tc.patriotgames-第42节

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his。　An　island　by　definition　was　easier　to　secure；　and　this　one　had　only　four　regular　entry　points。　More　importantly；　this　island　was　a　clannish　place　even　by　English　standards；　and　any　stranger　on　the　loose　would　at　least　be　noticed；　and　might　even　be　mented　upon。　The　new　prisons　were　somewhat　more　fortable　than　those　constructed　in　the　previous　century。　It　was　an　accident；　but　one　to　which　Highland　did　not　object。　Along　with　the　better　living　conditions　for　the　prisoners　came　facilities　designed　to　make　escape　very　difficult　　nothing　made　them　impossible；　but　these　new　prisons　had　television　cameras　to　cover　every　inch　of　wall；　electronic　alarms　in　the　most　unlikely　of　places；　and　guards　armed　with　automatic　weapons。
　　　　Highland　stretched　and　yawned。　With　luck　he'd　get　home　by　early　afternoon　and　still　salvage　something　of　Christmas　Day　with　his　family。
　　　　〃I　don't　see　anything　at　all　to　concern　us；〃　the　other　constable　said；　his　nose　against　the　small　glass　rectangle　in　the　door。　〃Only　a　handful　of　vehicles　on　the　street；　and　none　are　following　us。〃　
　　　　〃I　shouldn't　plain；〃　Highland　observed。　He　turned　around　to　look　at　Miller。
　　　　The　prisoner　sat　all　the　way　forward　on　the　left…hand　bench。　His　hands　were　manacled；　a　chain　running　from　the　cuffs　to　a　similar　pair　on　his　ankles。　With　luck　and　a　little　assistance；　a　man　so　restrained　might　be　able　to　keep　pace　with　a　crawling　infant；　but　he'd　have　little　chance　of　outracing　a　two…year…old。　Miller　just　sat　there；　his　head　back　against　the　wall　of　the　van；　his　eyes　closed　as　the　vehicle　bounced　and　jolted　over　the　road。　He　looked　to　be　asleep；　but　Highland　knew　better。　Miller　had　withdrawn　into　himself　again；　lost　in　some　kind　of　contemplation。
　　　　What　are　you　thinking　about；　Mr。　Miller？　the　policeman　wanted　to　ask。　It　wasn't　that　he'd　failed　to　ask　questions。　Almost　every　day　since　the　incident　on　The　Mall；　Highland　and　several　other　detectives　had　sat　across　a　rugged　wood　table　from　this　young　man　and　tried　to　start　some　kind　of　conversation。　He　was　a　strong　one。　Highland　admitted　to　himself。　He　had　spoken　but　one　unnecessary　word；　and　that　only　nine　days　before。　A　jailer　with　more　indignation　than　professionalism　had　used　the　excuse　of　a　plumbing　problem　in　Miller's　cell　to　move　him　temporarily　to　another。　In　the　other　were　two　ODCs；　as　they　were　called：　Ordinary　Decent　Criminals；　as　opposed　to　the　political　kind　that　C…13　dealt　with。　One　was　awaiting　sentencing　for　a　series　of　vicious　street　robberies；　the　other　for　the　gun…murder　of　a　shop　owner　in　Kensington。　Both　knew　who　Miller　was；　and　hated　him　enough　to　look　at　the　small　young　man　as　a　way　to　atone　for　the　crimes　which　they　little　regretted　in　any　case。　When　Highland　had　shown　up　for　yet　another　fruitless　interrogation　session；　he'd　found　Miller　facedown　on　the　floor　of　the　cell；　his　pants　gone；　and　the　robber　sodomizing　him　so　brutally　that　the　policeman　had　actually　felt　sympathy　for　the　terrorist。
　　　　The　Ordinary　Decent　Criminals　had　withdrawn　at　Highland's　mand；　and　when　the　cell　door　was　opened；　Highland　had　himself　picked　Miller　up　and　helped　him　to　the　dispensary。　And　there　Miller　had　actually　spoken　to　him　as　though　to　another　human　being。　A　single　word　from　the　puffy；　split　lips；　〃Thanks。〃　
　　　　Cop　rescues　terrorist。　Highland　thought　to　himself；　some　headline　that　would　be。　The　jailer　had　pleaded　innocence；　of　course。　There　was　a　problem　with　the　plumbing　in　Miller's　cell　　somehow　the　work　order　had　got　mislaid；　you　see　　and　the　jailer　had　been　called　to　quell　a　disturbance　elsewhere。　Hadn't　heard　a　sound　from　that　end　of　the　cell　block。　Not　a　sound。　Miller's　face　had　been　beaten　to　a　bloody　pulp；　and　certainly　he'd　have　no　toilet　problems　for　a　few　more　days。　His　sympathy　for　Miller　had　been　short…lived。　Highland　was　still　angry　with　the　jailer。　It　was　his　professionalism　that　was　offended。　What　the　jailer　had　done　was；　quite　simply；　wrong；　and　potentially　the　first　step　on　a　path　that　could　lead　back　to　the　rack　and　hot　pincers。　The　law　was　not　so　much　designed　to　protect　society　from　the　criminals；　but　more　profoundly　to　protect　society　from　itself。　This　was　a　truth　that　not　even　all　policemen　understood　fully；　but　it　was　the　single　lesson　that　Highland　had　learned　from　five　years　in　the　Anti…Terrorist　Branch。　It　was　a　hard　lesson　to　believe　when　you'd　seen　the　work　of　the　terrorists。
　　　　Miller's　face　still　bore　some　of　the　marks；　but　he　was　a　young　man　and　he　was　healing　quickly。　Only　for　a　brief　few　minutes　had　he　been　a　victim；　a　human　victim。　Now　he　was　an　animal　again。　Highland　was　hard…pressed　to　think　of　him　as　a　fellow　man　　but　that　was　what　his　professionalism　was　for。　Even　for　the　likes　of　you。　The　policeman　looked　back　out　the　rear　window。
　　　　It　was　a　boring　drive；　as　it　had　to　be　with　no　radio；　no　conversation；　only　vigilance　for　something　that　almost　certainly　wasn't　out　there。　Highland　wished　that　he'd　put　coffee　in　his　thermos　instead　of　tea。　They　watched　the　truck　pass　out　of　Woking；　then　Aldershot　and　Farnham。　They　were　in　the　estate　country　of　Southern　England　now。　All　around　them　were　stately　homes　belonging　to　the　horse　crowd；　and　the　less　stately　homes　of　those　whom　they　employed。　It　was　a　pity　it　was　dark。　Highland　thought；　this　could　be　a　very　pleasant　drive。　As　it　was；　the　fog　hung　in　the　numerous　valleys；　and　rain　pelted　the　flat　metal　top　of　the　van；　and　the　van's　driver　had　to　be　especially　careful　as　he　negotiated　the　narrow；　twisting　roads　that　characterize　the　English　countryside。　The　only　good　news　was　the　near…total　absence　of　traffic。　Here　and　there　Highland　saw　a　solitary　light　over　some　distant　door；　but　there　was　little　more　than　that。
　　　　An　hour　later；　the　van　used　the　M…27　motorway　to　bypass　Southampton；　then　turned　south　on　a　secondary　　〃Class　A〃　　road　for　Lymington。　Every　few　miles　they　passed　through　a　small　village。　There　were　the　beginnings　of　life　here　and　there。　A　few　bakeries　had　cars　parked　outside　while　their　owners　got　fresh；　hot　bread　for　the　day's　dinner。　Early　church　services　were　under　way　already；　but　the　real　traveling　wouldn't　start　until　the　sun　was　up；　and　that　was　still　over　two　hours　off。　The　weather　was　worsening。　They　were　only　a　few　miles　from　the　coast　now；　and　the　wind　was　gusting　at　thirty　miles　per　hour。　It　blew　away　the　fog；　but　also　drove　sheets　of　cold　rain　and　rocked　the　van　on　its　wheels。
　　　　〃Miserable　bloody　day　to　take　a　boat　ride；〃　the　other　cop　in　the　back　mented。
　　　　〃Only　supposed　to　be　thirty　minutes；〃　Highland　said；　his　own　stomach　already　queasy　at　the　thought。　Born　in　a　nation　of　seamen；　Bob　Highland　detested　traveling　on　the　water。
　　　　〃On　a　day　like　this？　An　hour；　more　like。〃　The　man　started　humming　〃A　Life　on　the　Rolling　Wave〃　while　Highland　started　regretting　the　large　breakfast　he'd　fixed　before　leaving　home。
　　　　Nothing　for　it；　he　told　himself。　After　we　deliver　young　Mr。　Miller；　it's　home　for　Christmas　and　two　days　off。　I've　bloody　earned　it。　Thirty　minutes　later　they　arrived　in　Lymington。
　　　　Highland　had　been　there　once　before；　but　he　remembered　more　than　he　could　see。　The　wind　off　the　water　was　now　a　good　forty　miles　per　hour；　a　full　gale　out　of　the　southwest。　He　remembered　from　the　map　that　most　of　the　boat　ride　to　the　Isle　of　Wight　was　in　sheltered　waters　　a　relative　term；　but　something　to　depend　on　nonetheless。　The　ferry　Cenlac　waited　at　the　dock　for　them。　Only　half　an　hour　before；　the　boat's　captain　had　been　told　that　a　special　passenger　was　en　route。　That　explained　the　four　armed　officers　who　stood　or　sat　in　various　places　around　the　ferry。　A　low…profile　operation；　to　be　sure；　and　it　didn't　interfere　with　the　ferry's　other　passengers；　many　of　them　carrying　bundles　whose　identity　didn't　need　to　be　guessed　at。
　　　　The　Lymington　to　Yarmouth　ferry　cast　off　her　lines　at　8：30　exactly。　Highland　and　the　other　officer　remained　in　the　van　while　the　driver　and　another　armed　constable　who'd　ridden　in　front　stood　outside。　Another　hour；　he　told　himself；　then　a　few　more　minutes　to　deliver　Miller　to　the　prison；　and　then　a　leisurely　drive　back　to　London。　I　might　even　stretch　out　and　get　a　few　winks。　Christmas　Dinner　was　scheduled　for　four　in　the　afternoon　　his　contemplation　of　that　event　stopped　abruptly。
　　　　The　Cenlac　entered　the　Solent；　the　channel　between　the　English　mainland　and　the　Isle　of　Wight。　If　these　waters　were　sheltered；　Highland　didn't　want　to　think　what　the　open　ocean　was　like。　The　Cenlac　wasn't　all　that　large；　and　the　ferry　lacked　the　weatherly　lines　of　a　blue…water　craft。　The　channel　gale　was　broad　on　her　starboard　beam；　as　were　the　seas；　and　the　boat　was　already　taking　fifteen…degree　rolls。
　　　　〃Bloody　hell；〃　the　Sergeant　observed　to　himself。　He　looked　at　Miller。　The　terrorist's　demeanor　hadn't　changed　a　whit。　He　sat　there　like　a　statue；　head　still　against　the　van's　wall；　eyes　still　closed；　hands　in　his　lap。　Highland　decided　to　try　the　same　thing。　There　was　nothing　to　be　gained　by　staring　out　the　back　window。　There　wasn't　any　traffic　to　worry　about　now。　He　sat　back　and　propped　his　feet　on　the　left…side　bench。　Somewhere　he'd　once　read　that　closing　one's　eyes　was　an　effective　defense　against　motion　sickness。　He　had　nothing　to　fear　from　Miller。　Highland　was　not　carrying　a　gun；　of　course；　and　the　k