df.theedge-第41章
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in between。 Please would you tell the Brigadier that one…five…one is the bination that unlocks the right…hand latch of a black crocodile briefcase。 We have three unknowns on the left。'
'Good gracious；' she said。
'Could you say I would appreciate his instructions？'
'I could； young man。 Why don't you just steal the briefcase and take your time？'
I laughed。 'I've thought of that； but I'd better not。 Ornot yet； anyway。 If the numbers have any logic； this way is safest。'
'Val would presumably prefer you didn't get arrested。'
Or murdered； perhaps； I thought。
'I would say；' I agreed； 'that getting myself arrested would lose me my job。'
'You'd no longer be invisible？'
'Quite right。'
'And I'm afraid；' she said； 'that I have some more negative news for you。'
'What is it？' I asked。
'Bill says the samples of water you sent him were just that； water。'
'That's good news； actually。'
'Oh？ Well； good； then。'
I reflected。 'I think I'll phone you again this evening before we leave Winnipeg。'
'Yes； do；' she agreed。 'The further west you go the bigger the time change and the longer it takes to get replies from Val Catto。'
'Mm。'
Mrs Baudelaire couldn't ring the Brigadier in the middle of his night； nor in the middle of hers。 Toronto； where she lived； was five hours behind London； Winnipeg six； Vancouver eight。 At breakfast time in Vancouver； London's office workers began travelling home。 Confusing for carrier pigeons。
'Good luck；' she said。 'I'll talk to you later。'
I was used by now to her abrupt disappearances。 I put my receiver down； hearing only silence on the line； and wondered what she looked like； and how deeply she was ill。 I would go back to Toronto； I thought； and see her。
I sped again on the bus to the races and found that overnight Assiniboia Downs had sprouted all the ballyhoo of Woodbine； T…shirt stalls； banners and besashed bosoms Supporting Canadian Racing included。
I again spent most of the afternoon looking for gaunt…face； ing in the end to the conclusion that whatever he was doing on the train he wasn't travelling because of an overpowering interest in racing。 The racegoers from the train were on the whole easily identifiable as they all seemed to have been issued with large red and white rosettes with Race Train Passenger emblazoned on them in gold and the rosettes proved not to be confined to those in the front half of the train because I came across Zak wearing one too； and he told me that everyone had been given one； the owners included； and where was mine。
I didn't know about them； I said。 Too bad； he said； because they entitled everyone to free entry； free race…cards and free food。 They were gifts from the racecourse； he said。 Nell should have one for me； he thought。
I asked him how the scene from the mystery had fared that morning； as Nell had described what had happened the day before。
'A lot better without that bastard Sheridan。'
'Wasn't he there？'
'I got Nell to tell his father that if Sheridan came to breakfast we wouldn't be putting on our scene； and it did the trick。 No Sheridan。' He grinned。 'No Lorrimores at all； in fact。' He looked around。 'But they're all here； Sheridan included。 They were getting out of a stretch limo when we rolled up in our private bus。 That's where we were given these rosettes； on the bus。 How did you get here； then？'
'On a public bus。'
'Too bad。'
His batteries were running at half…speed； neither highly charged up nor flat。 Under the mop of curls his face； without the emphasizing make…up he wore perpetually on the train； looked younger and more ordinary： it was David Flynn who was at the races； not Zak。'Are all the actors here？ ' I asked。
'Oh； sure。 We have to know what happens here today。 Have to be able to talk about it to the owners tonight。 Don't forget； it's a racing mystery； after all。'
I thought that I had forgotten； in a way。 The real mystery that I was engaged in tended to crowd the fiction out。
'What are you betting on in our race？ ' he asked。 'I suppose Premiere will win。 What do you think？'
'Upper Gumtree；' I said。
'It's supposed to be half asleep；' he objected。
'It's got a nice face；' I said。
He looked at me sideways。 'You're crazy； you know that？'
'I am but mad north…north…west。'
'When the wind is southerly；' he said promptly； 'I know a hawk from a handsaw。' He laughed。 There isn't an actor born who doesn't hope to play Hamlet。'
'Have you ever？'
'Only in school。 But once learned； never forgotten。 Shall I give you my 〃To be or not to be〃？'
'No。'
'You slay me。 See you tonight。'
He went off with a medium spring to his step and I saw him later with his arms round Donna's shoulders； which wasn't （as far as I knew） in his script。
Most of the owners came down from the Clubhouse to watch the saddling of the runners in the Jockey Club Race Train Stakes； and all the sportier of them wore the rosettes。Filmer didn't： there was no lightheartedness in him。 Daffodil however had fastened hers to her cleavage； the red； white and gold popping out now and again past the long…haired chinchillas。 Mrs Young wore hers boldly on her lapel。 Mr Young's wasn't in sight。
The Unwins； resetted； were showing uninhibited pleasure in Upper Gumtree； who did in fact have a nice face； and wasn't unacceptably sleepy。 Upper Gumtree's trainer hadn't made the journey from Australia； and nor had his usual jockey： Canadian substitutes had been found。 The Unwins beamed and patted everyone within reach including the horse； and Mr Unwin in his great antipodean accent could be heard calling his jockey 'son'； even though the rider looked older by far than the owner。
In the next stall along things were a great deal quieter。 Mercer Lorrimore； unattended by the rest of his family； talked pleasantly with his trainer； who had e from Toronto； and shook hands with his jockey； the same one who had ridden for him at Woodbine。 Premiere； the favourite； behaved like a horse that had had a fuss made of him all him life； almost； I thought fancifully； as arrogantly as Sheridan。
The owners of Flokati were showing Mavis and Walter Bricknell…type behaviour； fluttering about in a nervous anxiety that would be bound to effect the horse if it went on too long。 Their ineffective…looking trainer was trying to stop the owners from straightening the number cloth； tidying the forelock over the headband； tweaking at the saddle and shoving their big rosettes with every ill…judged movement near the horse's affronted nostrils。 A riot； really。 Poor Mr and Mrs Flokati； owning the horse looked an agony； not a joy。
Mr and Mrs Young； like Mercer Lorrimore； had shipped their Winnipeg runners； two of them； by road。 They； old hands at the owning game； stood by with calm interest while their pair； Soluble and Slipperclub； were readied； Mrs Young speaking with her sweet expression to one to the jockeys； Mr Young more impassively to the other。
Daffodil Quentin's runner； Pampering； had been flown in with five others owned by people on the train； all of whom were strolling around with rosettes and almost permanently smiling faces。 This was； after all； one of the highlights of their journey； the purpose behind the pizzazz。 I learned that the Manitoba Racing mission had moreover by midafternoon given each of them not only a champagne reception and a splendid lunch but also； as a memento； a framed group photograph of all the owners on the trip。 They were living their memories； I thought； here and now。
Television cameras all over the place recorded everything both for news items that evening and for the two…hour Support Canadian Racing programme which posters everywhere announced was being made for a gala showing coast to coast after the triple had been pleted in Vancouver。
The Winnipeg runners went out on to the track to bugle fanfares and cheers from the stands and were pony…escorted to the starting gate。
Mercer Lorrimore's colours； red and white like the resetted he had pinned on gamely For the Sake of Canadian Racing； could be seen entering the outermost stall。 Daffodil's pale blue and dark green were innermost。 U
