df.theedge-第6节
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The actor； Robbie； on the top floor； had been of enormous use to me； though I doubted he really knew it。 He'd invited me up for a beer early one evening a few days after I went to live there； and I'd found him sitting before a brightly lit theatrical dressing table creating； as he said； a new make…up for a part he'd accepted in a play。 I'd been startled to see how a different way of brushing his hair； how a large false moustache and heavier eyebrows had changed him。
'Tools of the trade；' he said； gesturing to the grease paints and false hair lying in neat rows and boxes before him。 'Instant stubble； Fauntleroy curls…what would you like？'
'Curls；' I said slowly。
'Sit down； then；' he said cheerfully； getting up to give me his place； and he brought out a butane hair curler and wound my almost straight hair on to it bit by bit there and then； and within minutes I looked like a brown poodle； tousled； unbrushed； totally different。
'How's that？' he said； bending to look with me into the looking glass。
'Amazing。' And easy； I thought。 I could do it in the car； any time。
'It suits you；' Robbie said。 He knelt down beside me； put his arm round my shoulders； gave me a little squeeze and smiled with unmistakable invitation into my eyes。
'No；' I said matter of factly 'I like girls。'
He wasn't offended。 'Haven't you ever tried the other？'
'It's just not me； dear；' I said； 'as one might say。'
He laughed and took his arm away。 'Never mind； then。 No harm in trying。'
We drank the beer and he showed me how to shape and stick on a bold macho moustache； holding out a pair of thick…framed glasses for good measure。 I regarded the stranger looking back at me from the glass and said I'd never realized how easy it was to mislead
'Sure thing。 All it takes is a bit of nerve。'
And he was right about that。 I bought a butane curler for myself； but I took it with me for a week in the car before I screwed myself up to stop in a lay…by on the way to Newbury races and actually use it。 In the three years since then； I'd done it dozens of times without a thought； brushing and damping out the effects on the way home。
Sundays I usually spent lazily in my two big bright rooms on the first floor （the barrister directly above； the sisters below） sleeping； reading； pottering about。 For about a year some time earlier I'd spent my Sundays with the daughter of one of the Hobbs Sandwich members； but it had been a mutual passing pleasure rather than a grand passion for both of us； and in the end she'd drifted away and married someone else。 I supposed I too would marry one day： knew I would like to： felt there was no hurry this side of thirty。
On the Sunday morning after meeting the Brigadier in the club I began to think about what I should pack for Canada。 He'd told me to be what I spent so much time not being； a rich young loafer with nothing to do but enjoy myself。 'All you need to do is talk about horses to the other passengers and keep your eyes open。'
'Yes； 'I said。
'Look the part。'
'Yes； right。'
'I've caught sight of you sometimes at the races； you know； looking like a stockbroker one day and a hillbilly the next。 Millington says he often can't see you； even though he knows you're there。'
'I've got better with practice； I suppose； but I never really do much。 Change my hair； change my clothes； slouch a bit。'
'It works；' he said。 'Be what Filmer would expect。'
It wasn't so much what Filmer would expect； I thought； looking at the row of widely assorted jackets in my wardrobe； but what I could sustain over the ten days the party was due to take before it broke up。
Curls； for instance； were out； as they disappeared in ram。 Stuck…on moustaches were out in case they came off。 Spectacles were out； as one could forget to put them on。 I would have to look basically as nature had ordained and be as nondescript and unnoticeable as possible。
I sorted out the most expensive and least worn of my clothes； and decided I'd better buy new shirts； new shoes and a cashmere sweater before I went。
I telephone Millington on Monday morning as instructed and found him in his usual state of disgruntlement。 He had heard about the train。 He was not in favour of my going on it。 The Security Service （meaning the Brigadier） should have sent a properly trained operative； an ex…policeman preferably。 Like himself； for instance。 Someone who knew the techniques of investigation and could be trusted not to destroy vital evidence through ignorance and clumsiness。 I listened without interruption for so long that； in the end； he said sharply； 'Are you still there？'
'Yes；' I said
'I want to see you； preferably later this morning。 I'll have your air ticket I suppose you do have an up…to…date passport？'
We agreed to meet； as often before； in a reasonably good small snack…bar next to Victoria Station； convenient for both Millington who lived a couple of miles south…west across Battersea Bridge； and for me a few stops down the line to the south。
I arrived ten minutes before the appointed time and found Millington already sitting at a table with a mug of brown liquid and several sausage rolls in progress。 I took a tray； slid it along the rails in front of the glass…fronted serving display and picked a slice of cheesecake from behind one of the small hinged doors。 I actually approved of the glass…door arrangement： it meant that with luck one's cheesecake wouldn't have been sneezed on by the general public； but only by a cook or two and the snack…bar staff。
Millington eyed my partially hygienic wedge and said he preferred the lemon meringue pie； himself。
'I like that too；' I said equably。
Millington was a big beer…and…any…kind…of…pie man who must have given up thankfully on weight control when he left the police。 He looked as if he now weighed about seventeen stone； and while not gross was definitely a solid mass； but with an agility also that he put to good use in his job。 Many petty racecourse crooks had made the mistake of believing Millington couldn't snake after them like an eel through the crowds； only to feel the hand of retribution falling weightily on their collar。 I'd seen Millington catch a dipping pickpocket on the wind； an impressive sight
The large convenience…food snack…bar； bright and clean； was always infernally noisy； pop music thumping away to the acpaniment of chairs scraping the floor and the clatter of meals at a gallop。 The clientele were mostly travellers； ing or going on trains lacking buffet cars； starving or prudent； travellers checking their watches； gulping too…hot coffee； uninterested in others； leaving in a hurry。 No one ever gave Millington and me a second glance； and no one could ever have overheard what we said。
We never met there when there was racing at places like Plumpton； Brighton； Lingfield and Folkestone； on those days the whole racing circus could wash through Victoria Station。 We never met； either； anywhere near the Security Service head office in the Jockey Club； in Portman Square。 It was odd； I sometimes thought； that I'd never once been through my employer's door。
Millington said； 'I don't approve of you travelling with Filmer。'
'So I gathered；' I said。 'You said so earlier。'
'The man's a murderer '
He wasn't concerned for my safety； of course； but thought me unequal to the contest。
'He may not actually murder anyone on the train；' I said flippantly。
'It's no joke；' he said severely。 'And after this he'll know you； and you'll be no use to us on the racecourse； as far as he's concerned。'
'There are about fifty people going on the trip； the Brigadier said。 I won't push myself into Filmer's notice。 He quite likely won't remember me afterwards。'
'You'll be too close to him；' Millington said obstinately。
'Well；' I said thoughtfully； 'it's the only chance we've ever had so far to get really close to him at all。 Even if he's only going along for a harmless holiday； we'll know a good deal more about him this way。'
'I don't like wasting you；' Millington said； shaking his head。
I looked at him in real surprise。 'That's a change；' I said。
'I didn't want you working for us； to begin with；' he said； shrugging。 'Didn't see what good you could do； thought it was stupid。 Now you're my eyes。 The eyes in the back of my head； that the villains have been plaining about ever since you started。 I've got the sense to know it。 And if you must know； I don't want to lose you。 I told the Brigadier we were wasting our trump card； sending you on that train。 He said we might be playing it； and if we could get rid of Filmer； it was worth it。'
I looked at Millington's worried face。 I said slowly； 'Do you； and does the Brigadier； know something about Filmer's travel plans that you've not told me？'
'When he said that；' Millington said； looking down at his sausage rolls； 'I asked him that same question。 He didn't answer。 I don't know of anything myself。 I'd tell you； if I did。'
Perhaps he would； I thought。 Perhaps he wouldn't。
The next day； Tuesday； I drove north to Nottingham for a normal day's hard work hanging around doing nothing much at the races。
I'd bought t
