ssheldon.doomsdayconspiracy-第19部分

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　Robert　thought。　　Another　sign　read：　Walter　Bookmaker。　　。。。　　Mothershed　probably　places　his　bets　on　horses　there。
　
　They　finally　reached　213A　Grove　Road。　　Robert　dismissed　the　taxi　and　studied　the　building　in　front　of　him。　　It　was　an　ugly　two…story　building　that　had　been　divided　into　small　flats。　　Inside　was　the　man　who　had　a　plete　list　of　the　witnesses　Robert　had　been　sent　to　find。
　
　Leslie　Mothershed　was　in　the　living　room　poring　over　his　windfall　when　the　doorbell　rang。　　He　looked　up；　startled；　filled　with　a　sudden　inexplicable　fear。　　The　ring　was　repeated。
　
　Mothershed　scooped　up　his　precious　photographs　and　hurried　into　the　converted　darkroom。　　He　slipped　the　pictures　into　a　pile　of　old　prints；　then　walked　back　into　the　living　room　and　opened　the　front　door。　　He　stared　at　the　stranger　who　stood　there。
　〃Yes？〃
　〃Leslie　Mothershed？〃
　〃That's　right。　　What　can　I　do　for　you？〃
　〃May　I　e　in？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　　What　is　this　about？〃
　
　Robert　pulled　out　a　Defence　Ministry　identification　card　and　flashed　it。
　〃I'm　here　on　official　business；　Mr。　Mothershed。　　We　can　either　talk　here　or　at　the　ministry。〃　　It　was　a　bluff。　　But　he　could　see　the　sudden　fear　on　the　photographer's　face。
　
　Leslie　Mothershed　swallowed。
　〃I　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about；　but…e　in。〃
　
　Robert　entered　the　drab　room。　　It　was　shabby…genteel；　dreary；　not　a　place　where　anyone　would　live　by　choice。
　〃Would　you　kindly　explain　what　you're　doing　here？〃
　
　Mothershed　put　the　proper　note　of　innocent　exasperation　in　his　voice。
　〃I'm　here　to　question　you　about　some　photographs　you　took。〃
　
　He　knew　it！　　He　had　known　it　from　the　moment　he　heard　the　bell。
　
　The　bastards　are　going　to　try　to　take　my　fortune　away　from　me。　Well；　I'm　not　going　to　let　them　do　it。
　〃What　photographs　are　you　talking　about？〃
　
　Robert　said　patiently；　〃The　ones　you　took　at　the　site　of　the　UFO　crash。〃
　
　Mothershed　stared　at　Robert　a　moment；　as　though　caught　by　surprise；　and　then　forced　a　laugh。
　〃Oh；　those！　　I　wish　I　had　them　to　give　to　you。〃
　〃You　did　take　those　pictures？〃
　〃I　tried。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean　。。。　　you　tried？〃
　〃The　bloody　things　never　came　out。〃　　Mothershed　gave　a　nervous　cough。
　〃My　camera　fogged。　　That's　the　second　time　that's　happened　to　me。〃　He　was　babbling　now。
　〃I　even　threw　out　the　negatives。　　They　were　no　good。　　It　was　a　plete　waste　of　film。　　And　you　l：：now　how　expensive　film　is　these　days。〃　　He's　a　bad　liar；　Robert　thought。　　He's　on　the　edge　of　panic。　Robert　said　sympathetically；　〃Too　bad。　　Those　photographs　would　have　been　very　helpful。〃　　He　said　nothing　about　the　list　of　passengers。　　If　Mothershed　lied　about　the　photographs；　he　would　lie　about　the　list。　Robert　glanced　around。　　The　photographs　and　the　list　had　to　be　hidden　here　somewhere。　They　shouldn't　be　difficult　to　find。
　
　The　flat　consisted　of　a　small　living　room；　a　bedroom；　a　bathroom；　and　what　looked　like　a　door　to　a　utility　closet。　　There　was　no　way　he　could　force　the　man　to　hand　over　the　material。　　He　had　no　real　authority。　　But　he　wanted　those　photographs　and　the　list　of　witnesses　before　the　515　came　and　took　them　away。　　He　needed　that　list　for　himself。
　〃Yes。〃
　
　Mothershed　sighed。
　〃Those　pictures　would　have　been　worth　a　fortune。〃
　〃Tell　me　about　the　spaceship；〃　Robert　said。　　Mothershed　gave　an　involuntary　shudder。　　The　eerie　scene　was　fixed　in　his　mind　forever。
　〃I'll　never　forget　it；〃　he　said。
　〃The　ship　seemed　to…to　pulsate；　like　it　was　alive。　　There　was　something　evil　about　it。　　And　then　there　were　these　two　dead　aliens　inside。〃
　〃Can　you　tell　me　anything　about　the　passengers　on　the　bus？〃
　
　Sure　I　can；　Mothershed　gloated　to　himself。　　I　have　all　their　names　and　addresses。
　〃No；　I'm　afraid　I　can't。〃　　Moth…　1　ershed　went　on；　talking　to　conceal　his　nervousness。
　〃The　reason　I　can't　help　you　with　the　passengers　is　that　I　wasn't　on　that　bus。　　They　were　all　strangers。〃
　〃I　see。　　Well；　thank　you　for　your　cooperation；　Mr。　Mothershed。　　I　appreciate　it。　　Sorry　about　your　pictures。〃
　〃So　am　I；〃　Mothershed　said。　　He　watched　the　door　close　behind　the　stranger　and　thought　happily；　I've　done　it！　　I've　outsmarted　the　sonsol'bitches。
　
　Outside　in　the　hall；　Robert　was　examining　the　lock　on　the　door。　　A　Chubb。　　And　an　old　model。　　It　would　take　him　seconds　to　open　it。　　He　would　start　surveillance　in　the　middIe　of　the　night　and　wait　for　the　photographer　to　leave　the　flat　in　the　morning。　　Once　I　have　the　list　of　passengers　in　my　possession；　the　rest　of　the　assignment　will　be　simple。　Robert　checked　into　a　small　hotel　near　Mothershed's　flat　and　telephoned　General　Hilliard。
　〃I　have　the　name　of　the　English　witness；　General。〃
　〃Just　a　moment。　　All　right。　　Go　ahead；　mander。〃
　〃Leslie　Mothershed。　　He　lives　in　Whitechapel；　at　213A　Grove　Road。〃
　〃Excellent。　　I'll　arrange　for　the　British　authorities　to　speak　to　him。〃
　
　Robert　did　not　mention　the　passenger　list　or　the　photographs。
　
　Those　were　his　aces　in　the　hole。
　
　*　*　*　Reggie's　Fish　and　Chip　Shop　was　located　in　a　little　cul…de…sac　off　the　Brompton　Road。　　It　was　a　small　establishment　with　a　clientele　made　up　mainly　of　clerks　and　secretaries　who　worked　in　the　neighborhood。　　Its　walls　were　covered　with　football　posters；　and　the　parts　that　were　exposed　had　not　seen　fresh　paint　since　the　Suez　conflict。
　
　The　phone　behind　the　counter　rang　twice　before　it　was　answered　by　a　large　man　dressed　in　a　greasy　wool　sweater。　　The　man　looked　like　a　typical　East　Ender　except　for　a　gold…rimmed　monocle　fixed　tightly　in　the　socket　of　his　leff　eye。　　The　reason　for　the　monocle　was　apparent　to　anyone　who　looked　closely　at　the　man：　His　other　eye　was　made　of　glass　and　of　a　color　blue　that　was　generally　seen　on　travel　posters。
　〃Reggie　here。〃
　〃This　is　the　Bishop。〃
　〃Yes；　sir；〃　said　Reggie；　his　voice　dropping　to　a　whisper。
　〃Our　client's　name　is　Mothershed。　　Christian　tag；　Leslie。　　Resides　at　213A　Grove　Road。　　We　need　this　order　filled　quickly。　　Understood？〃
　〃It's　already　done；　sir。〃
　
　eslie　Mothershed　was　lost　in　a　golden　daydream。　　He　was　being　interviewed　by　members　of　the　world　press。　　They　were　asking　him　about　the　huge　castle　he　had　just　bought　in　Scotland；　his　chateau　in　the　South　of　France；　his　enormous　yacht。
　〃And　is　it　true　that　the　Queen　has　invited　you　to　bee　the　official　royal　photographer？〃
　〃Yes。　　I　said　I　would　let　her　know。　　And　now；　ladies　and　gentlemen；　if　you　will　all　excuse　me；　I'm　late　for　my　show　at　the　B。C。。。。'；　His　reverie　was　interrupted　by　the　sound　of　the　doorbell。　　He　looked　at　his　watch。　　Eleven　o'clock。　　Has　that　man　returned？　　He　walked　over　to　the　door　and　cautiously　opened　it。　　In　the　doorway　stood　a　man　shorter　than　Mothershed　（that　was　the　first　thing　he　noticed　about　him）；　with　thick　glasses　and　a　thin；　sallow　face。
　〃Excuse　me；〃　the　man　said　diffidently。
　〃I　apologize　for　disturbing　you　at　this　hour。　　I　live　just　down　the　block。　　The　sign　outside　says　you're　a　photographer。〃
　〃So？〃
　〃Do　you　do　passport　photos？〃
　
　Leslie　Mothershed　do　passport　photos？　　The　man　who　is　about　to　own　the　world？　　That　is　like　asking　Michelangelo　to　paint　the　bathroom。
　〃No；〃　he　said　rudely。　　He　started　to　close　the　door。
　〃I　really　hate　to　bother　you；　but　I'm　in　a　terrible　jam。
　
　My　plane　leaves　for　Tokyo　at　eight　o'clock　in　the　morning；　and　a　little　while　ago　when　I　took　out　my　passport；　I　saw　that　somehow　my　photograph　had　been　torn　loose。　　It's　missing。　　I've　looked　everywhere。
　
　They　won't　let　me　on　the　plane　without　a　passport　photo。〃　　The　little　man　was　near　tears。
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　Mothershed　said。
　〃I　can't　help　you。〃
　〃I'd　be　willing　to　pay　you　a　hundred　pounds。〃　　A　hundred　pounds？
　
　Toaman　withacas　the　andachateau　and　a　yacht？　　It's　an　insult。　　The　pathetic　little　man　was　going　on。
　〃I　could　go　even　higher。　　Two　hundred　or　three　hundred。　　You　see；　I　really　must　be　on　that　plane　or　I'll　lose　my　job。〃
　
　Three　hundred　pounds　to　take　a　passport　picture？　　Not　including　the　developing；　it　would　take　about　10　seconds。　　Mothershed　began　to　calculate。　　That　came　to　1；800　pounds　a　minute。　　Eighteen　hundred　pounds　a　minute　was　10；800　pounds　an　hour。　　If　he　worked　an　eight…hour　day；　that　would　be　94；400　pounds　a　day。　　In　one　week；　that　would　e　to　〃Will　you　do　it？〃
　
　Mothershed's　ego　jockeyed　with　his　greed；　and　greed　won　out。　　I　can　use　a　bit　of　pocket　money。
　〃e　in；〃　Mothershed　said。
　〃Stand　against　that　wall。〃
　〃Thank　you。　　I　really　appreciate　this。〃　　Mothershed　wished　he　had　a　Polaroid　camera。　　That　would　have　made　it　so　simple。　　He　picked　up　his　Vivitar　and　said；　〃Hold　still。〃　　Ten　seconds　later　it　was　done。
　〃It　will　take　a　while　to　develop　it；〃　Mothershed　said。
　〃If　you　e　back　in…〃
　〃If　you　don't　mind；　I'll　wait。〃
　〃Suit　yourself。〃
　
　Mothershed　took　the　camera　into　the　darkroom；　put　it　into　the　black　bag；　turned　off　the　overhead　light；　switched　on　the　red　light；　and　removed　the　film。　　He　would　do　this　in　a　hurry。　　Passport　pictures　always　looked　terrible　anyway。　　Fifteen　minutes　later；　as　Mothershed　was　timing　the　film　in　the　developer　tanks；　he　began　to　smell　smoke。　　He　paused。　　Was　it　his　imagination？　　No。　The　smell　was　getting　stronger。　He　turned　to　open　the　door。　　It　seemed　to　be　stuck。
　
　Mothershed　pushed　against　it。　　It　held　fast。
　〃Hello；〃　he　called　out。
　〃What's　happening　out　there？〃
　
　There　was　no　response。
　〃Hello？〃
　
　He　pressed　his　shoulder　against　the　door；　but　there　seemed　to　be　something　heavy　on　the　other　side　of　it　keeping　it　closed。
　〃Mister？〃
　
　There　was　no　answer。　　The　only　sound　he　could　hear　was　a　loud　crackling　noise。　　The　smell　of　smoke　was　being　overpowering。　　The　flat　was　on　fire。　　That's　probably　why　he　left。　　He　must　have　gone　to　get　help。　Leslie　Mothershed　slammed　his　shoulder　against　the　door；　but　it　would　not　budge。
　〃Help！〃　　he　screamed。
　〃Get　me　out　of　here！〃
　
　Smoke　was　starting　to　pour　under　the　door；　and　Mothershed　could　feel　the　heat　of　the　flames　beginning　to　lick　at　it。　　It　was　getting　difficult　to　breathe。　　He　was　starting　to　choke。　　He　tore　at　his　collar；　gasping　for　air。　　His　lungs　were　burning。　　He　was　beginning　to　lose　consciousness。　He　sank　down　on　his　knees。
　〃Oh；　God；　please　don't　let　me　die　now