open window of their brown house. The flat-roofed hut is located on the mountainside of Polomari City. In the early morning, there is the sound of electric cars, ships, Greek bouzouki music and trucks passing through the alleys.There are also the screams of sheep under the butcher's knife, the footsteps of donkeys' hooves sliding over the cobblestones, and the cries of vendors in the market by the harbor.If she closes her eyes tightly, she can look over the orange roofs, across the street, over the chimneys and clotheslines and roof gardens full of geraniums, to the water's edge, up the long jetty, with the red lights at the end, The lively wild cat is bathed in the sunshine, watching the cargo ship slowly sailing out of the morning mist.

Mary's story unfolded before her eyes, and she told Jack Bradford that it was like a nightmare film, and she only dared to glance at it intermittently, because she herself was the most heartless bitch.As the cargo ship approaches, the cat stretches, the gangway is lowered, the English Pym family - Magnus, Mary and son Thomas - procession ashore, looking for another perfect spot to get away from it all.Because no place is far enough, no place is remote enough.Pym's family has become the flying Dutchmen on the Aegean Sea. They are busy packing again as soon as they land on the shore, changing boats and islands constantly, like spirits that have been exorcised, but only Magnus knows this curse, only Mag Nas knew who was after them and why, and Magnus kept that secret behind his smile, like all his other secrets.She saw him strutting happily ahead of her, holding his straw hat with one hand to keep it from being blown away, and shaking his suitcase with the other.She saw Tom striding behind him, wearing gray flannel trousers and a school tracksuit with the Scout badge on the pocket, which he insisted on despite the temperature being in the eighties.She saw herself groggy from the hangover and the smell of gasoline from the night before, and secretly planning to betray them.Behind them she saw the barefoot local porters carrying the Pyms' excess baggage, towels, sheets, Tom's Weetabix, and other clutter Mary had packed for their great vacation in Vienna, As Magnus said, it was the once-in-a-lifetime family vacation they had been looking forward to for a long time, although Mary remembered that Magnus only mentioned the plan a few days before departure, and to be honest, she would rather Back to England, get the dog from the gardener, get the long-haired Siamese cat from Aunt Tai, spend time in Plasch.

The porter unloads the burden.Magnus was as generous as ever, tipping them out of Mary's open handbag.Tom stooped awkwardly to inspect the welcome parade of lyspers, saying that their ears resembled celery.The whistle sounded, the porters jumped back to the gangway, and the cargo ship disappeared into the fog again.Magnus, Tom, and the traitorous Mary stared at the cargo ship, their life's luggage strewn about like every sad tale about the sea, and the red signal lights cast a faint fire over their heads. "After here, can we go back to Vienna?" Tom asked, "I want to see Becky Radler."

Magnus didn't answer him.Magnus was enthusiastic.He would have been so passionate about his own funeral, and Mary loved him that way, as she loved so many other things about him, and still does.Sometimes his kindness puts me to shame. "Here it is, Maggie," he cried, pointing his arm sharply at a bare, treeless conical hill with some brown houses on it that was their newest home. "We've found it. Plasch of the sea!" He looked back at her with a smile he'd never seen before this holiday—so heroic in despair, such weary joy. "We're safe here, Mal, we're all right."

He put his arms around her and she let him hold her.He pulls her closer, hugging.Tom squeezed between them, holding one in each arm. "Hey, give me some too," he said.The three hugged each other tightly, like the closest allies in the world, and walked down the jetty together, leaving their luggage there until they found a place to put it.They were settled in less than an hour, because the clever Magnus was able to use the Greek identity he had made up on this trip without hindrance, and knew from the beginning which hotel to find, who to court, and where to go. Who to ask for help.Still, the nights would sting, and night after night, getting worse, lingering from the moment she woke up, she could feel them creeping up on her, lurking all day long.To celebrate their arrival in their new home, Magnus bought a bottle of Red Label vodka, though they had repeatedly decided not to buy spirits and to drink only local wine.The wine bottle was almost empty, and Tom, thank God, finally fell asleep in his new room.Or Mary's going to have to pray, because Tom's been a junk collector lately, as her father must have said, always chasing after them to pick up their leftovers.

"Hey, come on, Mal, you don't look pretty, do you?" Magnus tried to tease her. "Don't you like our new fortress?" "You're funny, and I'm smiling too." "It doesn't look like a smile," Magnus said, showing her a smile. "More like a grimace from where I'm sitting, dear." But the blood was rushing up Mary's head, and as usual, she couldn't stop herself.She hadn't committed the crime yet, but the guilt was all over her. "That's what you're writing about, isn't it?" she said aloud. "How can you waste your wit on a useless woman?"

Mary, too, was startled by her own displeasure, and wept, beating the arm of the rush-chair with her clenched fists.But Magnus wasn't surprised.Magnus put down his glass and approached her, patting her arm with his fingertips, waiting to be accepted.He thoughtfully kept her glass out of reach.Moments later, the springs of their new bed creaked like a brass orchestra tuned, as desperate erotic frenzy finally helped Magnus. He made love to her passionately, as if they would never see each other again in this life.He buried himself deeply in her body, as if she was his only safe haven, and Mary also blindly cooperated with him.She climbed to the top, he led her, and she yelled at him, "Please, oh my God!" In that blissful moment, Mary could have kissed the damned world goodbye.

"We use the name Pembroke, by the way." Magnus said shortly after, but not long enough. "I'm sure it's not necessary, but I hope it's safe." Pembroke was one of Magnus' aliases.He had Pembroke's passport in his briefcase, which she had discovered earlier.The photo above has been subtly manipulated so that it doesn't look clear, it may or may not be Magnus.In Berlin's forgery workshops, they often say that the photos look like homeless workers. "How do I tell Tom?" she asked. "Why tell him?" "Our son's name is Pym. He might think it strange if he were told his name was Pembroke."

She waited, hating herself for being stubborn.Magnus isn't often bothered by questions, even those about mentoring or deceiving children.But at this moment he was thinking, and she could feel him lying awake beside her in the darkness thinking. "Well, just say Pembroke is the owner of the house, and I'll tell him. We're going to order things from the shop in his name. Only when asked, of course. " "certainly." "Those two are still there," said Tom, the subject of their conversation, by the door. "Who?" said Mary. But the skin on the nape of her neck prickled, and her body was cold and damp. How much did Tom hear?or see? "People who fix motorcycles by the river. They have special military sleeping bags, flashlights, and special tents." "The island is full of campers," said Mary. "Go back to bed." "They're on our boat too," said Tom. "Behind the lifeboat they're playing cards and watching us. Speaking German." "There are a lot of people on board," said Mary.Why don't you talk, you bastard?She screamed at Magnus mentally.I'm still dripping with your stuff, but you just lay there straight and didn't help me? Tom lay on one side, Magnus on the other, and Mary listened to the slow chimes of the Bolomari clock.Four more days, she told herself.On Sunday, Tom will fly back to London to start the new term.And on Monday, I will do it, and I will be condemned by God. Bradford shook her.Nigel said something to him: Ask her how it all started—ask her to explain. "We want you to start over, can you? You overdid it." She heard a murmur, then the sound of Georgie changing a tape.It was herself who murmured. "Tell us how you got your vacation in the first place, won't you, dear? Who suggested it?—Oh, Magnus, didn't you? I see—was it in this house?—Yes What time is it? Sit up, will you?" So Mary sat up and began from the beginning where Jack had told her: Vienna, one sweet early summer evening, when all was still in order, and Leisbos and all the islands before it were not yet in the eyes of wise Magnus. flashes.Mary in her burqa, framed in the basement with a first edition of Karl Krauss' The Last of Mankind, which Magnus found when he went to Leoben to meet an informant, Mary— "Routinely, Leoben?" "Yes, Jack Leopard is routine." "How often does he go?" "Twice a month. Three times. He's got an old Hungarian in there, nothing special." "He told you, didn't he? I thought his informant was only known to him." "An old Hungarian wine merchant with offices in London and Budapest. Magnus is mostly tight-lipped. Sometimes he tells me. Can I go on?" Tom is at school and Miss Power has gone to prayer, said Mary. Some Catholic feast, Assumption Day, Ascension Day, prayer and repentance, Mary couldn't figure it out.Magnus was supposed to be at the US embassy.The new committee had just started meeting, and she didn't expect him to return early.She was busy pasting, and suddenly, without hearing a sound, she saw him standing at the door, God knows how long he had been standing there.He looked happy, looking at her in the way he always loved. "What, dear? What does he think of you?" interrupted Bradford. Mary was so unexpected that she hesitated. "Superiority, a little. Painful superiority. Jack, don't make me hate him, please." "Well, he's looking at you," Bradford said. He looked at her, and when she met his gaze he burst out laughing, sang Fred Astaire, and pressed a passionate kiss on her mouth, keeping her from speaking.Then there was a comprehensive and candid exchange of views upstairs, to paraphrase him. They made love, he pulled her into the bathroom and cleaned her, he dragged her out and dried her.Twenty minutes later, Mary and Magnus walked through the little park above Dublin almost as a loving couple, past sand pits and climbing frames too small for Tom, past the playground where Tom played football. Elephant column, walk down the hill to Tehran Restaurant.It's not quite like the diners they'd go to, but Magnus loves the Arabic dark self-love flicks here.They often eat steamed meatballs and sip cold drinks, and the store will turn down the volume and play videos for them.At the table, he squeezed her arm hard, and she could feel his excitement flowing through her like electricity.It seemed that the more he had her, the more he needed her. "Let's go on vacation, Mal, let's really go on vacation. Let's change our lives and relax, not just pretend. Let's take Tom, use up all the vacations, and go away for a whole summer.You paint, I write my book, we can fuck until we break. " Mary said where to go, Magnus said it doesn't matter where, I'll go to the travel agency tomorrow.Mary said what about the new committee. He held her hand in his palm and stroked her palm with his fingertips, and she was crazy about him again, and he liked it like this. "The new committee, Mary," said Magnus flatly, "is the dumbest and bloodiest crossword game I've ever played in, and believe me, I've seen a lot of it. It's just a bunch of people getting together to babble, beat' The company's ego, and to tell everyone who wants to hear, we do something secret in bed with the Americans. Raidler can't imagine that we're going to give him the whole intelligence network, and Raidler himself , wouldn’t even tell me the name of his tailor, let alone his Secret Service — if he had one, I doubt it." Bradford said again, "Did he tell you why Raidler didn't want to tell him?" "No," said Mary. Nigel rephrases the question: "Did he tell you any other reason why the committee is a charade?" "It was a charade, it was a charade, it was a job to keep people busy. That's all he said. I asked him what to do with the informants, and he said they'd take care of themselves, and if Jack bothered to take care of them, An agent could be sent. I asked him what Jack would think--" "What would Jack think?" Nigel said, making no secret of his curiosity. "He said Jack was lying too: 'I'm not married to Jack, I'm married to you.' The company should have told him to retire ten years ago. Poor Jack.' Sorry. That's what he said .” Bradford paced the small space with his hands in his pockets, looking at the photograph of Miss Power's illegitimate daughter and the paperback romance novels on her shelf. "What else did you say about me?" he asked. "Jack has been in the job for too long. The era of the Boy Scouts is over. It's a new situation and he's not up to it." "And what else?" Bradford said. Nigel buried his chin in the palm of his hand, examining the petite but well-made shoes. "No more," said Mary. "Did he go for a walk that night? To see P?" "He went out the night before." "I mean that night. Answer the damn question!" "I said it was the night before." "With newspapers, a whole copy?" "right." Bradford looked up, hands still in his pockets, and turned unnaturally to Nigel. "I'm going to tell her," he said. "Are you going to lose your temper?" "Are you asking me formally?" Nigel asked. "nothing special." "If you're asking me formally, I'll tell Bo," said Nigel, looking respectfully at the gold watch in his hand, as if taking orders from it. "Redler knows, we know. If Pym knows, who doesn't?" Bradford insisted. Nigel thought about it. "You figure it out. Your people, your decisions. You finish it yourself, frankly." Bradford leaned closer to Mary, putting his head against her ear.She remembered his smell: tweed and father. "listen?" She shook her head.I won't, I'll never listen, I hope never to know. "That new committee that your Magnus is laughing at is a powerful organization. Probably the most promising working relationship we've had with America at the substantive level in years. The name of the game is mutual trust. Now it's time to It's harder than it used to be, but it can still be managed. Are you falling asleep?" She nodded. "Your Magnus was not only in the know, he was also one of the masterminds driving this committee, if we don't say he was the only mastermind. He was so involved that when we started negotiating the deal, he even Complained to me that London interpreted the terms of the deal too carefully. He thought we should give the Americans more. In exchange for more. This is the first point." I have nothing else to say.You can take my home address, the names of my next of kin, that's what you want. You taught me yourself, Jack, in case they take me. "Secondly, for reasons that I sniffed at the time and even considered offensive, the United States objected to your husband's presence on the committee three weeks after the committee and demanded that he be replaced by someone they preferred. Because Mag Nas is the head of the czech operation and several other smaller eastern european programs, that's a completely unrealistic request. They had a problem with him in Washington a year ago too, and Bo gave in, which in my opinion was a big mistake .I'm not going to let them get away with it this time.I just don't like those American gentlemen or others telling me how to run my people.I say no to them and tell Magnus to go on annual leave and leave Vienna, Until I call him back. That's the truth, and I think it's about time I let you know." "It's very classified," Nigel said. She thought she would be taken aback, but she wasn't.There were no overwhelming protests, no outbursts of the family's famous bad temper.Bradford went to the window and looked out.Morning came early because of the snow.He looked old and weather-beaten.His white hair was loose in the light, and she could see the pink of his scalp. "You protected him," she said. "You were faithful." "I seem to be a goddamn idiot, too." The whole house was turned upside down.In the living room below them there was a loud thud of moving furniture.The safest place is here.Upstairs with Jack. "Oh, don't blame yourself so much, Jack," said Nigel. Bradford seated Mary in a chair and handed her a glass of whiskey.You only have one drink, he once said, take it as your last.Nigel took over the bed, sitting on it, sticking out a short leg in suit trousers as if he had sprained it walking up the club stairs.Bradford turned his back to both of them.He prefers the view from the window. "You went to Corfu first. Your aunt has a house there. You borrow her. Tell me about this part, in detail." "Aunt Ty," said Mary. "I want my full name," said Nigel. "Sir Tabitha Gray, father's sister." "A member of our 'company' too," Bradford murmured to Nigel. "There's a member of their family on our rolls almost all the time, come to think of it." When they got back from drinking that night, she called Aunt Tay, and, miraculously, someone canceled the reservation and her house became available.They borrowed a house, called Tom's school, and arranged for him to fly straight to Corfu after term.When the Redlers heard the news, of course they wanted to go too. Grant said he could drop everything, but Magnus ignored him.The Redlers are exactly the kind of social props I have to kick off, he said.Why am I taking my job on vacation? Five days later, they were settled in Aunt Tay's house, and everything was perfect.Tom took tennis lessons at the hotel at the top of the road, swam, fed the innkeeper's wife's sheep, and hung out in the boat with Costas, who tended the boat and watered the garden.But what he loves most is when Magnus takes him to the outskirts of the city at night to watch crazy cricket games.Magnus said cricket was introduced to the island when the British helped the islanders resist Napoleon.Magnus just knew this sort of thing.Or pretend to know. Through cricket, Magnus and Tom were closer than ever.They lay on the grass, gorged on ice cream, cheered on their favorite players, and talked about men, which was the key to Tom's happiness: because Tom was madly in love with Magnus, a man's son ,Always.As for Marie, she got out her crayons, because the Corfu summer was too hot for her watercolours, and the paint dried as soon as it was on the paper, and she had no time to get close.But she paints well, has beautiful landscapes and portraits, and entertains half the dogs on the island, because the Greeks don't feed dogs, don't take care of dogs, don't do anything.So everybody's happy, everybody's doing great.Magnus had cool greenhouses to write in, and an entire island to take endless walks in.He takes a walk first thing in the morning, and after a long day, he takes a walk again in the evening.They ate late, usually in pubs, and drank a lot, to be honest, but why not, they were on vacation.And the long erotic naps where Mary and Magnus make love on the balcony while Tom lays on the sand watching the naked men and women coming and going in the bay through Magnus' binoculars, so it's like Magnus Everyone gets the pound they want, as Stanley said.Until one day, when the clock stopped, Magnus returned from a night walk and admitted that he had hit a wall in his writing.He came in, poured himself a strong ouzo, threw himself into a chair, and said flatly, "I'm sorry, Mal. I'm sorry, Tom, old man. But this place is too fucking poetic.I need crowds, for heaven's sake.Need smoke, trash, and some misery to surround us.It's like being on the moon here, Mal.Worse than Vienna, really. " His words were gentle, but his attitude was very firm.He drank, obviously, but it was because he was depressed. "I'm going crazy, Mal. I'm really going. I told Tom. Did you, Tom? I said I really couldn't take it, and I felt so bad because you two were so happy. " "Yes, he did," said Tom. - "Several times. And today was a real hit, Ma. You gotta get me out. You two." Of course they said they would help him.Mary immediately called Aunt Ty so she could put the house back on rent.They share a big bear hug and go to bed with determination. The next day, Mary packed her bags and Magnus was in town to process boat tickets and book their next adventure.But Tom, who was too tired and usually talkative, had a different idea of ​​why they had to leave Corfu.Dad meets this mysterious man at the cricket ground.It was a real super match, Mom, the two strongest teams on the island, they were really jealous when they met each other.We were all crazy watching, and all of a sudden there was this wise, lean guy with a magician mustache and a limp, and Dad stood up when he saw him.He came over with a smile and talked with Dad for a while, they walked up and down in the open space, Dad and this thin man, he walked very slowly, like a sick person. But he was very kind to his dad, even though he was too intense. "Agitation," Mary corrected him spontaneously. "Don't be too loud, Tom. I think Daddy's working somewhere." "And there's an incredible Batman," said Tom, "Philip." It was the best Batman Tom had ever seen. "He had 18 before the pitch swap, and the crowd loved him. But Dad didn't pay attention because he was too busy listening to the sweet guy." "How do you know he's kind?" Mary was annoyed for no reason. "Keep your voice down." There was no light in the greenhouse, but sometimes Magnus sat in the dark. "He's like a father to him, Mom. He's older and calm. He keeps asking Dad to ride in his car, and Dad keeps saying no. But he's not mad or anything, he's too smart. He's Dad was very polite and always smiling." "What car? It's an exaggerated legend, Tom. You know. " "Mr. Volvo Carlomano's Volvo. One drives and the other sits in the back. The car waits on the other side of the fence while they walk and talk. I'm telling the truth, Ma. The skinny guy didn't lose his temper or anything, he really liked Dad, you could tell.Don't just hold his arm.They are nice to each other.Better than Uncle Grant.More like Uncle Jack. " Mary asked Magnus that night.They were packing and she was excited to move and was really looking forward to visiting the museums in Athens. "Tom said you were stalked by some nasty person at the cricket ground," said Mary, as they shared a strong nightcap after a busy day. "I?" "There's a little guy stalking you around the clearing. Sounds like an angry husband. He has a moustache, unless that's Tom's fancy." Then Magnus vaguely remembered. "Oh, yes. He's a boring old Englishman who keeps asking me to see his cottage. He wants to sell me.What a nuisance! " "He speaks German," Tom said over breakfast the next morning, after Magnus had gone for a walk. "Who?" "Dad's skinny friend. The guy who found Dad at the cricket ground. Dad spoke German to him too. Why did Dad say he was an old Englishman?" Mary jumped at him, she hadn't been this angry with him in years. "If you want to listen to our conversation, just come in and listen carefully, don't poke around like a spy outside the door." Then she felt ashamed again, and played tennis with him until she boarded the boat and left.Tom vomited like a dog on the boat and arrived in Piraeus with a temperature of 103 degrees Fahrenheit, and she was wracked with guilt. In the hospital in Athens, a Greek doctor diagnosed a rash with a shrimp allergy, which was ridiculous, because Tom hated shrimp and wouldn't eat a bite; Tom's face was swollen like a rat, so they were admitted to an expensive hospital. In the guest room, let him lie in bed with an ice pillow while Mary read him fantastic stories while Magnus listened, or sit in Tom's room and write.But most of the time he was listening, because the best thing in his life, he always said, was watching her comfort their baby. "Did he not go out at all?" Bradford asked. "Not at first. He didn't want to go out." "Did you call?" Nigel said. "Call the embassy. File it so you know where he is." "He told you?" said Bradford. "yes." "You weren't there when he called?" Nigel said. "Not here." "Did you hear what he was saying next door?" "No." "Know who he's talking to?" Or Nigel. "have no idea." Nigel sat up on the bed and looked up at Bradford. "But he called you, Jack," he snapped at Bradford. "Calling in from anywhere to chat with the old chief now and then? It's a duty, isn't it? Check out the informant— 'What about the old guy you know I know?'" Nigel was the new layman, Mary remembered Magnus telling her.He was the kind of idiot who was trying to bring a sense of pragmatism into Whitehall.If I've ever heard a paradox, this is it, Magnus said. "Not a word," Bradford replied. "He just sent me a bunch of picture postcards: 'Thank God you're not here.' Give the latest address." "When did he start going out?" Nigel said. "When Tom's fever started to go away," answered Mary. "A week?" asked Nigel tentatively. "Two weeks?" "Not that long," said Mary. "Be clear," Bradford said. It was night, probably day four.Tom's face returned to normal, so Magnus suggested that Mary go shopping and let him take care of Tom and give her a break.But Mary dared not walk the streets of Athens alone, so she let Magnus go out first, and Mary went to the museum the next morning.He came back in the middle of the night and was very happy to say that he found an incredible old Greek travel agency in the basement across from the Hilton, a very cultured person, and they drank ouzo and discussed the problems of the universe.The old man ran a villa rental service across the islands, hoping to find them a canceled house about a week after they had seen enough of Athens. "I thought I didn't think about islands anymore," said Mary. For a while, the Magnus seemed to forget why they left Corfu.With a half-smile, he kept saying that every island was different.After that, she seemed to have lost track of her life.They moved to a smaller hotel; Magnus wrote and wrote, going out at night and taking Tom for a swim when he was more or less well. Mary sketches the Acropolis and takes Tom to a few museums, but he prefers swimming.Meanwhile, they waited for an answer from the old Greek. Bradford interrupted again: "He wrote this thing. What the hell did he say?" "He likes to keep it a secret. Pieces and pieces. That's all he tells me." "Like his informant," Bradford said. "He wants it to be new to me when he has something to show me. He doesn't like to say it himself." It was a very peaceful day, as Mary now remembers, with an air of eerie secrecy.Until one night, Magnus disappeared.He went out after dinner and said he was going to put some pressure on that old boy.He hadn't returned the next morning, and by lunchtime Mary was getting scared.She knew she should call the embassy. On the other hand, she didn't want to panic and take unnecessary action, or do anything that would get Magnus into trouble. Bradford interrupted her again. "What kind of trouble?" "If he gets drunk or something. That'll put a mark on his file. He's looking for a promotion." "Has he been drunk before?" "Of course not. He and Grant drank together occasionally, but only for a few drinks." Nigel looked up suddenly. "But why is he expecting a promotion? Did anyone mention the promotion to him? " "I mentioned it," said Bradford without regret. "I think he should be able to get a promotion after all this shit is over." Nigel made a brief note in his notebook, smiling wistfully. Anyway, she waited until evening, then took Tom to the Hilton, checked the houses across the way, and finally found the well-bred old Greek in a basement, just as Magnus described it.But the Greek hadn't seen Magnus for a week, and Mary hadn't stayed for a cup of coffee.When they got back to the hotel, they found Magnus, two days unshaven, in the same clothes he had worn when he disappeared, sitting in the courtyard eating bacon and eggs, drunk.Not stupidly drunk, he wouldn't have done it.Not angry drunk, not sentimental, not provocative, not impulsive, because drinking always only made him defensive.Is courteous drunkenness, and therefore, unprecedentedly tender and amiable, and his story is impeccably woven, but with one rare error. "I'm sorry, mates. Me and Demetrius got drunk. I'm too drunk to pass out. Huh, Tom." "Huh," said Tom. "Who is Dimitri?" asked Mary. "You know who Dimitri is. The old Greek travel agent who prayed across the street from the Hilton." "The educated one." "it's him." "last night?" "I remember, old girl, but last night seemed like forever." "Dimitri hasn't seen you since last Monday. An hour ago, he told us himself. " Magnus thought.Tom found a copy of The Athens News and stood at the next table intently watching the movie version. "You investigate me, Mal. You shouldn't be doing this." “我没有调查你，我是在找你！” “别在这里吵，姑娘。其他人在吃饭，你看。” “我没吵。是你在吵。失踪两天，带着满口谎言回来的人可不是我。汤姆，回你的房间，亲爱的。我很快就上去。” 汤姆离开了，脸上挂着灿烂的微笑，表示他什么也没听见。马格纳斯喝了一大口咖啡。然后他抓住玛丽的手，亲了一下，轻轻地拉她坐在身旁的椅子上。 “你希望听到我告诉你什么，玛儿？我和妓女饮酒作乐，还是我的线人出了问题？” “你干吗不实话实说？” 这个建议让他发笑。不恶毒，也不讥讽。他只是带着悲哀的宽容接纳这一切，正如他解决了世界贫穷问题或赢了腕力比赛之后，对汤姆露出的神情。 “你知道吗？”他又吻了她的手，把它贴近脸颊。 “生活里什么都摆脱不了。”她很诧异地在他的短须上感觉到一片湿濡，他落泪了。 “我在宪法广场，对吧？从布列塔格尼酒吧出来。专心想我的事。怎么回事？我直直地撞进一个我以前用过的捷克线人怀抱里。一个不折不扣的坏蛋，瞎掰胡编，给我们惹了很多麻烦。他像这样抓住我的手臂。'曼彻斯特上校！曼彻斯特上校！'他威胁要向警察告发我是个英国间谍，如果我不给他钱的话。他说我是他在这世上仅剩的朋友。 '和我一起去喝酒，曼彻斯特上校。就像以前一样。'所以我去了，灌他个烂醉，然后溜之大吉。 我自己恐怕也醉了。任务呐。我们上床吧。 " 他们上床了。也做爱了。两个陌生人绝望地交欢，而汤姆正在隔壁读他的奇幻故事。两天之后，他们动身到蛇怪岛，但蛇怪岛太狭小，也太不吉利，一时之间无处可去，只能到斯贝采，这个时节我们应该没有问题。汤姆问说贝吉可不可以加入进来，马格纳斯说不行，她绝对不可以，因为他们全都想来，他打算写作的时候，可不想有一群雷德勒家人来扰乱思绪。在其他方面，除了喝酒之外，马格纳斯表现得比以前更贴心、更有礼貌。 She stopped.就像画到一半退后几步瞧瞧一样，回顾到目前为止的这个故事。她喝了一些威士忌，点了一根烟。 “天哪。”布拉德福轻声说。没有下文。 奈吉尔在他那特小号的手指背面找到一块死皮，小心翼翼地剥下来。 又是在莱兹波斯，另一个黎明，但同一张希腊床，波洛马利城也再次醒来，尽管玛丽祈祷它继续沉睡，祈祷钟声会逐渐隐退，太阳会落到刚刚升起的山丘背后，因为今天是星期一，昨天汤姆已回学校。玛丽在枕头下放着证据，她承诺把他送她保平安的兔子皮塞在下面，以及——仿佛她需要用来增强决心似的——他离开之前对她说的最后那些话的恐怖记忆。玛丽和马格纳斯载他到机场，在下一次远离之前好好审度他。玛丽和汤姆站着等待登机广播，两个人几乎没能碰一下。马格纳斯在吧台给汤姆买了一袋开心果带在路上，也给自己买了一杯茴香酒打发时间。玛丽检查了六次汤姆的护照、钱、给合监说明他患虾疹的信，以及他写给外婆的信，要在伦敦机场见到外婆时立即交给她，亲爱的，这样你就不会忘掉了。但汤姆比平常更魂不守舍；他望着背后的主人口，看着人们穿过旋转门，他脸上有种奋不顾身的决绝，那么强烈，让玛丽不禁怀疑他是不是想要冲上前去。 “妈？”他魂不守合时仍这样叫她。 “嗯，亲爱的。” “他们在这里，妈。” "Who?" “那两个从波洛马利来的露营的人。他们坐在摩托车上，在机场的停车场里，盯着老爸看。” “听着，亲爱的，别说了。”玛丽坚定地反驳，决定赶走这些阴影，所有的。 “就是别说了，好吗？” “只有我认得出他们，你知道。我今天早上想明白了，我记得。他们就是在科孚的板球场外开车兜圈子的那两个人，老爸的朋友还一直要他上车。” 有那么一会儿，尽管玛丽已经历过这痛苦不下十余次，她仍想高声尖叫：“留下来——别走——我才不在乎你那该死的教育——留下来陪我。”但她没这么做，她愚蠢地隔着栅栏和他挥手，把眼泪留到回程的车上。马格纳斯永远对她绝对地温柔。现在是第二天早上，汤姆差不多己抵达学校了，玛丽瞪着克里亚，凯蒂纳腐朽的百叶窗，天光无情地从裂缝里射进光线，她努力想不听底下水管的眶当声以及水花飞溅在火石板上的水声，那是马格纳斯在享受他的清晨淋浴。 “噢呀，天哪！你醒了，女孩？天下金钱雨啰，相信我！” 相信你，她又对自己说了—遍，缩进床单更深处。十五年来，他从没叫过她女孩，直到来了这里。现在，她突然整天都是女孩了，仿佛他唤醒了她的性别意识似的。仅一幅之宽的地板隔开了她与他的距离，倘若她有勇气往床边看，就会在几条木地板的距离外瞥见他陌生赤裸的身体。 皮姆没得到她的响应，一边冲水一边哼起吉尔伯特与苏利文的歌剧。 “清晨早起，我们点起火……我唱得如何啊？”他大叫，他就只会唱这么多了。 在另一段生活里，玛丽在音乐方面小有名气。 在普拉煦，她领导了一个还算有水平的合唱团。 加入总部之后，她在“公司”的合唱团担任独唱。 以前只是没人放唱片给你听，她常这样对他说，虽未言明，其实是归咎于他第一任妻子贝琳达。 有一天你会唱得像说得一样好听，亲爱的。 她深吸一口气：“唱得比卡罗索还好！”她大叫。 意见交流已完成，马格纳斯可以继续冲澡了。 “进行得很顺利，玛儿。真的很顺利。七页隽永的文章。只是初稿，但真的很好。” "great." 他开始刮胡子。她听得见他在塑料洗脸盆里敲净刮胡刀的声音。刀片，她想：噢，天哪，我忘了帮他买该死的刀片了。往返机场的路上，她一直觉得自己忘掉了什么东西，因为这些天来，鸡毛蒜皮的小事对她来说都是天大的事。现在我得去买奶酪作午餐。现在我得买面包来配奶酪。 她闭上眼睛，又重重地吸了一口气。 “你昨晚睡了吗？”她问。 “睡得像死人一样。你没注意吗？” 是的，我注意到了。我注意到你半夜两点偷偷溜下床，蹑手蹑脚地下楼到工作室去。我注意到你踱来踱去，然后停下脚步。我听见你椅子发出嘎吱嘎吱的声音，还有你开始动笔之后那只毛毡尖钢笔发出的沙沙低语。写给谁？用什么声音？which one? 一阵音乐声盖过了他刮胡刀的声音。他打开了他那台聪明的收音机，听英国国家广播公司的“世界新闻”。马格纳斯有很精准的时间概念，一分不差，白天黑夜都相同。他如果看自己的手表，也只是为了确认脑海中的时间表。她麻木地听着没人能控制的事故。一颗炸弹在贝鲁特爆炸。 萨尔瓦多的一个小镇被夷为平地。英镑贬值。或升值。俄国人将退出下一届奥运会，或终究还是会参加。马格纳斯对政治很有领悟力，就像太聪明而不敢打赌的赌徒。噪音逐渐越来越大，因为马格纳斯把收音机带到楼上来，水滴下来了，滴下来了，他全身赤裸，只穿着一双拖鞋。他俯身抱住她，她闻到刮胡皂的味道，还有他写作时所抽的希腊淡烟。 “还想睡？” "A little." “老鼠还好吧？” 玛丽在花园里找到一只几乎开膛破肚了的老鼠，带回来照顾。现在老鼠躺在汤姆房间的一个稻草盒里。 “我还没去看呢。”她说。 他吻她耳旁，雷火乍现，接着开始爱抚她的胸部，表示想要她接纳他，但她只草草地说“等会儿”，就转过身去。她听见他水淋淋地走向衣橱，她听见老旧的门奋力抗拒，终于还是摇摇晃晃地开了。如果他选了短裤，那么就是要去散步。 如果他选了牛仔裤，那么就是要进城去和那些无所事事的人喝酒厮混。 “叫我派奇”的帕克上校，我的希腊小男友，和我系着皮带像只茶壶的梗犬。 艾尔西和依瑟尔，从利物浦来的同性恋退休女教师。约克什么的，我在丹第有点儿小生意。马格纳斯拉出一件衬衫，套了进去。她听见他系紧短裤的声音。 “你要去哪儿？”她说。 "walk." “等等我。我和你一起去。你可以和我谈谈。” 突然替她把话说出口的是谁——这个成熟、坦率、切中要点的女人？ 马格纳斯和她一样惊讶：“谈什么，老天哪？” “你到底在担心什么，亲爱的。我不在乎。 只要告诉我，不管是什么，那我就不必——” “不必怎么样？” “压抑。视而不见。” “胡说。一切都很好。我们只是因为汤姆离开而有些忧郁罢了。”他向她走过来，让她躺回到枕头上，好像她病了似的。 “你再睡一会儿，我去走走。我们在客栈碰面，大约三点。” 只有马格纳斯能让克里亚，凯蒂纳的前门如此轻声地关上。 突然之间，玛丽坚强起来。他的离去解放了她。breathe.她走到北面的窗户，所有的事都计划好了。她以前就做过这些事，也记得自己的技巧如何娴熟，常比男人还沉稳。在柏林时，每当杰克需要人手，玛丽就负责监视，从门房手里骗到房间钥匙，在危险的桌上偷换文件，载惊恐的线人到安全公寓去。我比我自己了解的还要拿手，她想。杰克常常赞叹我的冷静和锐利的眼光。望出窗户，她看见那条新铺好的路蜿蜒上山。有时他会走这条路，但今天没有。打开窗户，她探出身子，似乎要尽情享受这美好的地方与清晨。那个巫婆凯蒂纳早早就在挤羊奶，表示她去过市场了。玛丽很快瞥一眼干涸的河床，在小石桥的阴影下，同样的那两个年轻男子又在修他们的德国车牌摩托车。如果他们两人像这样出现在维也纳的房子外面，玛丽会立即找马格纳斯，必要时会打电话到大使馆给他。 “今天的天使看起来飞得很低。”她会这样说。而马格纳斯会马上采取行动——通知外交巡逻队，派他的手下去查他们的底细。但此刻僻居异地，他们似乎都同意对这些天使，无论如何可疑，都应该视而不见。 他的工作室在一楼。他没锁门，但他们之间一直谨守约定，除非有他的特别召唤，否则她不进去。她转开门把，走了进去。护窗板关上了，但没能挡住上方的窗玻璃，因此有光线可以让她看得见。她步履沉重，告诉自己，记得受过的训练。如果你一定得要弄出噪音，就弄个大的吧。 房里陈设简单，是马格纳斯喜欢的样子。一张书桌，一把椅子，还有一张单人床，可以让他在撰写初稿的泉涌文思问略歇一会儿。她拉开椅子，拿开一瓶伏特加。书桌上满是书和纸，但她什么也没碰。他那本陈旧麻布装订的《痴儿西木传》依然高踞案头。他的吉祥物。他的珍宝。这是玛丽的绝对禁忌，他绝不让她装裱。因为我喜欢它现在的样子，他顽固地说。我拿到它的时候就是这个样子。一定是某个女人给的，毋庸置疑。 “给永非吾人仇敌的马格纳斯阁下”，上面用德文题了宇。去她的。去她的古怪小名。 布拉德福再次打断她。 “现在在哪里，那本书？” 玛丽颇有困难，也很不情愿回到现实。 但布拉德福很坚持：“不在他楼下的书桌上。 我也没在客厅看到。也不在卧房或汤姆的房间里。 Where? " “我告诉你了，”她说，“他到哪里都带着那本书。” “你没告诉我，但谢谢你。”布拉德福反驳说。 她戴了一双棉手套，避免留下汗渍或污痕。 他必施诡计。他做这些事完全出于本能。他的旧手提箱躺在地板上，箱盖大开，但她碰也没碰。 其他的书仿佛随意散放在桌面，像镇纸般压住手稿。她看看书名。一本德文书《自由与良知》，作者她听都没听过。旁边是一本马多克斯·福特的《好士兵》，是马格纳斯这些天来捧读不倦的书，简直已经成了他的《圣经》。再旁边是一本旧相册。她轻轻地打开不熟悉的封面，没移动位置，翻过几页。八岁的马格纳斯穿着足球衣，在球队里。五岁的马格纳斯在阿尔卑斯山，紧抓着滑雪橇。马格纳斯约莫是汤姆的年纪，已有着他过度欣然的微笑，邀请你进入，却不期待受到邀请。马格纳斯与贝琳达在度蜜月，两个人看起来都不超过十二岁的样子。她以前没见过这些照片。合上封面，玛丽退后一步，再次审视书桌上的陈设。如此一来，他的手法在她眼里便一览无遗。这三本书看似随意散放在纸上，其实是以剪纸刀为中心对齐成一列。玛丽到厨房抓了一条抹布来，铺在书桌旁的地板上，然后用她戴了手套的手掌量桌上每一件物品之间的距离。她像撕开伤口上的绷带似的，轻轻地把每一样东西按原来排列的方式摆在抹布上。桌上的纸张已可供她自由翻阅。她没料想到会有这么多灰尘。光是走过地板就弄出一大团烟雾来。 “我是个盗墓人。”她想，烟尘呛得她喉咙发烫。 她凝视着一叠手写的稿件：最顶上的一页删涂得一片乌黑。她拿起手稿，没动其他的东西。她拿到小床上，坐了下来。她小时候在普拉煦，他们管这叫“吉姆游戏”，每年除夕都要玩，像演戏、玩谋杀、跳苏格兰舞一样。 在训练所里，她应该已经是个成年人了，他们管这叫“观测”，在戴德姆、曼宁特里和贝霍尔特了无生气的村落里玩：这个星期有谁的门粉刷了，玫瑰修剪了，买新车了，18号的门阶上有几瓶牛奶？但无论在哪里玩，玛丽总是遥遥领先；她天生有照相机般的记忆力，能注意到极微小的差异。 一部小说的片断，她告诉布拉德福，全是开头。 有十几个第一章，有些打字，有些手写，但全都删得乱七八糟。大部分的内容在讲述一个孤儿班恩的故事。 涂鸦。画着一条偷偷伸出来的手臂。女人的胯下。 写给自己看的注记，骂声连连：“滥情的垃圾”——“重写或丢掉”——“你忽略了男人对孩子的咒骂”——“有一天文沃斯会抓到我们”。一个粉红色的文件夹标示着“散页”。班恩对权威屈服。班恩发现有另一个真正的情报单位，毫不迟疑地加入。一个蓝色的文件夹标示着“最后场景”，其中有好几张是写给波比的，亲爱的天杀的波比。有一张从她的素描簿里偷来的画纸，马格纳斯画上一串相连的思想泡泡，表达出他的想法，这也是汤姆在学校学会的准备论文的方法。 泡泡：“如果万物痛恨虚无，虚无又如何看待万物？”泡泡：“口是心非让你取悦某人，却得罪另一人。”泡泡：“我们之所以爱国，是因为我们怕四海为家；我们之所以四海为家，是因为我们怕爱国。” 有人敲门，但布拉德福对乔琪摇摇头，告诉她别理会。 “那不是他真实的写作。”玛丽说，“太吞吞吐吐了。总是写了一段，就突然停住，好像他心痛得无法继续。” 布拉德福没诅咒心痛的人。 “还有呢。”他说，“还有呢，快说。” “是我，长官。”傅格斯从门外叫道，“紧要消息，长官。非常急。” “我说等一下。”布拉德福命令道。 “'班恩生活的体系完全崩溃了。'”玛丽继续说，“'他的生活全是创造出来的假相，完全不真实。现在，真实来找他了，而他逃了。他的文沃斯就站在门口。'” "what's next?" 布拉德福居高临下地对她说。 “'瑞克创造了我，瑞克快死了。一旦瑞克放掉手中的线，会如何呢？'” "continue." “一句引自《路加福音》的话。我从没见过他打开《圣经》。'对琐事忠诚者，对大事亦忠诚。'” "and then?" “对琐事不诚实者，对大事亦不诚实。'他在纸张边缘一连画了好几个小时。不同的墨水。” "anything else?" 州文沃斯是瑞克的复仇女神。而波比是我的。 我们两人都付出了一生的时间，努力弥补我们加在他们身上的事。 '" "what's next?" “'现在每个人都在追查我。'公司'在追查我，美国人在追查我，你在追查我。甚至可怜的玛丽也在追查我，而她根本不知道你的存在。'” “你是谁？在他的诗里谁是这个你？” “波比。我的命运。最亲爱的波比，最好最好的朋友，叫你那些天杀的走狗滚开我门前。” “波比像是花名。”布拉德福提出看法，他跪在她身旁，推开乔琪的麦克风。 “像壁炉烟囱里的花。不过是单数。只有一个波比。” "That's right." “而文沃斯像个地名。阳光普照的文沃斯。 在品位高雅的萨里？ " "yes." “认识他吗？——或是她——任何叫这个名字的人？” "do not know." “波比呢？” "do not know." "continue." “还有第八章。”她说，“完全出乎意料。 没有第二到第七章，但有第八章，全是手写，没有删改。标题是'过期支票'，虽然第一章并没有标题。描写有一天班恩开始违抗他所有的承诺。 从第三人称又回到第一人称，一直持续用第一人称叙述。而第一章用的是'他'和'班恩'。'债主在敲门，文沃斯领头。但班恩没当一回事。我低下头，抬起肩膀，从他们身边走过，他们痛殴我的脸时，我又打又敲又撞。但即使脸已粉碎，我仍做三十五年前就该做的事，对杰克、瑞克，和所有的姆妈、父亲，我看着你偷走我的生命。 波比、杰克、你们其他人，让我这一辈子——这一辈子——辈子——'” She stopped.她的呼吸憋住了。门打开，傅格斯闯了进来，无视于纪律存在是绝对会让他受惩处的行为。奈吉尔面无表情地盯着他。乔琪把目光移到他身上，指着门，用唇语说出去，但傅格斯动也不动。 “一辈子怎么样，看在老天的分上？”布拉德福在她耳边大叫。 她低声轻语。她大声尖叫。她与嘴里的话奋战不休，呻吟催迫，但连一个字都说不出来。布拉德福摇着她，起初轻轻的，接着越来越用力，最后真的非常用力。 “背叛。”她说，“'我们背叛忠诚。背叛就像是想像现实不够美好。'他这样写。背叛如同希望与补偿。如同创造更美好的园地。背叛如同爱情。如同对我们自己未曾体验过的生活的礼赞。一句又一句，都是这些烦死人的背叛格言。 背叛如同逃避。如同建设性的行动，如同理念的声扬。worship.如同灵魂的探险。背叛如同旅行：如果我们未曾离开家，如何发现新天地呢？ '你是我的应许之地，波比，你让我的谎言有了理由。 '" 就在她读到这一句时，她解释说——有关波比与应许之地的这一句——她转过头，就看见穿着短裤的马格纳斯站在工作室敞开的门口，一手拿着一个蓝色的大信封，另一手拿着电报，脸上的微笑像他学校里带头的男生。 “他里面有另一个人。”玛丽说，她吓坏了。 "That's not him." “这到底是什么意思？你刚才说是马格纳斯站在门口。你到底看见什么了？” She doesn't know either. “他年轻的时候发生过一些事。 有人站在门口看着他。他是在报复。我从他脸上可以看得出来。 " “他说了什么？”奈吉尔伸出援手。 她学马格纳斯的声音，或许只有脸部的表情。 空虚，但无法看透。仍然非常礼貌：“哈啰，老情人。可以和伟大的小说相提并论吧，是不是？ 恐怕还赶不上简·奥斯丁，但等我好好编排，有些部分还用得上。 " 抹布铺在地板上，他的书和一半的纸张放在上面。但他带着电报走向她，脸上挂着胜利与解脱的微笑。她接过电报，走近窗边去看。或许只是要分散他对书桌的注意力。 “是你打来的，杰克。”她说，“用你的化名维克多，写给皮姆的化身潘布洛克。马上回来，你说。一切都已原谅。委员会上午十点在维也纳重新召开会议。维克多。” 布拉德福终于不慌不忙地转头向傅格斯。 “你到底要干什么？”他说。 傅格斯说话的方式就像汤姆被晾在一边很久，等待大人让他加入时一样。 “大使馆情报站职员送来的大消息，长官。” 他不假思索地冲口而出，“他用密码打电话来，我才刚解开。情报站的烧盒从保险室里失踪了。” 奈吉尔摆出一个可笑的姿势，想缓和这一触即发的气氛。他举起心爱的双手，用指尖柔柔地指着天上，像吹干指甲油似的摆动。但仍跪在玛丽身边的布拉德福，却好像突然得了昏病似的。 他缓缓地站起来，缓缓地将手划过唇间，仿佛他舌尖尝到了坏味道。 “什么时候失踪的？” “不知道，长官。没有迹象。他们已经找了一个小时了，还是找不到。他们就只知道这些。 还有一张外交信差卡和盒子放在一起，也失踪了。 " 玛丽还没进人情况。同步器出了差错，她想。 谁站在门口，傅格斯或马格纳斯？杰克耳聋了。 盘问不休的杰克用完弹药了。 “档案处的警卫说，星期四一大早，皮姆先生要去机场之前先绕到大使馆。警卫没想到要问，因为他没记进日志。上楼，下楼，很遗憾听到他父亲的事，长官。但他下楼时带着他那个很重的黑色包包。” “那个警卫完全没想到要问他？” “他当然没想到，长官，是不是？他父亲过世，而且他很匆忙。” “还有其他东西不见了吗？” “没有，长官，只有烧盒，长官，到目前为止他只拿走这个东西，还有我提过的那张卡。” “你要到哪里去？”玛丽说。 奈吉尔站起来，扯着他背心的镶边，而布拉德福则准备动身，把东西往外套口袋里塞。他的黄色香烟。他的钢笔和笔记本。他的旧德国打火机。 “什么是烧盒？”玛丽掩住惊慌说，“你要到哪里去？我在说话。坐下！” 布拉德福终于记起她的存在，俯视着坐下的她。 “你不知道，对不对？”他说，“你当然不知道。你是第九级。你层级不够高，所以不知道。” 解释很麻烦，但看在过去的分上他勉力而为。 “烧盒顾名思义就是一个小的金属盒。在这里，指的是一个外交锦囊，钢丝衬里的。只要一下令就立即烧毁，不管里面装的是什么东西。那是情报站首脑放他皇冠上宝石的地方。” “那么里面装了什么？” 奈吉尔和布拉德福互相交换眼神。傅格斯仍瞪大眼睛。 “里面装了什么？”她重复道，一阵不同以往、更难捉摸的恐惧开始攫住她。 “噢，不多。”布拉德福说，“当地的情报干员。我们所有的捷克人，几个波兰人，一两个匈牙利人，几乎就是我们从维也纳所操控的一切，或以前所做的。谁是文沃斯？” “你问过了。我不知道。一个地名。烧盒里还有什么？” “这样啊，一个地名。” 她失去他了。Jack.gone.失去了他——一个情人，一个朋友，一个上司。当她告诉他山姆的死讯时，他有着一张如同她父亲的面容。爱已离他远去，他仅余的信心也随之而去。 “你早知道。”他漠然说。他正走向门边，甚至没看她一眼。 “你老早就知道，这么多年了。” 我们都知道，她想。但她无心，或者在此情况下没有兴趣这样对他说。 仿佛探访时间终了的铃声响起似的，奈吉尔也准备离去。 “现在