jamesclavell.noblehouse-第60部分

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and　the　next　corner　leapt　at　him。　Here　the　grade　was　steeper；　the　road　more　winding　and　narrow。　Again　he　cornered　badly　but　once　through　he　had　a　split　second　to　grab　the　hand　brake　and　this　slowed　him　only　a　little；　the　new　corner　was　on　him；　and　he　came　out　of　it　way　out　of　his　lane；　oning　headlights　blinding　him。
　The　taxi　skittered　in　panic　to　the　shoulder　and　almost　went　over　the　side；　its　horn　blaring　but　he　was　passed　by　a　fraction　of　an　inch；　lurching　petrified　for　the　correct　side；　and　then　went　on　down　the　hill　out　of　control。　A　moment　of　straight　road　and　he　managed　to　jerk　the　gear　lever　into　low　as　he　hurtled　into　another　blind　corner；　the　engine　howling　now。　The　sudden　slowing　would　have　pitched　him　through　the　windshield　but　for　his　seat　belt；　his　hands　almost　frozen　to　the　wheel。
　He　got　around　this　corner　but　again　he　was　out　too　far　and　he　missed　the　oning　car　by　a　millimeter；　skidded　back　to　his　side　once　more；　swerved；　overcorrecting；　slowing　a　little　now　but　there　was　no　letup　in　the　grade　or　twisting　road　ahead。　He　was　still　going　too　fast　into　the　new　hairpin　and　ing　out　of　the　first　part　he　was　too　far　over。　The　heavily　laden　truck　grinding　up　the　hill　was　helpless。
　Panic…stricken　he　tore　the　wheel　left　and　just　managed　to　get　around　the　truck　with　a　glancing　blow。　He　tried　to　jerk　the　gear　lever　into　reverse　but　it　wouldn't　go；　the　cogs　shrieking　in　protest。　Then；　aghast；　he　saw　slow　traffic　ahead　in　his　lane；　oning　traffic　in　the　other　and　the　road　vanish　around　the　next　bend。　He　was　lost　so　he　turned　left　into　the　mountainside；　trying　to　ricochet　and　stop　that　way。
　There　was　a　howl　of　protesting　metal；　the　back　side　window　shattered　and　he　bounced　away。　The　oning　car　lurched　for　the　far　shoulder；　its　horn　blaring。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　braced　for　the　head…on　collision　but　somehow　it　didn't　happen　and　he　was　past　and　just　had　enough　strength　to　jerk　the　wheel　hard　over　again　and　went　into　the　mountainside。　He　hit　with　a　glancing　blow。　The　front　left　fender　ripped　away。　The　car　ploughed　into　the　shrub　and　earth；　then　slammed　into　a　rock　outcrop；　reared　up　throwing　Gornt　aside；　but　as　the　car　fell　back　the　near…side　wheel　went　into　the　storm　drain　and　held；　and；　just　before　smashing　into　the　paralyzed　little　Mini　ahead；　it　stopped。
　Gornt　weakly　pulled　himself　up。　The　car　was　still　half　upright。　Sweat　was　pouring　off　him　and　his　heart　was　pounding。　He　found　it　hard　to　breathe　or　to　think。　Traffic　both　ways　was　stopped；　snarled。　He　heard　some　horns　hooting　impatiently　below　and　above；　then　hurried　footsteps。
　〃You　all　right；　old　chap？〃　the　stranger　asked。
　〃Yes；　yes　I　think　so。　My；　my　brakes　went。〃　Gornt　wiped　the　sweat　off　his　forehead；　trying　to　get　his　brain　to　work。　He　felt　his　chest；　then　moved　his　feet　and　there　was　no　pain。　〃I　。。。　the　brakes　went　。。。　I　was　turning　a　corner　and　。。。　and　then　everything　。。。〃
　〃Brakes；　eh？　Not　like　a　Rolls。　I　thought　you　were　pretending　to　be　Stirling　Moss。　You　were　very　lucky。　I　thought　you'd　had　it　twenty　times。　If　I　were　you　I'd　switch　off　the　engine。〃
　〃What？〃　Then　Gornt　realized　the　engine　was　still　gently　purring　and　the　radio　playing　so　he　turned　the　ignition　off　and；　after　a　moment；　pulled　the　keys　out。
　〃Nice　car；〃　the　stranger　said；　〃but　it's　a　right　proper　mess　now。　Always　liked　this　model。　'62；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Yes。　Yes　it　is。〃
　〃You　want　me　to　call　the　police？〃
　Gornt　made　the　effort　and　thought　a　moment；　his　pulse　still　pounding　in　his　ears。　Weakly　he　unsnapped　the　seat　belt。　〃No。　There's　a　police　station　just　back　up　the　hill。　If　you'd　give　me　a　lift　to　there？〃
　〃Delighted；　old　chap。〃　The　stranger　was　short　and　rotund。　He　looked　around　at　the　other　cars　and　taxis　and　trucks　that　were　stopped　in　both　directions；　their　Chinese　drivers　and　Chinese　passengers　gawking　at　them　from　their　windows。　〃Bloody　people；〃　he　muttered　sourly。　〃You　could　be　dying　in　the　street　and　you'd　be　lucky　if　they　stepped　over　you。〃　He　opened　the　door　and　helped　Gornt　out。
　〃Thanks。〃　Gornt　felt　his　knees　shaking。　For　a　moment　he　could　not　dominate　his　knees　and　he　leaned　against　the　car。
　〃You　sure　you're　all　right？〃
　〃Oh　yes。　It's　。。。　that　frightened　me　to　death！〃　He　looked　at　the　damage；　the　nose　buried　into　earth　and　shrub；　a　huge　score　down　the　right　side；　the　car　jammed　well　into　the　inside　curve。　〃What　a　bloody　mess！〃
　〃Yes；　but　it　hasn't　telescoped　a　sausage！　You　were　bloody　lucky　you　were　in　a　good　car；　old　chap。〃　The　stranger　let　the　door　swing　and　it　closed　with　a　muted　click。　〃Great　workmanship。　Well；　you　can　leave　it　here。　No　one's　likely　to　steal　it。〃　The　stranger　laughed；　leading　the　way　to　his　own　car　which　was　parked；　its　blinker　lights　on；　just　behind。　〃Hop　in；　won't　take　a　jiffy。〃
　It　was　then　Gornt　remembered　the　mocking　half…smile　on　Dunross's　face　that　he　had　taken　for　bravado　as　he　left。　His　mind　cleared。　Would　there　have　been　time　for　Dunross　to　tamper　。。。　with　his　knowledge　of　engines　。。。　surely　he　wouldn't　。。。　？
　〃Son　of　a　bitch；〃　he　muttered；　aghast。
　〃Not　to　worry；　old　chap；〃　the　stranger　said；　as　he　eased　past　the　wreck；　making　the　turn。　〃The　police'll　make　all　the　arrangements　for　you。〃
　Gornt's　face　closed。　〃Yes。　Yes　they　will。〃
　
　13
　
　10：25　P。M。　：
　
　〃Grand　dinner；　Ian；　better　than　last　year's；〃　Sir　Dunstan　Barre　said　expansively　from　across　the　table。
　〃Thank　you。〃　Dunross　raised　his　glass　politely　and　took　a　sip　of　the　fine　cognac　from　the　brandy　snifter。
　Barre　gulped　his　port　then　refilled　his　glass；　more　florid　than　usual。　〃Ate　too　much；　as　usual；　by　God！　Eh　Phillip？　Phillip！〃
　〃Yes　。。。　oh　yes　。。。　much　better　。。。〃　Phillip　Chen　muttered。
　〃Are　you　all　right；　old　chap？〃
　〃Oh　yes　。。。　it's　just　。。。　oh　yes。〃
　Dunross　frowned；　then　let　his　eyes　rove　the　other　tables；　hardly　listening　to　them。
　There　were　just　the　three　of　them　now　at　this　round　table　that　had　seated　twelve　fortably。　At　the　other　tables　spread　across　the　terraces　and　lawns；　men　were　lounging　over　their　cognac；　port　and　cigars；　or　standing　in　clusters；　all　the　ladies　now　inside　the　house。　He　saw　Bartlett　standing　over　near　the　buffet　tables　that　an　hour　ago　had　been　groaning　under　the　weight　of　roast　legs　of　lamb；　salads；　sides　of　rare　beef；　vast　hot　steak…and…kidney　pies；　roast　potatoes　and　vegetables　of　various　kinds；　and　the　pastries　and　cakes　and　ice　cream　sculptures。　A　small　army　of　servants　was　cleaning　away　the　debris。　Bartlett　was　in　deep　conversation　with　Chief　Superintendent　Roger　Crosse　and　the　American　Ed　Langan。　In　a　little　while　I'll　deal　with　him；　he　told　himself　grimly　…　but　first　Brian　Kwok。　He　looked　around。　Brian　Kwok　was　not　at　his　table；　the　one　that　Adryon　had　hosted；　or　at　any　of　the　others；　so　he　sat　back　patiently；　sipped　his　cognac　and　let　himself　drift。
　Secret　files；　MI…6；　Special　Intelligence；　Bartlett；　Casey；　Gornt；　no　Tsu…yan　and　now　Alan　Medford　Grant　very　dead。　His　phone　call　before　dinner　to　Kiernan；　Alan　Medford　Grant's　assistant　in　London；　had　been　a　shocker。　〃It　was　sometime　this　morning；　Mr。　Dunross；〃　Kiernan　had　said。　〃It　was　raining；　very　slippery　and　he　was　a　motorcycle　enthusiast　as　you　know。　He　was　ing　up　to　town　as　usual。　As　far　as　we　know　now　there　were　no　witnesses。　The　fellow　who　found　him　on　the　country　road　near　Esher　and　the　A3　highway；　just　said　he　was　driving　along　in　the　rain　and　then　there　in　front　of　him　was　the　bike　on　its　side　and　a　man　sprawled　in　a　heap　on　the　edge　of　the　road。　He　said　as　far　as　he　could　tell；　AMG　was　dead　when　he　reached　him。　He　called　the　police　and　they've　begun　inquiries　but　。。。　well；　what　can　I　say？　He's　a　great　loss　to　all　of　us。〃
　〃Yes。　Did　he　have　any　family？〃
　〃Not　that　I　know　of；　sir。　Of　course　I　informed　MI…6　at　once。〃
　〃Oh？〃
　〃Yes　sir。〃
　〃Why？〃
　There　was　heavy　static　on　the　line。　〃He'd　left　instructions　with　me；　sir。　If　anything　happened　to　him　I　was　to　call　two　numbers　at　once　and　cable　you；　which　I　did。　Neither　number　meant　anything　to　me。　The　first　turned　out　to　be　the　private　number　of　a　high…up　official　in　MI…6　…　he　arrived　within　half　an　hour　with　some　of　his　people　and　they　went　through　AMG's　desk　and　private　papers。　They　took　most　of　them　when　they　left。　When　he　saw　the　copy　of　the　last　report；　the　one　we'd　just　sen