"My dear Kitty, we Germans can create economic miracles, but we can't make salads," Thomas Levin said to the pretty brunette. "Yes, sir," answered Kitty.Her breath was a little short as she spoke, for she was madly in love with the personable employer in front of her.Now she stood in the kitchen and looked affectionately at Thomas Levin beside her.Thomas Levine, wearing an apron over his dark blue evening dress with narrow lapels, was holding a napkin with two green plants on it.Who was he, Kitty wondered, her eyes shining.The master who owns a villa can operate so skillfully and freely in the kitchen of her territory, which ignites the fire of love in her chest. "Correctly mixing salad has almost become a lost craft." Thomas Levin said: "In central Germany it is made sweet and tastes like a sour dessert; Sour as rabbit food; and in North Germany, housewives even use salad oil. Hey, that thing is only used to wipe door locks.”

"Yes, sir." Kitty was still out of breath.Church bells rang in the distance.It was nineteen o'clock on April 11, 1957. April 11, 1957, seemed no different from any other day.Not so with Thomas Levine.Because on this day, he thought he could end a history of messy crimes.Thomas Levin, who just turned forty-eight on this day, lives in a rented villa in the high-end residential area of ​​Schiesling Avenue in Dusseldorf. He has a considerable deposit in the Rhine-Main Bank, and There is also a German-made luxury racing car worth 32,000 marks. Nearly fifty years old, Thomas Levin was in good condition. He was slender and dark-skinned, with a pair of clever, slightly melancholy eyes and a sentimental mouth on his narrow face. His black hair was cut short and his temples were slightly Some grizzled.Thomas Levine was not married.Neighbors knew him as a gentleman of few words, and although they were somewhat displeased with his tight-lipped and secretive ways, they all considered him a well-behaved businessman in the Federal Republic of Germany.

"My dear Kitty," said Thomas Levin, "you are very pretty and young, and it goes without saying that you have much to learn. Will you learn a little from me?" "Willing to..." Kitty's voice was very soft. "Well, I'm going to teach you the recipe for making a delicious cold dish. What did we do just now?" Kitty curtseyed and recalled: "Two hours ago we rinsed two fresh vegetables, and then removed the vegetables. Stem, pick out the young leaves..." "And what about the young leaves?" Thomas Levin continued. "Put them on a napkin and then you shake the napkin..."

"It's a napkin, dear Kitty, to get all the water out. It's extremely important that the leaves are dry. But let's focus on making the salad dressing for now. Please pass I have a glass bowl and a salad cooker!" Kitty accidentally touched the master's slender fingers, and a sweet feeling rushed over her.What kind of man was he, she wondered again... "...salad must never touch metal," said Thomas Levin.Kitty gazed obsessively at the slender hand of her master, and listened to his explanation with growing awe. "To make the sauce," continued Thomas Levin, "take a pinch of pepper, a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of hot mustard, and add a hard-boiled egg. Chop up the egg, add parsley and a few shallots, and Four tablespoons of real Italian olive oil are needed. Kitty, bring the oil, please!" Kitty offered the olive oil, blushing. "I said four tablespoons. Well, now add a quarter of a liter of fresh cream, sour or sweet, it depends on everyone's taste. I like sour..."

At this moment, the kitchen door opened, and a tall and strong man walked in.He was wearing black and gray striped trousers, blue and white striped casual clothes, and a white bow tie on his white shirt. His short hair covered his head. "What's the matter, Bastian?" Thomas Levine asked.The valet named Bastian replied in a clear and pleasant French accent: "Manager Schallenberg is here." "Oh, that's right on time, right to the minute," said Thomas.He took off his apron and said, "Dinner will be served in ten minutes, and Bastian will serve. And you, dear boy, you can go."

"How does Mr. Manager look?" asked Thomas Levin. "Same as usual," said the big man, "fat and strong, with a bull's neck and a ball belly, a real country bumpkin." Thomas put on his evening coat when he suddenly realized something and reproached sharply: "Bastian, You've had brandy again!" "It's just a small sip, and I'm a little happy for a while." "Forget it! When I do things, I need you to have a clear head. If you are drunk, you can't hit Mr. Manager." "This fat man, even if I am in a coma due to alcoholism, I can handle it."

"Shut up, remember the ringtone?" "Remember." "Repeat." "The bell rang once and I served the food; the bell rang twice and I brought the copy; the bell rang three times and I brought out the boxing bag." "As long as you don't mess things up," said Thomas Levine, manicuring his nails, "I shall thank you." "This soup is amazing!" Manager Schallenberg said.He leaned back and wiped his thin lips with a Damascus napkin. "Mrs. Carlson," Thomas said.And pressed a button under the table with his hand, and the bell rang. "What madam?" Sharon Bell didn't hear clearly. "Carlson's the name of the soup, turtle meat with sherry and crème fraîche."

"Oh, not bad!" The flame of the candle on the table flickered, and Bastian walked in lightly and brought the spicy chicken.Manager Schellenberg was full of praise because of this: "Ah, delicious food, indeed delicious food! Mr. Levin, it is really a pleasure that you invite me as a guest. But you originally wanted to discuss business with me here... " "As long as there is delicious food, we can discuss everything, Mr. Manager. You can order some more rice, it will be right in front of you." "Thank you, Mr. Levin. Now tell me, what is this business?"

"More salad?" "No, thank you. You're talking business!" "All right, then," Thomas said. "Mr. Manager, you have a big paper mill." "That's what happened. Yes, there are two hundred workers in the factory, and everything has been rebuilt from the ruins." "A great achievement. Come, I wish you well..." Thomas Levine raised his glass. "As ordered." "Mr. Manager, as far as I know, your factory produces high-grade transparent watermark patterned paper." "yes." "You also supply this paper to the German steel companies for the printing of the new shares they are offering on the market."

"Yes, it's the stock of Desteel. To tell you the truth, this matter is really troublesome, and the inspection is endless. It's just that people who are afraid of me print a few stocks by themselves. Hahaha!" "Hahaha, Mr. Manager. I would like to order fifty sheets of this kind of transparent watermark pattern paper from your factory." "What do you... want?" "Fifty sheets of paper. You are the head of the company, and you should have no difficulty in avoiding inspection." "My God, but what on earth do you want these papers for?"

"Of course it's the DF stock. What do you think?" Manager Schallenberg folded his napkin apologetically and said, "I'm afraid I should go." "Don't go, there's mac and cheese toast with wine sauce." The manager stood up. "I said, sir, I'm going to forget that I've ever been here." "I doubt you'll ever forget it," Thomas said, grabbing more food from his plate. "Why are you standing there, leader of the national defense economy? Sit down!" Schallenberg's face turned pale, and he asked in a low voice, "What did you say?" "I said you should sit down, the chicken will be cold." "What did you just say about the leader of the defense economy?" "I did, and it was you. Although you forgot that title in 1945, for example, on the questionnaire you filled out, your name was Marko." "You are talking nonsense!" "Where did you come from? You used to be the head of defense economics in the Walter branch of the Nazi Party, and you are still on the list of war criminals that the Polish government requests extradition to stand trial. Of course it says Marko, not Schallenberg. ”The manager of Schellenberg collapsed in the old-fashioned Flemish soft chair and said weakly: “I really don’t understand why I have to hear people say this to me.” Thomas Levin sighed: “Oh, you see , Mr. Manager. I too have had a troubled past and would like to make a clean break with it. That is why I need your paper, counterfeiting is too time consuming, I have a reliable printer... Have a drink of champagne, it will refresh you... You see, Mr. Manager. At the end of the war, I was able to look through all the secret files. At that time, you were hiding in Leisparten..." "lie!" "Sorry, I mean the Rosenheim Linden Manor." Manager Schallenberg raised his hand weakly. "I knew you were hiding there, and in my position I could have had you arrested. But I asked myself what would you get out of it? They would lock him up and extradite him to the Polish government. so what?" "Besides, I think if you don't touch him, the old man will come back in a few years. These kinds of people don't go down and down, they always have to show up again and again..." "Shameless!" A hoarse cry came from the wooden soft chair. "...and then he'll be of great use to you. That's what I thought at the time. Look, it's the right move." Schallenberg stood up with difficulty and said, "I'm Go to the police station and surrender." "There's a phone next to it." Thomas pressed the button under the table twice.Bastian came in quietly again, holding a silver tray with some photocopies on it. "Please do it yourself," Thomas said, "these copies include a photo of Mr. Manager in military uniform, a proclamation issued by Mr. Manager from 1941 to 1944, and a copy of the so-called Nazi Reich Chancellor's document." Receipt for the donation of 100,000 Reichsmarks to the SA and SS." Manager Schallenberg sat down again. "You can take down the plate, Bastian. Mr. Manager has finished eating." "Okay, sir." After Bastian left, Thomas said: "In addition, there is 50,000 of your donation. How about it, are these materials enough?" "I will never allow blackmail against me!" "Didn't you also make a huge contribution to the last general election, Mr. Manager? What's the name of that German news magazine that's interested in such things?" "You are talking nonsense! You want to forge stocks?! You will go to jail! I will go to jail with you! If I give you the paper, I will be finished!" "I can't go to jail. If you don't give me the paper, you will be finished, Mr. Manager." Thomas said and pressed the button: "Pay attention, and see how the candied apple tastes." "I don't want to eat a bite from you, you blackmailer!" "So when can I get the paper, Mr. Manager?" "Don't even think about it!" Schallenberg was extremely angry, "You can never expect to get even a piece of paper from me." It was nearly midnight, and Thomas Levin and his servant Bastian were sitting in front of the fireplace in the study.Flames flickered in the hearth, and the colorful spines of hundreds of books shone in the half-light.A phonograph was spinning, and the melody of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 echoed softly in the room.Thomas Levine was still in his spotless evening dress.Bastian opened the collar of his shirt and put his feet on a chair—of course, he glanced sideways at his master before placing a newspaper on it. "The paper will come in a week, Mr. Manager," said Thomas Levine. "How long will it take your friend to print it?" "About ten days," Bastian replied, lifting a glass of brandy to his lips. "Then I will go to Zurich on May 1st, Labor Day." Thomas said and handed Bastian a stock and a watch: "This is a sample for imitation, and the watch is what I want. Sequential number printed on stock." "If I knew what you were going to do..." the thick, short-haired servant murmured enviously.Bastian only uses the affectionate "you" when he knows that he and his master are absolutely alone.He had known Thomas for seventeen years, and he had never been a servant before.Bastian has followed Thomas since he met him in Marseille.Besides, he had had several adventures with Thomas.These things bind the two together. "Tommy, won't you tell me your plan?" "Dear Bastian, it's actually a perfectly legal and good thing. This stock scam I'm running is a noble one. I can swear to it that no one will see it. Everyone will make money and everyone will be satisfied. ’” Thomas Levine smiled, and produced a gold pocket watch.This is his father's item.The flat, spring-topped watch accompanied Thomas through all the dangers and stayed by his master's side in that desperate race.Time and time again Thomas Levine succeeded in hiding it, protecting it, recapturing it.He opened the spring cover, and the timekeeping mechanism inside and outside the watch made a sound like a silver bell.Thomas mused, "I'm going to Switzerland under a different name just to be on the safe side. Let's see, what other German passports are there?" He took a stack of passports from the safe and began to read them with a smile. : "Jakob Hauser...Peter Soinier...Baron Ludwig von Trendelenburg...Wilfried Otter...My God, can these names What memories it brings up!" "You used the name Trendelon to resell Cadillas cars to Rio de Janeiro. I think it's better to let the baron rest! Hauser has worked hard enough, and others have been arresting him in France." Basty Ann said. "Please take a seat, Mr. Otter. Is there anything you want to do?" The head of the securities department put down the simple business card with Wilfried Otter, a Düsseldorf industrialist, and asked.The chief of the section is Jule Vermont, and the stock and securities section is located on the second floor of the Swiss Central Bank in Zurich.Thomas Levin, who called himself Wilfried Otter, asked: "Are you French, sir?" "Mother is French." "Let's speak French, then." Jules Vermont's face suddenly brightened. "Can I open a numbered account in your bank?" "Of course, sir." "I just bought some new shares of the German Steel Conglomerate, and I want to deposit them in Switzerland. As I said just now, the passbook with the number does not lose the name..." "I see, that damned German tax, don't you?" Vermont blinked one eye. "So that I don't forget something," said Thomas Levine, "please have the stock slips cut out for me for 1958 and 1959. I don't know, when I'll be in Zurich again, So keep these dividend coupons with you, and you can cash them yourself when the time comes, so that you won't have to worry about it." After a while, everything was done.In the inner pocket of Thomas Levin's coat was a certificate of deposit from the Swiss Central Bank certifying that Wilfried Otter, an industrialist from Düsseldorf, West Germany, had deposited Wansey Deutsche Mark's new DF stock. Thomas Levine drove his racing car, which was so eye-catching even in Zurich, back to the Hotel Bauer am See where he was staying, and all the staff here liked him.He took the elevator back to his apartment.As soon as I entered the door, I went into the bathroom and washed the clipped 1958 and 1959 dividend coupons with water, so as not to cause trouble later.There is a telephone in the living room, and Thomas sits comfortably under a colorful parasol, looking at the boats floating on the sparkling water of Lake Zurich, thinking for a moment.Then he picked up a golden pencil and wrote an advertisement on a piece of hotel letterhead. There are German industrialists bidding for funds in Switzerland.Investors enjoy high interest rates, and fundraisers provide reliable guarantees.The investment period is two years.Bidders are required to provide genuine and credible bank evidence.Otherwise, it will not be considered. Two days later, this advertisement was published in a prominent position on the advertisement page of the "New Zurich Zeitung", and the postal code of the fundraiser was also indicated. After three days, forty-eight letters were received under this code.Thomas sat on the sunny balcony, carefully sorting the application letters.Two of them caught his special attention.One was typed out with a not-so-advanced typewriter on not-so-good letter paper, and the German grammar was not good enough. The sender proposed: "...if the interest interests me, the investment can reach one million Swiss Francs." The letter was signed at the end of the letter by Pierre Mürly, estate agent. The other letter was handwritten, with beautiful handwriting, and a golden five-pointed crown was printed on the center of the pale yellow refined letter paper.The letter is as follows: Thoughtfully, Thomas put the two disparate letterheads side by side, thinking that Pierre Moore must be a rich man, despite his stinginess.He bought cheap paper and used an old typewriter.Although this H. de Cuvier wrote it himself, he can use the best letter paper.Perhaps he was a count?Or Baron?Need to find out... Montnac Villa is located in a large garden on the southern slope of Zurich Mountain.A wide cobbled road winds its way up to a stately little mansion of gold with green shutters, and Thomas parks his car in front of the gate.A very arrogant valet suddenly appeared in front of him: "Is that Mr. Otter? Please follow me." He led Thomas into a gorgeous office.A slender and elegant young woman stood up from behind the small desk.She was about twenty-eight years old, with long, wavy chestnut hair that fell almost to her shoulders.Pink lips, brown eyes slanted up at the corners.High and raised cheekbones, silky eyebrows, soft and elastic skin. Thomas couldn't help but secretly startled. All his life, women with high eyes and high cheekbones had made him stand in awe.This type of person always acts as unapproachable, cold and pretentious.But once people get to know them better, all reservedness and stubbornness will cease to exist.The young woman looked at him gravely and said, "Hi, Mr. Otter. We've spoken on the phone, please sit down." She sat down, crossed one leg, and slipped her dress back.Hey, and beautiful long legs!Thomas thought. "Mr. Ott, you put out a bid to raise funds, and you said you would provide a surety. May I know what that means?" Thomas said to himself, which is a little too much.He also replied coldly: "I think you don't need to bother you about this matter. Please tell M. de Couville that I am here and that he wrote me a letter." "I wrote you a letter. My name is Helen de Couville, and I handle all cash transactions for my uncle." The young woman's voice was chilling. "So, what is the reliable guarantee you said?" Thomas smiled and nodded Bottom line: "The newly issued stocks of Desteel Union are stored in an account of the Swiss Central Bank. The face value is one million. The market price of the old stocks on the exchange is 217..." "What interest do you pay?" "Eight percent." "How much money do you want to raise?" Oh my god, those frosty eyes!Thomas called out quietly, "Seven hundred and fifty thousand Swiss francs." "What?" Thomas was surprised to find that Helen de Couville suddenly became uneasy.She licked her pink lips with the tip of her tongue, raised her eyebrows slightly, and asked, "Isn't this number—um—a bit too big, Mr. Ott?" "What? Do you mean the value of the stock exchange?" "Of course...yes...but..." she stood up and said, "I'm sorry, I think I'll have to call my uncle. Excuse me for waiting." He stood up.She turned away.He sat down again, and waited eight minutes, judging by the time given by the old pocket watch. The door opened, and Helen walked in with a tall, skinny man.The man had a dark face, a broad jaw, short iron-gray hair, and a white nylon shirt over a single-breasted jacket.Helen introduced: "My uncle, Baron Jacques de Couville." Thomas shook hands with the man, and became more suspicious.This guy has cowboy paws, that jaw that looks like he's chewing gum all the time, and that accent... If he's a French aristocrat, cut my head off!Now he resolved to be straightforward: "I'm afraid I've frightened your charming niece, Baron. Let us forget about it. It was a pleasure to know you." "Hey, Mr. Otter, don't be in such a hurry. Let's sit down and talk." The baron also looked a little embarrassed.He rang the bell and said, "Let's drink and talk in peace." The haughty servant brought the drink, but the whiskey was not Scottish but American.This Cuvier was getting more and more repulsive, Thomas thought.The baron raised his head again, and he admitted that he had originally considered a small investment: "...Maybe a hundred thousand?" "Let's not talk about it, Baron," Thomas said. "Or 150,000..." "Come, Baron. Come..." "Then two hundred thousand..." Cuvier almost begged. Then the haughty servant burst in to report a long-distance call, and the baron and his niece went out immediately.Thomas had nothing to do, and began to admire the various furnishings of this noble home.After almost ten minutes, the baron returned alone.He was pale and sweaty.This pathetic look almost moved Thomas to pity.However, he immediately got up and said goodbye. In the hall Thomas meets Helen."You're leaving, Mr. Otter?" she asked. "I've been bothering you for too long," Thomas finished, kissing her hand, and he smelled the perfume and the fragrance of her skin.Thomas said: "I would be very glad if you would have the honor of having dinner with me today. At Ball's Lakeside Hotel, or wherever you choose. Please come." "Mr. Ott." The voice seemed to come from a marble statue: "I don't know how much you drank, but what you said just now is because you drank too much. Goodbye!" Negotiations with the Baron Courville were fruitless, and by comparison the negotiations with the real estate agent Pierre Mully seemed smooth.Back at the hotel, Thomas called him and briefly talked about his plan, that is, the investment of 750,000 Swiss francs guaranteed by the Degang Union stock certificate of deposit. "Don't you want more?" Pierre Müller asked in guttural Swiss German. "No, that's enough," Thomas said, thinking he shouldn't be exaggerating, and the real estate agent went straight to the hotel.This guy has a red face, short stature, and a quick temper! The next day they drew up a contract with a notary, which read as follows: With the contract in mind, Thomas and Muir drove together to the central bank, where the deposit certificate was verified.Next, they went through the specific formalities in the office of Pierre Müller. The real estate agent handed over to the industrialist a cash check with a face value of 717,850 Swiss francs, handling fees and interest rates. Eighth two years of interest have all been deducted.In this way, Thomas got 717,850 Swiss francs in the so-called blink of an eye! A few hours later, when Thomas Levin, who went by the pseudonym Wilfried Otter, entered the lobby of the hotel, he saw Helene de Couville sitting in an armchair. "Hello, I'm so happy!" Helen slowly put down the fashion magazine in her hand, raised her head and said lazily, "Hey, hello." The weather was cool, but she was wearing a maroon dress. A pawpaw dress and a Canadian mink top, and all the men in the hall were staring at her.Thomas said, "You're a little late, but I'm glad you made it anyway." "Mr. Ott, please note that I'm not here to see you, but to see a girlfriend who lives here." Thomas was still unwilling: "If you can't do it today, why don't you come to have an aperitif tomorrow morning?" "Tomorrow I'm going on a long trip to Livia." Thomas clapped his hands together and said, "What a coincidence! Do you know that I'm going to Livia tomorrow too. I'll pick you up. Let's agree on eleven." How about an order?" "I will not go with you. Oh, here comes my friend." She got up and said, "I wish you all the best. Good-bye!" At seven past eleven o'clock the next morning, Helen drove a small car out of the gate of the manor and drove past Thomas.He nodded, but she turned her face away.Then he jumped into his car and followed.The car drove all the way to Grenoble without incident, and just after Grenoble Helen's car stopped.She got out of the car and Thomas pulled up next to her. "There's something wrong with the motor," she said.Thomas checked the motor, but couldn't find anything wrong.Helen had gone into a nearby house to call a car mechanic.After a while, the technician came, and after looking at the car, he said that the oil pump was so broken that the car had to be towed away. It would take at least two days to fix it.Thomas was absolutely sure the technician was lying to get his money off the hook.But for the moment he would be glad to meet such a liar.So he invited Helen to continue on his way in his car. "You are really willing to help people, Mr. Otter." She hesitated for a long time before saying.Thomas moved her luggage to his car and slipped a bounty to the scammer.During the next 100 kilometers of journey, Helen only said the only sentence when Thomas sneezed: "I wish you health!" Later she told Thomas that she went to Monte Carlo to date her fiancé. "Poor man," Thomas sighed, "he can't get anything from you." After arriving in Monte Carlo, Thomas sent Helen to the Paris hotel as he wanted.Here she learned that her fiancé was delayed in Paris and could not come. "I live in his suite," Thomas said. "Yes, sir," said the director of reception, putting away a five-thousand-franc note. "But if my fiancé comes again, then..." "Then he should be more sensible and stand aside." Thomas took the lead and pulled Helen aside, whispering in a low voice: "This person has no destiny with you at all, haven't you noticed? Everything is arranged by God." Helen couldn't help laughing suddenly. They spent two days together in Monte Carlo, then drove to Cannes and stayed at the Carlton Hotel, where Thomas had a good few days.He took Helen to Nice, St. Raphael, St. Maxime and St. Tropez.The two swim in the sea together, drive a jet ski and lie side by side on the beach... Helen's interests and hobbies were completely assimilated by Thomas.The two hit it off, like glue.Seven days of carefree days passed, and Helen had become Thomas' lover.At this time, he found that the two of them were inseparable in every way.But then, the truth came out that it happened in the early morning of the eighth day... Helene de Courville was lying on the bed with tears streaming down her cheeks, and Thomas sat beside her and stroked her long hair.Both were smoking.Music from nowhere floated into the room, and only a small light was on in the room.Helen sighed, stretched herself, and said, "Oh, Will, I'm so happy..." She called him Will, because she felt that the name Wilfrid reminded her too much of Richard Wagner too. "I feel the same way, dear. Me too." "Really?" And now Thomas caught that inscrutable, strange, troublesome look in her eyes again. "Really, dear." Helen turned over suddenly, exposed her incomparably beautiful brown back in front of Thomas, and threw herself on the pillow and cried loudly: "...I lied to you!...I'm so bad ...Oh, I'm so bad!" Thomas let her cry for a while, and then said politely: "If your fiancé is..." Helen turned around suddenly again, and shouted: "Nonsense, what A fiancé! I don't have a fiancé at all! Oh, Thomas, Thomas!" He felt as if a cold hand was running down his spine, and he asked hastily, "What did you just say?" "I don't have a fiancé at all." "No, that's not what I meant." Thomas' voice was a little choked up, "What were you talking about, Thomas?" "Well," she sobbed, big tears rolling down her cheeks down her neck and onto her chest. "Yes, of course I said Thomas. That's your name, my dear, poor Thomas Levine. . . . Oh, why should I have met you?! I've never been so in love in my life." There was another twitch, another burst of tears, "And it was you I had to frame!" "Framed? What framed?" "I work for the US intelligence agency." Helen lamented in despair.The cigarette was burning to the fingertips, and Thomas hadn't noticed it yet.For a long time he said nothing.Finally he let out a long sigh and said, "God, did it start all over again?" Helen was so sad that she blurted out: "I didn't want to tell you...and I couldn't tell you...they forced me to do this , but from that night on, I have to spit out the truth to be happy... Otherwise, I will suffocate to death..." "Speak slowly, from the beginning." Thomas gradually regained his composure, "So you are an American secret service?" "right." "What about your uncle?" "He's my boss, Colonel Herrick." "What about Mount Montanak?" "For hire, our intelligence agents in Germany reported that you were planning a scam. Then you came to Zurich, and as soon as your ad appeared in the papers, we were given carte blanche to offer you money up to a hundred thousand Swiss francs." invest……" "what about this?" "You must have played a trick on your ad. We don't know what it is, but we'll figure it out. That way we can have you in our hands. The FBI will do whatever it takes to recruit you, for They're crazy to want you!" She cried again.Thomas wiped her tears away. "But you want 750,000. We quickly called Washington. They didn't want to take the risk, so they sent me..." "Send you..." Thomas repeated blankly. "...so I made this trip. It was all a show, including the guy in Grenoble..." "God, he too?! But I'm a fool and I gave him a nice tip!" "...and the fiancé, Tommy, and everything. But now, now I'm in love with you, and I know they won't make it easy for you if you have to work for us!" Thomas stood up . "Don't leave me!" Helen begged. "I'll come, dear," said Thomas absent-mindedly. "I've just got to think about something. To think about it quietly by myself, if you'll agree. You don't know I've been through all of this once... ..." He left the weeping Helen, went back to his bedroom through the living room, sat by the window and stared at the night outside for a long time.After a while, he picked up the phone: "Please answer the director of the restaurant department... I don't care, just wake him up..." Five minutes later, the phone rang.Thomas picked up the receiver: "Gaston? I'm Ott. I had a bad luck just now. I want something light and refreshing. Get me a tomato cocktail and some sardine balls... Thank you .” He put down the phone.It seems doomed!He thought, Today in 1957, they grabbed me again just like in 1939!Through the open door on the balcony, Thomas looked out at the solitary cliff called the Little Golden Horn, then up to the distant, uncontested constellation of stars that shone over the Mediterranean.On the soft night, it seemed that all kinds of men and women he had dealt with in the past appeared again, and they seemed to be walking down, getting closer and closer to him. On the morning of May 24, 1939, a black Bentley convertible slowly stopped in front of the house at No. 122, Lombard Street, central London. A well-dressed man The young man got out of the car.He closed the front door and in his hand was a black top hat with a straight top, an umbrella and two rose-coloured newspapers, The Times and The Times Financial News.Mr. Thomas Levin, who was only thirty years old, was walking towards the entrance of the building at this moment.入口左上方墙上镶着一块黑色大理石制成的招牌，上书“马尔洛克-列文自治代理银行”几个烫金大字。托马斯·列文是伦敦最年轻的经营有方的私人银行家。他能如此飞黄腾达是由于他足智多谋、严守信用和能同时过着两种截然不同生活的本领。在证券交易所列文的言谈举止极为文雅、得体。但是在远离这片富丽堂皇的大厅的地方，他却是一个最漂亮的猎艳行家。谁也不会想到，至少那些当事人不得而知，他甚至能不动声色、轻而易举地同时征服四个女人，因为他既精力充沛又守口如瓶。 罗伯特·马尔洛克是他的合伙人。当列文走进来庄重地将帽子往上掀了一下，罗伯特·马尔洛克正站在银行兑换处。他比列文年长十五岁，身材高而瘦长，眼睛像水一样明亮。“哈啰，”他一面说，一面习惯地朝托马斯身上扫了一眼。“早安，马尔洛克，”托马斯郑重地说道：“早安，先生们！”经理处六位职员端坐在写字台后面，像他一样郑重其事地向托马斯打招呼，马尔洛克站在一根金属圆柱旁。圆柱的顶端平放着一台小型黄铜制造的电报机，滴滴答答地响着，细长的纸带源源不断地标出各交易所行情的动态。托马斯走近他的合伙人，观察着纸带上的记录。马尔洛克忐忑不安地问道：“您何时动身飞往布鲁塞尔？” "tonight." “正是时候。您看，证券正在看跌！这显然是因为法西斯德国与意大利缔结了军事同盟条约所致。您翻过今天的报纸吗？列文！” “的确如此，”列文说道。他喜欢说的确如此。这个词听起来比是的显得庄重些。各种报纸在一九三九年五月二十四日清晨都刊登了德国与意大利结盟的消息。人们称之为“钢铁协定”。穿过陈设古朴、昏暗的营业间，托马斯·列文走入他那间老式的昏暗的私人办公室。瘦长的马尔洛克跟着他走进来，坐在一个皮制带扶手的靠背椅上。 这两位先生开始商量托马斯在欧洲应大量收购何种证券和抛出何种证券。马尔洛克—列文自治代理银行在布鲁塞尔有一个分理处。托马斯·列文在巴黎一家私人银行还有股份。他俩谈妥业务，罗伯特·马尔洛克一反多年来的老习惯，他不加掩饰地盯着这位年轻的合伙人说：“喂，列文，我眼下还有个私人请求。您肯定会记得那个路易丝……”托马斯清楚地回忆起她来。路易丝是一个美丽的金发女郎，原籍科隆。她是马尔洛克的女友，住在伦敦。后来他们之间想必发生了什么棘手的事情——谁也说不清是怎么回事——路易丝·布伦纳后来就回德国去了。“打扰您，我感到很不好意思，列文。”马尔洛克看着这位年轻人的眼睛，诉说道：“我想您到了布鲁塞尔也许可以抽时间到科隆跑一趟，和路易丝谈一谈。” “您是说要我到科隆一趟，是吗？那您自己为什么不去呢？您终究是个德国人嘛！”马尔洛克回答道：“我倒是很想去德国，可是现在的国际局势……况且我曾经伤了路易丝的感情。我是个老实人……”马尔洛克爱说自己是个老实人。“我真是个老实人。那时我和另外一个女人相好，路易丝完全有理由离开我。请您告诉她，我请求她原谅我。我愿意与她重修旧好，希望她能回来……”他讲话的声音显得有点激动。 一九三九年五月二十六日凌晨，托马斯·列文抵达科隆。大教堂旅馆上飘扬着大幅的卍字旗，全城到处都挂着卍字旗，庆祝“钢铁”协定的生效。 室内写字台上竖放着元首的肖像。托马斯把回程机票靠在像架上，洗了一个热水浴，换了一套衣服才给路易丝·布伦纳挂电话。这时电话线的另一端有人拿起听筒，响起一种可疑的喀嚓声，托马斯并未留心，这位一九四零年的超级间谍此时此刻还完全不了解监听器的存在呢。“我是布伦纳！”这就是她。她的声音轻微而略带沙哑。托马斯清楚地想起了她的模样来。“布伦纳小姐，我是列文，托马斯·列文。我刚到科隆……” “啊，上帝。”他听见她说。此刻又响起了喀嚓一声。“布伦纳小姐，马尔洛克拜托我来看望您……” “这个流氓！” “他可不是这样的人……” “这个可怜的恶棍！” “布伦纳小姐，您听我说吧！马尔洛克通过我请您原谅他。我可以去您那里吗？” "no!" “可我答应了他……” “您走吧，列文先生！就赶下一班火车！您一点也不知道这儿发生了什么事！” “不，不，布伦纳小姐。正是您本人才不知道发生了什么事……” “列文先生……” “请您呆在家里别离开，我十分钟后就到您那里！”他放下耳机，系好领带。一种体育比赛时的好胜心攫住了他。一辆出租汽车把列文送到了椴树湾。路易丝·布伦纳就住在贝多芬公园旁边一座别墅的三楼上。 他按了门铃，门内响起一阵低沉的耳语声。男男女女的声音交织在一起。托马斯一怔觉得有点蹊跷。因为在他开朗的性格中是容不得一丝猜疑的。The door opened.路易丝走了出来。她身着一件晨衣，看样子里面没穿什么衣服。她显得非常激动：“您疯了吗？”不一会儿路易丝身后出现了两个男子。他们身穿皮大衣，活像个屠夫。一个家伙粗暴地把路易丝推开，另一个一把抓住托马斯上装的翻领。刹那间托马斯把自我控制、镇静统统忘了个一干二净。他用双手抓住对方的拳头，以一种优美的舞蹈动作来一个急转身。那家伙忽地一下目瞪口呆地把脸贴在托马斯·列文的右臀部位上。说时迟那时快，托马斯猛地一弯腰，只听这位尖叫一声，嗖地飞了出去，跌落在过道的地板上。肘关节喀嚓折断了。他痛得卷作一团，躺在地上再也爬不起来了。托马斯心想我的柔道课可不是白上的。 “现在轮到您了。”托马斯一边吼道，一边朝第二个家伙走过去。金发的路易丝小姐开始发出尖锐刺耳的叫喊声。剩下的那个家伙步步后退，结结巴巴地说道：“别，别这样。先生，您别动武……”他从肩袋上拔出一把左轮手枪。 “我警告您，放明白点。”托马斯·列文收住脚步，只有傻瓜才会手无寸铁地去对付一个带左轮枪的壮汉。 “我以法律的名义宣布您被捕了！”这个心有余悸的家伙说。 “谁逮捕我？” “国家秘密警察。” “哼！”托马斯自言自语道：“我要把这件事当成俱乐部里闲谈的话题那才妙呢。” 托马斯热爱他的伦敦俱乐部，伦敦俱乐部也很欢迎他。每星期四晚上俱乐部的会员们端着威士忌叼着烟斗，坐在劈啪作响的壁炉前听着各种各样美妙动人的故事。在座的会员依次各讲一个。后来他坐在科隆盖世太保总部特别科里，心情一如既往感到轻松愉快。整个事件只不过是个误会，他思忖道半个小时后，他准会离开此地…… 接待托马斯的刑警队长叫哈佛纳，他是个胖乎乎的人，有一双狡黠的猪眼，他不断地用牙签把指甲的污物剔除干净。“我听说您把一个同志打了一顿。”哈佛纳气愤地说：“您会为此感到后悔的，列文。” “您应该一直称呼我为列文先生！您有什么有求于我？您为什么要逮捕我？” “倒卖外汇罪。”哈佛纳口气严厉地说：“我等您等了够久了。” “您等候我？” “或者说，是等候您的合伙人马尔洛克。打从路易丝·布伦纳从伦敦回国，我就派人监视她。我寻思你们这些狗东西终将有一个家伙会抛头露面。”哈佛纳把文件包放到写字台上。“最好的办法是我把有关指控材料拿给您看一下，您就会闭住嘴不吭声了。”眼下我真的感到好奇起来。托马斯暗思着。于是他开始翻阅这个内容丰富的文件包。过了一会儿，他不由得笑起来。“您认为哪些文件可笑？”哈佛纳不以为然地问道。“您听着，这可是一件了不起的杰作！” 文件上说，伦敦马尔洛克—列文私人银行几年前设下了一个恶毒的圈套坑害第三帝国，该银行根据政治局势长期以来在苏黎世证券交易所以五分之一的票面价值大做特做德国抵押契据的生意。该合资银行于一九三六年一月、二月、三月，在苏黎世用非法汇往国外的帝国马克购进这批德国抵押契据。接着又委托一个瑞士公民为代理人，购买了几幅伤风败俗的油画。这些油画在德国不值钱，但在德国以外却价值连城。纳粹当局乐意为油画的出口大开绿灯。原因之一他们排斥这些不受欢迎的艺术品；原因之二他们为重整军备可借此获得必需的外汇储备。瑞士代理人必须以瑞士法郎支付售价百分之三十的回扣。余下的百分之七十纳粹当局很晚才察觉到由代理人用德国抵押契据偿还。用这种方法可以使这些德国抵押契据倒流回国并使其具有它们原来的价值。即为马尔洛克—列文合资银行在苏黎世购进价格的五倍。 托马斯·列文一面研究上述文件，一面想道这件事我理不清，只有马尔洛克有办法，他想必知道德国人正在找他算账。路易丝·布伦纳被监视，他们逮捕了我，连一句话都不相信我。马尔洛克要甩掉我，他可以独霸这家银行。啊，上帝……“事情就是这样，”哈佛纳刑警队长洋洋得意地说：“您还有什么要说的？”他拿起一根新的牙签，轻轻地剔他的牙齿。真糟糕，我该怎么办呢？托马斯在寻思。蓦地他脑中闪过一个念头。这个念头虽不算很好，但没有比它更好的了。“我可以打个电话吗？”哈佛纳问：“给谁打电话？”现在什么也不能告诉他。托马斯心里想，总得给自己留下一条后路嘛。“封·魏德尔男爵。” “从未听说过有此人。”托马斯气得大声吼道：“封·魏德尔·玻多男爵是外交部特别大使。难道您从未听说过有此人吗？” “我是……我是说……” “如果您要同我讲话，请您把牙签从嘴里取出来！” “那您向男爵先生提什么请求呢？”哈佛纳口吃地问道。“这位男爵是我的刎颈之交！” 一九二九年，托马斯在一个击剑团体里结识了魏德尔，他看来年龄比托马斯大得多。魏德尔把托马斯引进贵族青年小圈子。托马斯手头宽裕，男爵的汇款有时不能兑现，全由托马斯支付。因此他俩开始亲近起来，直到魏德尔加入纳粹党为止。后来俩人之间发生了一场大争吵，托马斯才和魏德尔不欢而散。 电话接线小姐紧张地工作着。哈佛纳刑警队长夺过话筒，吼道：“接柏林外交部！快点！你这个笨手笨脚的娘们！”托马斯听到那位老朋友的声音：“我是封·魏德尔……”他想这件事妙极了，简直是妙极了。“玻多，我是列文！托马斯·列文。你还记得我吗？”他耳边响起一阵震耳欲聋的笑声：“托马斯，老兄！你真叫人感到意外。过去你劝我站稳立场，可你自己今天却加入了盖世太保组织！”托马斯面对这种天大的误会只好闭上眼睛。男爵继续快活地大声说道：“里本特洛甫或沙赫特不久前告诉我，说你在英国有一家银行。这不是很滑稽吗？” “我在英国确实有一家银行。玻多，你听我说……” “哦，这是工作需要。我懂！以开银行为掩护，是吗？我真的笑得直不起腰来了，你大概已经意识到我过去就是正确的。” “玻多！” “你现在担任什么职务？需要我给刑警队长打个招呼吗？” “我的天啊，你听我说一说！我不在盖世太保工作！我是被你们抓起来了！”柏林方面有一会儿没有什么动静。“玻多！你没有听懂我的话是吗？” “不，我懂。太令人遗憾。那么你有什么过失呢？”托马斯把别人的指控告诉他。“唉，我的老弟。这可难办了，我不能插手。我们生活在法制的国家。你确凿无罪，迟早会被证实的。祝你一切顺利。希特勒万岁！”他们拿走了托马斯的裤背带、领带、鞋带、皮夹子和他心爱的报时怀表，把他关进一个单人牢房。 五月二十七日早晨，托马斯·列文再一次被提审。走进哈佛纳的办公室，他看见一位脸色苍白、忧心忡忡的国防军少校站在刑警队长的身旁。哈佛纳看样子气呼呼的，好象他刚才和谁吵过架似的。“这就是那个犯人，少校先生，遵照上司命令我让您和他单独交谈。”他说完便退了出去。军官握着托马斯的手说：“我是科隆防区指挥部罗斯少校。封·魏德尔男爵对电话给我叫我关心关心您。” “关心我？” “是的，您是完全无罪的。您的合伙人把您骗了。这一点我明白。”托马斯如释重负地说道：“我很高兴您持这种看法，少校先生。那我可以走啦？” “怎么可以走呢？您是要被关进牢房的！”托马斯坐了下来：“我确实是无罪的！” “您要把这件事情向盖世太保交待清楚，列文先生。不，不，您的合伙人早就把一切事情都考虑好了。” “嗯。”托马斯朝少校看了一眼，暗想一定还会有什么事等着他……果不其然少校开了腔：“列文先生，您自然还有一条出路。您是德国公民，您了解世界。您是个有文化修养的人，会说一口流利的英语和法语。像您这样的人材正是眼下急需的。” “谁需要我？” “我们。我是反间谍部门的军官。列文先生，如果您愿意为反间谍部门工作，我就能够设法把您救出来。此外，我们给您的报酬是不会低的……” 弗里茨·罗斯少校是托马斯遇见的秘密情报部门第一个成员。在这之后，他接触了一连串的——他们当中有英国人、法国人、波兰人、西班牙人、美国人和俄国人。 在第一次与情报部门打交道的十八年之后，即一九五七年五月十八日，托马斯在法国戛纳一家豪华的旅馆下榻。夜深人静他辗转反侧想起往事觉得所有这些人实际上都似曾相识。他们令人悲伤、痛苦和失望。他们都可能脱离常轨生活，现出一副病态。他们都相当胆怯，因此他们要不断地用一些令人可笑的形容词去修饰和限定自己的权力、秘密以及恐怖，借以把自己与世隔离起来。他们一刻不停地在演戏，普遍患着一种自卑情结症……一九五七年这个令人可爱的五月之夜，托马斯·列文一下子明白了这一切。而一九三七年五月二十七日这一天，他还懵懵懂懂。当罗斯少校建议他为反间谍机构工作时，他简直是欣喜若狂，满口应承。他满以为用这种方式就能一下子跳出泥沼，殊不知反而深深地陷了进去…… 一架汉莎航空公司的客机冲破滞留在伦敦上空低低地云层，这时坐在十七号座位上的乘客发出了一种怪里怪气的声音，空中小姐急急忙忙向他走来。“您身体不舒服吗，先生？”她满怀同情地问。“我身体好极了。”托马斯·列文答道：“请原谅，想必是我刚才想起了一些可笑的事情。”这时飞机开始下降。飞机沿着西南航向越过泰晤士河向克罗伊登机场飞去。托马斯搓搓手，快意地伸了伸四肢。啊，我又回到了英国！自由自在！安安全全！现在我真想一步跳进本特利俱乐部，洗一个热水澡，来一杯威士忌，点上烟斗深深地吸一口。跟俱乐部的朋友们大讲特讲故事。当然啰，休息之后得去找马尔洛克。托马斯·列文沉浸在重返家园的幸福之中。他的满腔愤懑早就消散了一半。眼下连剩下的一半也烟消云散了。难道他非得和马尔洛克一刀两断，分道扬镳吗？也许有一个能为人接受的解释。马尔洛克说不定有他的难处，无论如何还得听听他本人的意思。托马斯足足思索了七分多钟。这时他才兴奋地走下舷梯，双脚踏上湿漉漉的地面。他打开雨伞，吹着口哨大步流星地向入境大厅走去。这儿有两条通道，中间用绳索隔开。右上方写的是英国国民入口，左上方写的是外国公民入口。 托马斯继续吹着口哨向左转，走近侨民办事处的服务台，托马斯微笑着把旅行护照递过去。一位年纪稍大，生着一副海象式胡子的官员接过护照，翻了翻，抬眼看着托马斯。“很遗憾，当局不再允许您在英国居留。” "What do you mean by that?" “今天已宣布将您驱逐出境，列文先生。请跟我来，有两位先生在等您。”说完，他先走了过去。托马斯走进一间小办公室，那两位先生站了起来。他俩给人的印象是操劳过度，肠胃有病，睡眠不足。“我叫莫里斯。” “我叫洛夫乔伊。”这两位官员做了自我介绍。Who are they?托马斯思索了一会儿，始终未想起来。他竭力控制自己不失礼貌地发问：“先生们，这是怎么回事？我在英国已经生活了七年，我没有什么过错，一向奉公守法，老老实实。为什么不让我入境？”那个名叫洛夫乔伊的官员举起一份报纸，指着上面一则新闻报导，标题是《伦敦银行家在科隆被捕》。 “那有什么要紧？事情发生在前天嘛！今天我不就到了英国！德国人把我放了！” “为什么呢？”莫里斯问道：“为什么盖世太保把一个刚刚被捕的人又释放呢？” “他们证实了我是无辜的。”两位英国官员意味深长地相互看了一眼。接着莫里斯以一种咄咄逼人的语调说：“我们是军事情报处派来的，列文先生。我们从科隆获得了情报，要想骗我们是徒劳的。”托马斯而今才恍然大悟这两位官员让他想起一个人，他就是脸色苍白的罗斯少校！他们演的是同一出戏，采取的是同一种方式。他气愤地说：“你们是英国军事情报处的，这更好。先生们，有件事很自然会使你们感兴趣，盖世太保之所以释放我，是因为我已正式声明为德国反间谍部门工作。” “列文先生，难道您以为我们是那么幼稚吗？”托马斯不耐烦地答道：“我说的是实话。德国反间谍处对我进行讹诈。我是不受我的承诺的约束。我要在伦敦安安稳稳地生活！” “您自己大概也不会相信，我们根据您的交待还会允许您进入英国的！您是正式被驱逐出境的，因为每个外国人只要他触犯了英帝国的法律就要被我们国家赶出去。” “但是我是无罪的呀！我的合伙人把我骗了！你们至少让我去找他算账！然后你们就会明白，我说的是真话！”莫里斯和洛夫乔伊俩人又意味深长地相互看了一眼。“您俩使什么眼色，先生们？”洛夫乔伊解释道：“您不能同您的合伙人说话，列文先生。” "Then why?" “因为您的合伙人离开伦敦已经有六个星期了。”莫里斯回答道。“他离开伦敦了？”霎时托马斯脸色灰白。“是的，听说他到苏格兰旅行去了。究竟去什么地方谁也不清楚。” “真倒霉！我该怎么办呢？” “返回您的祖国去吧。” “回去好让人把我监禁起来吗？他们只是为了派我到英国搞间谍活动才把我放了的呀。”这两位官员又一次心照不宣地看了一眼。托马斯心里明白还有明堂在后头呢。果然事情接着就发生了。莫里斯一点不动感情地说道：“依我看您只有一条出路，列文先生。您为我们办事吧！”我的天啊，托马斯想。如果我在俱乐部里讲这件事准没人信我的话。“您和我们一道对付德国人。我们同意您入境并且帮助您对付马尔洛克。我们保护您。” “谁保护我？” “军事情报处。”托马斯无可奈何地狂笑一阵。而后他变得严肃起来，拉了拉背心和领带站直了身子。 他感到迷惘和垂头丧气的那一刻很快就过去了，现在他意识到他把一件不是闹着玩的事情当作玩笑了。如今他得进行奋斗才行。他喜欢奋斗，一个人总不能随随便便地就把自己的一生毁了。托马斯斩钉截铁地说：“我拒绝你们的建议，先生们。我要到巴黎去。我要请法国最出色的律师同我的合伙人打一场官司，同你们英国政府打一场官司。” “我劝您别这么干，列文先生。” “这场官司我非打不可。” “可它对您并没什么好处。” “那我们就走着瞧吧。我就不相信整个世界真是一所疯人院！”托马斯·列文说道。 一年以后，他不再拒绝接受别人的建议了。十八年之后，当他在戛纳一家豪华旅馆过夜时，回顾自己一生的经历，对自己过去决不相信的事情已经确信无疑了，整个世界就是一所疯人院。列文觉得只有这才是这个疯狂的世界唯一能够而且是唯一能该信守的真理！