gns.theplutopact-第35节

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ary　forces。　However；　in　the　city　centre　itself；　today　life　has　continued　fairly　normally；　given　the　conditions。　Most　office…workers　have　reported　for　work　as　usual；　and　public　transport　has　been　operating　satisfactorily。　But；　after　another　night　of　terror；　it　is　doubtful　whether　many　muters　will　venture　into　the　city　tomorrow。　Gerald　Watson；　News　at　Ten；　Birmingham。'
　　
　　Monday；　11。30　p。m。　Canverdale　made　another　broadcast。　In　the　calmest　voice　he　could　muster；　he　advised　muters　to　stay　out　of　the　cities　on　the　following　day。　He　added；　hopefully；　that　soon　the　army　and　police　would　have　everything　under　control。
　　
　　The　moment　he　was　off　the　air　he　fitted　a　cigarette　into　the　long　holder；　applied　the　flame　with　a　shaking　hand；　and　drew　the　smoke　deep　into　his　lungs。　If　there　was　one　thing　he　detested　it　was　having　to　lie　deliberately。　The　truth　was　that　in　many　areas　the　troops　and　police　were　being　forced　back。　The　tide　had　turned；　and　a　backwash　of　bloody　terror　was　swamping　Britain。
　　
　　Already　a　military　escort　waited　outside　for　the　evacuation　of　Downing　Street。　Canverdale　was　well　aware　that　his　next　broadcast　would　be　made　from　a　secret　underground　headquarters　in　Hertfordshire。
　　
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　14
　　
　　On　Monday　night　Coyle　returned　home；　and　Anne　reluctantly　went　back　to　her　parents。　Just　for　a　few　hours　out　of　the　precious　few　left。
　　
　　Jane　and　Sarah　were　seated　before　the　small　electric　fire　in　the　living…room；　and　both　looked　up　as　he　entered。　Their　forced　smiles　meant　nothing　more　than　an　acknowledgement。　They　had　guessed　he　would　e。
　　
　　Sarah　prepared　a　snack　which　none　of　them　really　wanted；　but　they　must　pretend　to　eat　something　in　the　midst　of　this　forced　family　reunion。　Nobody　spoke；　but　the　silence　was　worse　than　any　backlash　of　words；　and　Coyle　wondered　how　they　would　get　through　the　long　evening　ahead。　The　television　was　out　of　action；　of　course；　and　his　transistor　radio　was　still　at　the　office。　He　knew　Sarah　had　one　in　her　room；　but　that　was　not　really　a　solution　to　their　problem。
　　
　　He　took　upon　himself　the　chore　of　washing　the　dishes；　simply　as　something　to　do。　The　thought　of　the　long　night　frightened　him。
　　
　　At　half…past　eight　the　front…door　bell　rang；　and　Sarah　went　to　answer　it。　From　the　kitchen　he　recognised　the　voice　of　the　caller…the　Reverend　James　Mortimer。
　　
　　The　vicar　had　e　on　a　mission　of　solace。　It　was　a　valuable　diversion；　Coyle　decided；　as　he　made　some　coffee。　He　hoped　that　Mortimer　would　not　refer　to　his　presence　at　the　munion　service。　The　memory　was　distasteful　to　Coyle；　because　in　his　own　mind　he　felt　he　had　capitulated　to　everything　he　had　opposed　in　the　past。　No　longer　could　he　claim　openly　to　be　an　atheist。　He　had　knelt　and　asked　God　for　deliverance　along　with　everybody　else。　Jane　and　Sarah　probably　despised　him　for　it；　and　perhaps　Mortimer　thought　he　had　won　a　long　battle；　and　converted　yet　another　to　his　fold。　Coyle　winced　at　the　thought。
　　
　　'Superintendent　Rollason　telephoned　me。'　Mortimer　drank　coffee　even　slower　than　he　consumed　tea；　with　constant　stirrings；　purely　a　habit　because　he　did　not　take　sugar。　'The　authorities　will　keep　the　crowds　out　of　the　church　tomorrow。　Just　for　the　service；　of　course。　I　want　to　leave　it　a　family　affair　just　for　you。　The　population　of　this　town　are　not　interested　in　your　grief。'
　　
　　Jane　and　Sarah　looked　at　Coyle。　He　dropped　his　gaze。　There　would　be　no　reconciliation…that　was　obvious。　Their　last　outward　show　of　unity　would　be　a　bereavement。　After　that　it　was　all　over。
　　
　　The　vicar　left　an　hour　later。　Sarah　came　back　from　seeing　him　out；　kissed　her　mother　briefly；　ignored　her　father；　and　went　upstairs　to　her　room。
　　
　　At　ten　o'clock　Coyle　suggested　that　they　too　go　to　bed。　They　would　need　every　bit　of　rest　they　could　get　to　prepare　for　the　morrow。　He　was　somewhat　surprised　when　Jane　followed　him　upstairs。　They　undressed。　It　was　a　sort　of　brother　and　sister　affair　as　though　both　were　being　forced　to　use　the　same　room。　She　turned　away　from　him　as　she　took　her　clothes　off…unwilling　even　to　allow　him　a　brief　glimpse　of　her　naked　breasts。
　　
　　She　was　in　bed　before　him；　on　the　far　side；　facing　the　wall；　her　back　towards　him。　He　switched　off　the　bedside　light；　and　climbed　in　beside　her。　He　could　tell　by　her　breathing　that　she　was　still　awake；　and　he　contemplated　slipping　an　arm　around　her；　one　small　gesture　of　fort；　perhaps　understanding。　He　thought　about　it　for　a　minute；　decided　against　it；　and　turned　over。　Back　to　back。　Their　marriage　was　finished；　all　right；　and　he　realised　there　was　nothing　he　could　do　to　save　it。　He　told　himself　that　he　had　no　regrets。
　　
　　Margaret　Houston　was　surprised　when；　for　the　second　evening　in　succession；　her　husband　did　not　go　out。　A　small　flame　of　hope　kindled　inside　her　and　she　made　a　half…promise　to　herself　to　visit　the　hair…dressers's　the　following　day。　Perhaps　she　could　start　a　diet；　too。　Since　her　husband's　affair　began；　she　had　let　herself　go；　seeking　solace　in　the　pany　of　the　children；　eating　the　foods　she　enjoyed　most；　heedless　of　calories。　She　had　no　intention　of　finding　another　man；　even　if　David　left　her　for　good。　Nobody　could　replace　him。
　　
　　She　had　seen　Sarah　Coyle　about　town。　Attractive；　a　young　body；　but　it　could　not　be　any　more　willing　than　her　own。　But　now　David　had　stayed　at　home　for　two　evenings。　Sullen；　certainly；　but　that　gave　Margaret　encouragement。　The　affair　bore　all　the　signs　of　having　e　to　an　end。　Perhaps　Sarah　had　found　a　younger　lover…a　real　boyfriend。　Margaret　was　determined　to　seize　the　opportunity。　She　would　win　David　back　again。
　　
　　At　least　it　was　nice　to　go　upstairs　to　bed　together。　He　did　not　make　love　to　her　on　the　Sunday　night；　but　she　did　not　expect　it。　It　would　take　time　to　get　back　together　again。
　　
　　Deep　within　him；　David　Houston　smouldered　with　hatred。　That　stupid　little　bitch…all　he　had　given　her；　too。　That　was　all　she　had　wanted　from　him。　Her　wardrobe　was　full；　so　was　her　jewellery　box。　That　made　her　no　better　than　a　prostitute；　as　surely　as　if　she　solicited　on　the　streets。　Damn　her；　he　was　well　rid　of　her；　but　his　eager　sexual　appetite　was　already　crying　out　for　another　woman。　He　could　have　taken　Margaret；　of　course；　but　he　dismissed　the　thought。　Too　easy。　Too　familiar。　He　craved　for　a　woman　who　would　excite　him　with　unexpected　techniques；　one　who　would　take　the　initiative。　He　knew　a　woman　who　would　fill　his　purpose；　though　he　had　not　visited　her　for　six　months。　He　had　no　doubts　he　would　be　wele；　but　there　was　one　serious　snag：　the　military！　The　girl　in　question　lived　in　Dumfries。　And　the　fucking　army　was　trapping　him　and　his　incessant　lust　in　this　bloody　valley！
　　
　　He　thought　a　lot　about　it　in　bed　on　that　Sunday　night。　At　one　stage　he　was　almost　tempted　to　pull　his　wife　towards　him　and　take　her。　On　Monday　his　mind　was　made　up。　He　formulated　his　plans　carefully　throughout　the　day。　The　pass　was　blocked；　there　was　no　chance　there。　There　was　a　cordon　around　the　moors　beyond　the　surrounding　mountains；　but　how　effective　was　it？　Probably　soldiers　stationed　at　intervals；　crouched　down　in　the　springy　heather　for　warmth　during　the　cold　nocturnal　hours。　They　did　not　know　the　moors　like　David　Houston　did。　The　old　sheep…track　up　to　harrow　Peak；　treacherous　if　one　was　not　familiar　with　the　climb；　a　long　crawl　across　the　Manquhill　Moor。　Past　the　sentries；　then　less　than　half　a　mile　to　the　road　down　to　Moniaive。　He　would　follow　it；　keeping　to　the　edges；　diving　into　the　undergrowth　at　the　approach　of　every　vehicle。　Three　miles　to　Moniaive。　He　knew　he　could　pick　up　a　car　there。　Donald　would　lend　him　his；　he　would　understand。　The　army　wouldn't　bother　barricading　the　roads　into　Dumfries。　They　would　be　too　concerned　with　patrolling　the　Solway　shores；　to　prevent　people　leaving　the　country　in　small　boats。
　　
　　With　luck　he　could　be　in　Dumfries　by　eleven　o'clock。　In　bed　with　this　free…and…easy　wench　by　midnight。　And；　of　course；　he　would　not　be　ing　back。　Nobody　in　their　right　mind　would　return　to　this　valley　of　death；　once　they　had　escaped　from　it。
　　
　　He　left　the　house　at　nine　o'clock　on　the　Monday　night。　Margaret's　hopes　fell；　but　rose　again　when　she　realised　he　had　not　taken　the　car。
　　
　　Once　clear　of　the　sprawling　suburbs；　David　Houston　moved　stealthily。　The　moon　would　not　be　up　for　another　couple　of　hours　and　by　then　it　would　not　matter。　His　keen　eyes　quickly　grew　accustomed　to　the　darkness；　picking　out　any　obstacles　in　his　path。　Several　times　he　stumbled；　catching　his　foot　in　an　unseen　rabbit　hole。　Then　the　ground　began　to　rise；　being　steeper　with　every　step。　He　was　now　on　the　narrow　sheep…track　leading　up　to　Cornharrow　Peak。
　　
　　The　most　difficult　part。　Twenty　yards　or　so；　one　slip　。　。　。　He　tried　to　push　from　his　mind　that　accident　two　or　three　years　ago。　A　couple　of　hikers…both　had　gone　over；　the　one　who　slipped　grabbing　at　the　other　and　taking　him　too。　Houston　held　his　breath。　He　felt　the　pounding　of　his　heart；　a　brief　spell　of　vertigo。　Then　the　path　widened；　levelled　out；　and　the　springy　heather　of　Manquhill　Moor　was　beneath　his　feet。
　　
　　He　breathed　a　long　sigh　of　relief。　He　needed　a　smoke；　but　it　was　too　risky。　All　arou