df.theedge-第63节

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hat　the　same　as　the　one　in　Filmer's　briefcase；　Tor？'。
　　He　pushed　a　paper　across　and　I　glanced　at　it。　'Identical；　except　for　the　headings。'
　　'Good。　The　path　lab　confirmed　they　kept　the　letter　stored　in　their　puter　but　they　don't　know　yet　how　anyone　outside　could　get　a　print…out。　We're　still　trying。　So　are　they。　They　don't　like　it　happening。'
　　'How　about　a　list　of　their　employees；'　I　said；　'including　temporary　secretaries　or　wizard　hacker　office　boys？'
　　'Where　do　you　get　such　language？'　the　Brigadier　protested。　He　produced　a　sheet　of　names。　'This　was　the　best　they　could　do。'
　　I　read　the　list。　None　of　the　names　was　familiar。
　　'Do　you　really　need　to　know　the　connection？'　Bill　Baudelaire　asked。
　　'It　would　be　neater；'　I　said。
　　The　Brigadier　nodded。　'John　Millington　is　working　on　it。　We're　talking　to　him　by　telephone　before　tomorrow's　meeting。　Now；　the　next　thing；'　he　turned　to　me。　'That　conveyance　you　saw　in　the　briefcase。　As　you　suggested；　we　checked　the　number　SF　90155　with　the　Land　Registry。'　He　chuckled　with　all　George　Burley's　enjoyment。　'That　alone　would　have　been　worth　your　trip。'
　　He　explained　why。　Bill　Baudelaire　said；　'We've　got　him；　then；'　with　great　satisfaction：　and　the　joint　manders…in…Chief　began　deciding　in　which　order　they　would　fire　off　their　accumulated　salvoes。
　　Julius　Apollo　walked　into　a　high…up　private　room　in　Exhibition　Park　racecourse　on　Tuesday　morning　to　sign　and　receive；　as　he　thought；　certification　that　he　was　the　sole　owner　of　Laurentide　Ice；　which　would　run　in　his　name　that　afternoon。
　　The　room　was　the　President　of　the　racecourse's　conference　room；　having　a　desk　attended　by　three　fortable　armchairs　at　one　end；　with　a　table　surrounded　by　eight　similar　chairs　at　the　other。　The　doorway　from　the　passage　was　at　mid…point　between　the　groupings；　so　that　one　turned　right　to　the　desk；　left　to　the　conference　table。　A　fawn　carpet　covered　the　floor；　horse　pictures　covered　the　walls；　soft　yellow　leather　covered　the　armchairs：　a　cross　between　fort　and　practicality；　without　windows　but　with　interesting　spot…lighting　from　recesses　in　the　ceiling。
　　When　Filmer　entered；　both　of　the　Directors　of　Security　were　sitting　behind　the　desk；　with　three　senior　members　of　the　Vancouver　Jockey　Club　and　the　British　Columbia　Racing　mission　seated　at　the　conference　table。　They　were　there　to　give　weight　to　the　proceedings　and　to　bear　witness　afterwards；　but　they　had　chosen　to　be　there　simply　as　observers；　and　they　had　agreed　not　to　interrupt　with　questions。　They　would　take　notes；　they　said；　and　ask　questions　afterwards；　if　necessary。
　　Three　more　people　and　I　waited　on　the　other　side　of　a　closed　door　which　led　from　the　conference　table　end　of　the　room　into　a　serving　pantry；　and　from　there　out　again　into　the　passage。
　　When　Filmer　arrived　I　went　along　the　passage　and　locked　the　door　he　had　e　in　by；　and　put　the　key　in　the　pocket　of　my　grey　raincoat；　which　I　wore　buttoned　to　the　neck。　Then　I　walked　back　along　the　passage　and　into　the　serving　pantry　where　I　stood　quietly　behind　the　others　waiting　there。
　　A　microphone　stood　on　the　desk　in　front　of　the　Directors；　with　another　on　the　conference　table；　both　of　them　leading　to　a　tape　recorder。　Out　in　the　serving　pantry；　an　amplifier　quietly　relayed　everything　that　was　said　inside。
　　Bill　Baudelaire's　deep　voice　greeted　Filmer；　invited　him　to　sit　in　the　chair　in　front　of　the　desk；　and　said；　'You　know　Brigadier　Catto；　of　course？'
　　As　the　two　men　had　glared　at　each　other　times　without　number；　yes；　he　knew　him。
　　'And　these　other　gentlemen　are　from；　the　Jockey　Club　and　Racing　mission　here　in　Vancouver。'
　　'What　is　this？'　Filmer　asked　truculently。　'All　I　want　is　some　paperwork。　A　formality。'
　　The　Brigadier　said；　'We　are　taking　this　opportunity　to　make　some　preliminary　enquiries　into　some　racing　matters；　and　it　seemed　best　to　do　it　now；　as　so　many　of　the　people　involved　are　in　Vancouver　at　this　time　'
　　'What　are　you　talking　about？'　Filmer　said。
　　'We　should　explain；'　the　Brigadier　said　smoothly；　'that　we　are　recording　what　is　said　in　this　room　this　morning。　This　is　not　a　formal　trial　or　an　official　enquiry；　but　what　is　said　here　may　be　repeated　at　any　trial　or　enquiry　in　the　future。　We　would　ask　you　to　bear　this　in　mind。'
　　Filmer　said　strongly；　'I　object　to　this。'
　　'At　any　future　trial　or　Jockey　Club　enquiry；'　Bill　Baudelaire　said；　'you　may　of　course　be　acpanied　by　a　legal　representative　We　will　furnish　you　with　a　copy　of　the　tape　of　this　morning's　preliminary　proceedings　which　you　may　care　to　give　to　your　lawyer　'
　　'You　can't　do　this；'　Filmer　said　　'I'm　not　staying。'
　　When　he　went　to　the　door　he　had　entered　by；　he　found　it　locked。
　　'Let　me　out；'　Filmer　said　furiously　'You　can't　do　this　'
　　In　the　serving　pantry　Mercer　Lorrimore　took　a　deep　breath；　opened　the　door　to　the　conference　room；　went　through　and　closed　it　behind　him。
　　'Good…morning；　Julius；'　he　said。
　　'What　are　you　doing　here？　'　Filmer's　voice　was　surprised　but　not　overwhelmingly　dismayed。　'Tell　them　to　give　me　my　paper　and　he　done　with　it　'
　　'Sit　down；　Julius；'　Mercer　said　He　was　speaking　into　the　conference　table　microphone；　his　voice　sounding　much　louder　than　Filmer's　'Sit　down　by　the　desk。'
　　'The　preliminary　enquiry；　Mr　Filmer；'　the　Brigadier's　voice　said；　'is　principally　into　your　actions　before　and　during；　and　in　conjunction　with；　the　journey　of　the　race　train。'　There　was　a　pause；　presumably　a　wait　for　Filmer　to　settle。　Then　the　Brigadier's　voice　again；　'Mr　Lorrimore。。。　may　I　ask　you　？　'
　　Mercer　cleared　his　throat。　'My　son　Sheridan；'　he　said　evenly；　'who　died　two　days　ago；　suffered　intermittently　from　a　mental　instability　which　led　him　sometimes　to　do　bizarre。。。　and　unpleasant　things　'
　　There　was　a　pause。　No　words　from　Filmer。
　　Mercer　said；　'To　his　great　regret；　there　was　an　incident　of　that　sort；　back　in　May　Sheridan　killed。。。　some　animals。　The　bodies　were　taken　from　where　they　were　found　by　a　veterinary　pathologist　who　then　performed　private　autopsies　on　them　'　He　paused　again。　The　strain　was　clear　in　his　voice；　but　he　didn't　falter。　'You；　Julius；　indicated　to　my　family　on　the　train　that　you　knew　about　this　incident；　and　three　of　us。。。　my　wife　Bambi；　my　son　Sheridan　and　myself。。。　all　understood　during　that　evening　that　you　would　use　Sheridan's　regrettable　act　as　leverage　to　get　hold　of　my　horse；　Voting　Right。'
　　Filmer　said　furiously；　'That　damned　play！'
　　'Yes；'　Mercer　said。　'It　put　things　very　clearly。　After　Sheridan　died；　I　gave　permission　to　the　Master　of　my　son's　college；　to　the　British　Jockey　Club　Security　Service；　and　to　the　veterinary　pathologist　himself；　to　find　out　how　that　piece　of　information　came　into　your　possession。'
　　'We　did　find　out；'　the　Brigadier　said；　and　repeated　what　a　triumphant　John　Millington　had　relayed　to　us　less　than　an　hour　ago。　'It　happened　by　chance。。。　by　accident。　You；　Mr　Filmer；　owned　a　horse；　trained　in　England　at　Newmarket；　which　died。　You　suspected　poison　of　some　sort　and　insisted　on　a　post…mortem；　making　your　trainer　arrange　to　have　some　organs　sent　to　the　path　lab。　The　lab　wrote　a　letter　to　your　trainer　saying　there　was　no　foreign　substance　in　the　organs；　and　at　your　request　they　later　sent　a　copy　of　the　letter　to　you。　One　of　their　less　bright　puter　operators　had　meanwhile　loaded　your　letter　on　to　a　very　private　disc　which　she　shouldn't　have　used；　and　in　some　way　chain…loaded　it；　so　that　you　received　not　only　a　copy　of　your　letter　but　copies　of　three　other　letters　besides；　letters　which　were　private　and　confidential。'　The　Brigadier　paused。　'We　know　this　is　so；'　he　said；　'because　when　one　of　our　operators　asked　the　lab　to　print　out　a　copy　for　us；　your　own　letter　and　the　others　came　out　attached　to　it；　chain…loaded　into　the　same　secret　document　name。'
　　The　pathologist；　Millington　had　said；　was　in　total　disarray　and　thinking　of　scrapping　the　lab's　puter　for　a　new　one。　'But　it　wasn't　the　puter；'　he　said。　'It　was　a　nitwit　girl；　who　apparently　thought　the　poison　enquiry　on　the　horse　was　top　secret　also；　and　put　it　on　the　top…secret　disc。　They　can't　sack　her；　she　left　weeks　ago。'
　　'Could　the　pathologist　be　prosecuted　for　the　cover…up？'　the　Brigadier　had　asked。
　　'Doubtful；'　Millington　had　said；　'now　that　Sheridan's　dead。'
　　Filmer's　voice；　slightly　hoarse；　came　out　of　the　loudspeaker　into　the　pantry。　'This　is　rubbish。'
　　'You　kept　the　letter；'　the　Brigadier　said。　'It　was　dynamite；　if　you　could　find　who　it　referred　to。　No　doubt　you　kept　all　three　of　the　letters；　though　the　other　two　didn't　concern　criminal　acts。　Then　you　saw　one　day　in　your　local　paper　that　Mercer　Lorrimore　was　putting　up　money　for　a　new　college　library。　And　you　would　have　had　to　ask　only　one　question　to　find　out　that　Mercer　Lorrimore's　son　had　left　that　college　in　a　hurry　during　May。　After　that；　you　would　have　found　that　no　one　would　say　why。　You　became　sure　that　the　letter　refered　to　Sheridan　Lorrimore。　You　did　nothing　with　your　information　until　you　heard　that　Mercer　Lorrimore　would　be　on　the　Transcontinental　Race　Train；　and　then　you　saw　an　opportunity　of　exploring　the　possibility　of　blackmailing　Mr　Lorrimore　into　letting　you　have　his　horse；　Voting　Right。'
　　'You　can't　prove　any　of　this