jamesclavell.noblehouse-第175节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃Sure；　honey；　but　first　we　go　this　way　then　we'll　go　your　way。　Huh？　e　on；　darlin'。〃
　Armstrong　hunched　deeper　into　the　shadows。　He　watched　them　approach；　wondering　if　this　was　the　one。　The　man's　accent　was　Southern　and　sweet…sounding　and　he　was　in　his　late　twenties。　As　he　strolled　along　the　busy　street　he　looked　this　way　and　that；　seeking　his　bearings。　Then　Armstrong　saw　him　spot　the　tailor's　shop　on　one　corner　of　the　alley　that　was　called　Pop…ting's　Handmade　Suits；　and；　opposite　it；　a　small；　open…faced　restaurant　lit　with　bare　bulbs　and　with　a　crudely　written　sign　nailed　to　a　post：　WELE　TO　AMERICAN　SAILORS。　The　bold　column　of　Chinese　characters　over　the　door　read：　〃A　Thousand　Years'　Health　to　Mao　Tse…tung　Restaurant。〃
　〃C'mon；　honey；〃　the　sailor　said；　brightening。　〃Let's　have　a　beer　here。〃
　〃No　good　place；　baby；　better　e　my　bar；　heya？　Bett…　〃
　〃Goddamnit　we're　having　a　beer　here。〃　He　went　into　the　open　shop　and　sat　at　one　of　the　plastic　tables；　bulky　in　his　raincoat。　Sullenly　she　followed。　〃Beer。　Two　beers！　San　Miguel；　huh？　You　savvy　huh？〃
　From　where　he　sat；　Armstrong　could　see　them　both　clearly。　One　of　the　tables　was　filled　with　four　coolies　who　noisily　sucked　noodles　and　soup　into　their　mouths。　They　glanced　at　the　sailor　and　the　girl　briefly。　One　made　an　obscene　remark　and　the　others　laughed。　The　girl　blushed；　turning　her　back　to　them。　The　sailor　hummed　as　he　looked　around　carefully；　sipping　his　beer；　then　stood　up。　〃I　gotta　use　the　can。〃　Unerringly　he　went　to　the　back　through　the　flyblown　string　curtain；　the　counterman　watching　him　sourly；　Armstrong　sighed　and　relaxed。　The　trap　was　sprung。
　In　a　moment　the　sailor　returned。　〃C'mon；〃　he　said；　〃let's　get　outta　here。〃　He　drained　his　glass；　paid；　and　they　went　off　arm　in　arm　again　the　way　they　had　e。
　〃You　want　more　S'pore　noodles？〃　the　stall　keeper　asked　Armstrong　rudely；　his　hostile　eyes　just　slits　in　his　high…boned　face。
　〃No　thanks。　Just　another　beer。〃
　〃No　beer。〃
　〃Fornicate　you　and　all　your　line；〃　Armstrong　hissed　in　perfect　gutter　Cantonese。　〃Am　I　a　fool　from　the　Golden　Mountain？　No；　I'm　a　guest　in　your　fornicating　restaurant。　Get　me　a　fornicating　beer　or　I'll　have　my　men　slit　your　Secret　Sack　and　feed　those　peanuts　you　call　your　treasure　to　the　nearest　dog！〃
　The　man　said　nothing。　Sullenly　he　went　to　the　next　street　stall　and　got　a　San　Miguel　and　brought　it　back　and　set　it　on　the　counter；　opening　it。　The　other　diners　were　still　gaping　at　Armstrong。　Abruptly　he　hawked　loudly　and　spat　and　put　his　cold　blue　eyes　on　the　man　nearest　him。　He　saw　him　shiver　and　look　away。　Uneasily　the　others　went　back　to　their　bowls　too；　unfortable　to　be　in　the　presence　of　a　barbarian　policeman　who　had　the　bad　manners　to　swear　so　colloquially　in　their　tongue。
　Armstrong　eased　more　fortably　on　the　stool；　then　let　his　eyes　range　the　road　and　the　alley；　waiting　patiently。
　He　did　not　have　long　to　wait　before　he　saw　the　small；　squat　chunky　European　ing　up　the　alley；　keeping　to　the　side；　stopping　and　peering　into　the　storefront　of　a　cheap　shoe　shop　behind　the　street　stalls　that　crowded　the　narrow　roadway。　Ah；　he's　a　professional；　Armstrong　thought；　very　pleased；　knowing　the　man　was　using　the　glass　as　a　mirror　to　case　the　restaurant。　The　man　took　his　time。　He　wore　a　shapeless　plastic　raincoat　and　hat　and　appeared　nondescript。　His　body　was　hidden　for　a　moment　as　a　coolie　swayed　past　him　with　huge　bundles　on　either　end　of　the　bamboo　pole　on　his　shoulders。　Armstrong　noticed　his　knotted　calves；　varicose…veined；　as　he　watched　the　feet　of　the　other　man。　They　moved　and　he　walked　out　of　the　alley；　covered　by　the　coolie；　and　did　not　stop；　just　continued　up　the　road。
　He's　very　good；　the　policeman　thought　admiringly；　still　having　him　in　sight。　This　bugger's　done　this　before。　Must　be　KGB　to　be　this　smart。　Well；　it　won't　be　long　now；　my　fine　fellow；　before　you're　hooked；　he　told　himself　without　rancor；　as　a　fisherman　would　seeing　a　fat　trout　teasing　the　bait。
　The　man　was　shop…watching　again。　e　along；　little　fish。
　The　man　was　acting　just　like　a　trout。　He　made　several　passes　and　went　away　and　came　back　but　always　very　carefully　and　without　attracting　attention。　At　last　he　went　into　the　open…faced　restaurant　and　sat　down　and　ordered　a　beer。　Armstrong　sighed　again；　happy　now。
　It　seemed　to　take　the　man　an　interminable　time　before　he；　too；　got　up；　asked　where　the　toilet　was；　walked　through　the　few　diners　and　went　under　the　bead　curtain。　In　time　he　reappeared　and　went　for　his　table。　At　once　the　four　coolie　diners　fell　on　him　from　behind；　pinioning　his　arms　and　holding　him　helpless；　while　another　strapped　a　stiff　high　collar　around　his　neck。　Other　diners；　real　customers；　and　not　undercover　SI　police；　gaped；　one　dropped　his　chopsticks；　a　couple　fled　and　the　others　froze。
　Armstrong　got　up　from　his　stool　leisurely　and　walked　over。　He　saw　the　tough…looking　Chinese　behind　the　counter　take　off　his　apron。　〃Shut　up；　you　bastard；〃　the　fellow　said　in　Russian　to　the　man　who　cursed　and　struggled　impotently。　〃Evening；　Superintendent；〃　he　added　to　Armstrong　with　a　sly　grin。　His　name　was　Malcolm　Sun；　he　was　a　senior　agent；　SI；　and　ranking　Chinese　on　this　16/2。　It　was　he　who　had　organized　the　intercept　and　had　paid　off　the　cook　who　usually　worked　this　shift　and　had　taken　his　place。
　〃Evening；　Malcolm。　You　did　very　well。〃　Armstrong　turned　his　attention　to　the　enemy　agent。　〃What's　your　name？〃　he　asked　pleasantly。
　〃Who　you？　Let　me　go　。。。　let　go！〃　the　man　said　in　heavily　accented　English。
　〃All　yours；　Malcolm；〃　Armstrong　said。
　At　once；　Sun　said　in　Russian；　〃Listen　you　mother…eater；　we　know　you're　off　the　Ivanov；　we　know　you're　a　courier　and　you've　just　picked　up　a　drop　from　the　American　off　the　nuclear　carrier。　We've　already　got　the　bastard　in　custody　and　you'd　bet…　〃
　〃Lies！　You've　made　a　mistake；〃　the　man　blustered　in　Russian。　〃I　know　nothing　of　any　American。　Let　me　go！〃
　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃You've　made　a　mistake。　Let　me　go！〃　A　crowd　of　gaping；　gawking　onlookers　was　now　surrounding　the　store。
　Malcolm　Sun　turned　to　Armstrong。　〃He's　a　ripe　one；　sir。　Doesn't　understand　very　good　Russian。　I'm　afraid　we'll　have　to　take　him　in；〃　he　said　with　a　twisted　smile。
　〃Sergeant；　get　the　Black　Maria。〃
　〃Yes　sir。〃　Another　agent　went　off　quickly　as　Armstrong　went　closer。　The　Russian　was　gray…haired；　a　squat　man　with　small；　angry　eyes。　He　was　held　perfectly　with　no　chance　of　escape　and　no　chance　to　put　a　hand　into　a　pocket　or　into　his　mouth　to　destroy　evidence；　or　himself。
　Armstrong　searched　him　expertly。　No　manual　or　roll　of　film。　〃Where　did　you　put　it？〃　he　asked。
　〃I　no　understand！〃
　The　man's　hatred　did　not　bother　Armstrong。　He　bore　him　no　malice；　the　man　was　just　a　target　who　had　been　trapped。　I　wonder　who　shopped　this　poor　bugger　who's　frightened　to　death；　rightly；　who's　now　ruined　with　the　KGB　and　with　his　own　people　forever　and　might　as　well　be　a　dead　man。　I　wonder　why　it's　our　coup　and　not　old　Rosemont's　and　his　CIA　boys？　How　is　it　we're　the　ones　who　knew　about　the　drop　and　not　the　Yanks？　How　is　it　Crosse　got　to　know　about　this？　All　Crosse　had　told　him　was　the　where　and　the　how　and　that　the　drop　was　going　to　be　made　by　a　sailor　from　the　carrier　and　intercepted　by　someone　off　the　Ivanov。
　〃You're　in　charge；　Robert；　and　please；　don't　make　a　balls　up。〃
　〃I　won't。　But　please　get　someone　else　for　Brian　K…　〃
　〃For　the　last　time；　Robert；　you're　doing　the　Kwok　interrogation　and　you're　seconded　to　SI　until　I　release　you。　And　if　you　bitch　once　more　I'll　have　you　out　of　the　force；　out　of　Hong　Kong；　out　of　your　pension　and　I　hardly　need　remind　you　SI's　reach　is　very　long。　I　doubt　if　you'd　work　again；　unless　you　go　criminal；　and　then　God　help　you。　Is　that　finally　clear？〃
　〃Yes　sir。〃
　〃Good。　Brian　will　be　ready　for　you　at　six　tomorrow　morning。〃
　Armstrong　shivered。　How　impossibly　lucky　we　were　to　catch　him！　If　Spectacles　Wu　hadn't　e　from　Ning…tok　…　if　the　old　amah　hadn't　talked　to　the　Werewolf　…　if　the　run　on　the　bank　…　Christ；　so　many　ifs。　But　then　that's　how　you　catch　a　fish；　a　big　fish。　Pure；　bloody；　unadulterated　luck　most　times。　Jesus　Christ；　Brian　Kwok！　You　poor　bugger！
　He　shivered　again。
　〃You　all　right；　sir？〃　Malcolm　Sun　asked。
　〃Yes。〃　Armstrong　looked　back　at　the　Russian。　〃Where　did　you　put　the　film；　the　roll　of　film？〃
　The　man　stared　back　at　him　defiantly。　〃Don't　understand！〃
　Armstrong　sighed。　〃You　do；　too　well。〃　The　big　black　van　came　through　the　gawking　crowd　and　stopped。　More　SIs　got　out。　〃Put　him　in　and　don't　let　go　of　him；〃　Armstrong　said　to　those　holding　him。　The　crowd　watched　and　chattered　and　jeered　as　the　man　was　frog…marched　into　the　van。　Armstrong　and　Sun　got　in　after　him　and　closed　the　door。
　〃Off　you　go；　driver；〃　Armstrong　ordered。
　〃Yes　sir。〃　The　driver　let　in　his　clutch　easing　through　the　crowds　and　joined　the　snarled　traffic　heading　for　Central　HQ。
　〃All　right；　Malcolm。　You　can　begin。〃
　The　Chinese　agent　took　out　a　razor…sharp　knife。　The　Soviet　man　blanched。
　〃What's　your　name？〃　Armstrong　asked；　sitting　on　a　bench　opposite　him。
　Malcolm　Sun　repeated　the　question　in　Russian。
　〃D　。。。　Dimitri　Metkin；〃　the　man　muttered；　still　held　viselike　by　the　four　men　and　unable　to　move　a　finger　or　a　toe。　〃Seaman；　first　class。〃
　〃Liar；〃　Armstrong　said