10:30 PM
KIT1 waited in his room, impatient for everyone to settle down for the night. He needed to get away as soon as possible, but everything would be ruined if someone heard him leave, so he forced himself to linger.
He sat at the old desk in the box room. His laptop was still plugged in, to conserve2 the battery: he would need it later tonight. His mobile phone was in his pocket.
He had dealt with three calls to and from the Kremlin. Two had been harmless personal calls to guards, and he had let them through. The third had been a call from the Kremlin to Steepfall. Kit guessed that Steve Tremlett, having failed to reach Toni Gallo, might have wanted to let Stanley know about the problem with the phones. He had played a recorded message saying there was a fault on the line.
While he waited, he listened restlessly to the sounds of the house. He could hear Olga and Hugo having a row in the next bedroom to his, Olga firing questions and assertions like a pistol, Hugo by turns abject3, pleading, persuading, bantering4, and abject again. Downstairs, Luke and Lori clattered5 pots and crockery in the kitchen for half an hour, then the front door slammed as they left to go to their house a mile away. The children were in the barn, and Miranda and Ned had presumably gone to the guest cottage. Stanley was the last to bed. He had gone into his study, closed the door, and made a phone call—you could tell when someone was on the phone elsewhere in the house, because a "busy" light appeared on all the extensions. After a while Kit heard him climb the stairs and close his bedroom door. Olga and Hugo both went to the bathroom, and afterward6 they were quiet; either reconciled or exhausted7. The dog, Nellie, would be in the kitchen, lying next to the Aga, the warmest place in the house.
Kit waited a little longer, giving them all a chance to go to sleep.
He felt vindicated8 by the family squabble earlier. Miranda's peccadillo9 proved that he was not the only sinner in the family. They blamed him for revealing a secret, but it was better to have these things out in the open. Why should his transgressions10 be blown up out of all proportion and hers discreetly11 hidden away? Let them be angry. He had enjoyed seeing Olga smack12 Hugo. My old sister packs a punch, he thought with amusement.
He wondered if he dared leave yet. He was ready. He had taken off his distinctive13 signet ring, and had replaced his stylish14 Armani wristwatch with a nondescript Swatch. He was dressed in jeans and a warm black sweater; he would carry his boots and put them on downstairs.
He stood up—then heard the back door slam. He cursed with frustration15. Someone had come in—one or two of the kids, probably, raiding the fridge. He waited to hear the door again, indicating that they had left; but instead footsteps mounted the stairs.
A moment later he heard his bedroom door open. The footsteps crossed the outer room and Miranda came into the box room. She wore Wellington boots and a Barbour over her nightdress, and she was carrying a sheet and a duvet. Without speaking, she went to the sleepchair and unfolded it.
Kit was irate16. "For God's sake, what do you want?"
"I'm sleeping here," she replied calmly.
"You can't!" he said, panicking.
"I don't see why not."
"You're supposed to be in the cottage."
"I've had a row with Ned, thanks to your dinnertime revelation, you sneaking17 little shit."
"I don't want you here!"
"I don't give a damn what you want."
Kit tried to stay calm. He watched with dismay as Miranda made up a bed on the sleepchair. How was he going to steal out of his bedroom, with her in here where she could hear everything? She was upset, she might not go to sleep for hours. And then, in the morning, she was sure to get up before he returned and notice his absence. His alibi18 was collapsing19.
He had to go now. He would pretend to be even angrier than he really was. "Fuck you," he said. He unplugged his laptop and closed the lid. "I'm not staying here with you." He stepped into the bedroom.
"Where are you going?"
Out of her sight, he picked up his boots. "I'm going to watch TV in the drawing room."
"Keep the volume low." She slammed the door between the two rooms.
Kit went out.
He tiptoed across the dark landing and down the stairs. The woodwork creaked, but this house shifted constantly, and no one took any notice of odd noises. A faint light from the porch lamp came through a small window beside the front door and made halos around the hat stand, the newel post at the foot of the stairs, and the stack of directories on the telephone table. Nellie came out of the kitchen and stood by the door, wagging her tail, hoping with irrepressible canine20 optimism to be taken for a walk.
Kit sat on the stairs and put his boots on, listening for the sound of a door opening above him. This was a dangerous moment, and he felt a shiver of fear as he fumbled21 with his laces. People were always walking around in the middle of the night: Olga might want a drink of water, Caroline could come over from the barn looking for a headache pill, Stanley might be struck by scientiflc inspiration and go to his computer.
He tied his bootlaces and put on his black Puffa jacket. He was almost out.
If someone saw him now, he would simply go. No one would stop him. The problem would arise tomorrow. Knowing he had left, they might guess where he had gone, and his whole plan was that no one should understand what had happened.
He shoved Nellie away from the door and opened it. The house was never locked: Stanley believed that intruders were unlikely in this lonely spot, and anyway the dog was the best burglar alarm.
Kit stepped outside. It was bitterly cold, and the snow was falling heavily. He pushed Nellie's nose back inside and closed the door behind himself with a soft click.
The lights around the house were left on all night, but despite them he could hardly see the garage. The snow was several inches thick on the ground. In a minute his socks and the cuffs22 of his jeans were soaked. He wished he had worn Wellingtons.
His car was on the far side of the garage, a duvet of snow on its roof. He hoped it would start. He got in, putting his laptop on the passenger seat beside him, so that he could deal quickly with calls to and from the Kremlin. He turned the key in the ignition. The car coughed and spluttered but, after a few seconds, the engine turned over.
Kit hoped no one had heard it.
The snow was so heavy it was blinding. He was obliged to switch on his headlights, and pray that no one was looking out of a window.
He pulled away. The car slid alarmingly on the thick snow. He crept forward, careful not to turn the steering23 wheel suddenly. He coaxed24 the car onto the drive, maneuvered25 cautiously around the headland and into the woods, and followed the lane all the way to the main road.
Here the snow was not virgin26. There were tire tracks in both directions. He turned north, heading away from the Kremlin, and drove in the tracks. After ten minutes he turned onto a side road that wound over hills. There were no tire tracks here, and he slowed even more, wishing he had four-wheel drive.
At last he saw a sign that read "Inverburn School of Flying." He turned into an entry. Double wire gates stood open. He drove in. His headlights picked out a hangar and a control tower.
The place appeared deserted27. For a moment, Kit half-hoped the others would not show up and he could call off the whole thing. The thought of suddenly ending this terrible tension was so appealing that his spirits sank and he began to feel depressed28. Pull yourself together, he thought. Tonight will be the end of all your troubles.
The hangar door stood partly open. Kit drove slowly in. There were no planes inside—the airfield29 operated only in the summer months—but he immediately saw a light-colored Bentley Continental30 that he recognized as Nigel Buchanan's. Beside it stood a van marked "Hibernian Telecom."
The others were not in sight, but a faint light came from the stairwell. Carrying his laptop, Kit followed the stairs up to the control tower.
Nigel sat at the desk, wearing a pink roll-neck sweater and a sports jacket, looking calm, holding a mobile phone to his ear. Elton leaned against the wall, dressed in a tan trench31 coat with the collar turned up. He had a big canvas bag at his feet. Daisy slumped32 on a chair, heavy boots on the windowsill. She wore tight-fitting gloves of light tan suede33 that looked incongruously ladylike.
Nigel spoke34 into the phone in his soft London voice. "It's snowing quite heavily here, but the forecast says the worst of the storm will pass us by... Yeah, you will be able to fly tomorrow morning, no problem . . . We'll be here well before ten . . . I'll be in the control tower, I'll talk to you as you come in ... There won't be any trouble, so long as you've got the money, all of it, in fifties, as agreed."
The talk of money gave Kit a shiver of excitement. Three hundred thousand pounds, in his hands, in twelve hours and a few minutes. True, he would have to give most of it to Daisy immediately, but he would keep flfty thousand. He wondered how much room fifty grand in fifty-pound notes would take up. Could he keep it in his pockets? He should have brought a briefcase35 . . .
"Thank you," Nigel was saying. "Goodbye." He turned around. "What-ho, Kit. You're bang on time."
Kit said, "Who was on the phone—our buyer?"
"His pilot. He'll be arriving by helicopter."
Kit frowned. "What will his flight plan say?"
"That he's taking off from Aberdeen and landing in London. No one will know that he made an unscheduled stop at the Inverburn Flying School."
"Good."
"I'm glad you approve," Nigel said with a touch of sarcasm36. Kit constantly questioned him about his areas of responsibility, worried that Nigel, though experienced, was not as educated or as intelligent as he. Nigel answered his questions with an affectation of amusement, obviously feeling that Kit, as an amateur, ought to trust him.
Elton said, "Let's get dragged up, shall we?" He took from his bag four sets of overalls37 with "Hibernian Telecom" printed on the back. They all climbed into them.
Kit said to Daisy, "The gloves look odd with the overalls."
"Too bad," she said.
Kit stared at her for a few moments, then dropped his gaze. She was trouble, and he wished she were not coming tonight. He was scared of her, but he also hated her, and he was determined38 to put her down, both to establish his authority and by way of revenge for what she had done to him that morning. There was going to be a clash before long, and he both feared it and longed for it.
Next, Elton handed out faked identity cards that said "Hibernian Telecom Field Maintenance Team." Kit's card bore a photograph of an older man who looked nothing like him. The man in the picture had black hair that grew halfway39 over his ears in a style that had never been fashionable in Kit's lifetime, plus a heavy Zapata mustache and glasses.
Elton reached into his bag yet again and handed Kit a black wig40, a black mustache, and a pair of heavy-framed glasses with tinted41 lenses. He also gave him a h?nd mirror and a small tube of glue. Kit glued the mustache to his upper lip and put on the wig. His own hair was mid-brown and cut fashionably short. Looking in the mirror, he was satisfied that the disguise altered his appearance radically42. Elton had done a good job.
Kit trusted Elton. His humor covered a ruthless efficiency. He would do whatever was nccessary to finish the job, Kit thought.
Tonight Kit planned to avoid anyone among the guards who had been employed at the Kremlin when he was there. However, if he had to speak to any of them, he felt confident they would not recognize him. He had taken off his distinctive jewelry43, and he would change his voice.
Elton also had disguises for Nigel, Daisy, and himself. They were not known to anyone at the Kremlin, so they were in no danger of being recognized immediately; but later the security guards would describe the intruders to the police, and the disguises would ensure that those descriptions bore no relation to their actual faces.
Nigel also had a wig, Kit saw. Nigel's own hair was sandy-colored and short, but his wig was mid-gray and chin-length, making the casually44 elegant Londoner look like an aging Beatle. He also had glasses with unfashionably large frames.
Daisy had a long blond wig over her shaved head. Tinted contact lenses turned her eyes from brown to bright blue. She was even more hideous45 than usual. Kit had often wondered about her sex life. He had once met someone who claimed to have slept with her, but all the man would say about it was "I've still got the bruises46." As Kit looked, she removed the steel rings that pierced her eyebrow47, her nose, and her lower lip. She looked only a little less weird48.
Elton's own disguise was the most subtle. All he had was a set of false teeth that gave him an overbite—but he looked completely different. The handsome dude had gone, and in his place was a nerd.
Finally, he gave them all baseball caps with "Hibernian Telecom" printed on them. "Most of those security cameras are placed high," he explained. "A cap with a long peak will make sure they don't get a good shot of your face."
They were ready. There was a moment of silence while they looked at one another. Then Nigel said, "Showtime."
They left the control tower and went down the stairs to the hangar. Elton got into the driving seat of the van. Daisy jumped in next to him. Nigel took the third seat. There was no more room in the front: Kit would have to sit on the floor in the back with the tools.
As he stared at them, wondering what to do, Daisy edged close to Elton and put a hand on his knee, "Do you fancy blondes?" she said.
He stared ahead expressionlessly. "I'm married."
She moved her h?nd up his thigh49. "I bet you fancy a white girl, for a change, though, don't you?"
"I'm married to a white girl." He took hold of her wrist and moved her hand off his leg.
Kit decided50 this was the moment to deal with her. With his heart in his mouth, he said, "Daisy, get in the back of the van."
"Fuck off," she replied.
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Get in the back."
"Try and make me."
"Okay, I will."
"Go ahead," she said with a grin. "I'm looking forward to this."
"The operation is off," Kit said. He was breathing hard, out of fear, but he made his voice calm. "Sorry, Nigel. Good night, all." He walked away from the van on shaky legs.
He got into his own car, started the engine, turned on the headlights, and waited.
He could see into the front of the van. They were arguing. Daisy was waving her arms. After a minute, Nigel got out of the van and held the door. Still Daisy argued. Nigel went around to the back and opened the rear doors, then returned to the front.
At last, Daisy got out. She stood staring malevolently51 at Kit. Nigel spoke to her again. Finally she got in the back of the van and slammed the doors.
Kit returned to the van and got into the front. Elton pulled away, drove out of the garage, and stopped. Nigel closed the big hangar door and got into the van. Elton muttered, "I hope they're right about the weather forecast. Look at this fucking snow." They headed out through the gate.
Kit's mobile rang. He lifted the lid of his laptop. On the screen he read: "Toni calling Kremlin."
收听单词发音 |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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peccadillo
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| n.轻罪，小过失 | |
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transgressions
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| n.违反，违法，罪过( transgression的名词复数 ) | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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maneuvered
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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airfield
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| n.飞机场 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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suede
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| n.表面粗糙的软皮革 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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briefcase
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| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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48
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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51
malevolently
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