gns.theplutopact-第5部分

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e　let　her　in　here。　The　cramped　conditions　would　encourage　the　inevitable。
　　
　　It　was　crazy。　Life　would　just　go　on　and　on　until　something　happened　up　at　Oxide　Reprocessing。　Then　it　would　all　e　to　a　stop。　That　would　be　it。　Finis。　The　culmination　of　an　age…old　curse　which　nobody　really　believed　in。
　　
　　He　reached　into　a　cupboard　beside　his　desk；　and　drew　out　a　half…full　bottle　of　whisky　and　a　tumbler　that　could　have　done　with　a　wash。　He　splashed　some　of　the　amber　liquid　into　it　and　drank　half　at　one　gulp。　He　coughed　and　spluttered。　He　wasn't　a　drinking　man；　but　it　eased　his　feelings。　Already　it　was　beginning　to　relax　him　a　little。　Soon　his　thoughts　came　round　to　Anne　again。　It　was　always　Anne　nowadays。　He　remembered　how　it　had　begun　between　them…a　gradual　process；　so　gradual　that　at　first　neither　of　them　realised　they　were　being　emotionally　involved。　If　she　had　lived　in　a　flat　of　her　own；　it　would　all　have　been　too　easy。　It　would　have　bee　their　secret　sex　den；　and　possibly　the　whole　affair　would　have　remained　purely　physical。
　　
　　Coyle's　erection　started　again　as　he　sat　there　in　his　office；　sipping　the　whisky　and　staring　at　the　peeling　brown　wallpaper。　Even　this　paratively　new　extension　to　the　old　premises　was　already　in　need　of　redecorating。
　　
　　Anne　lived　with　her　parents；　a　very　staid；　typically　Scottish　couple　who　would　likely　suffer　a　stroke　if　realisation　suddenly　dawned　that　their　daughter　had　actually　lost　her　virginity。
　　
　　It　hadn't　even　begun　as　a　result　of　working　late　in　the　office　after　the　rest　of　the　printing　staff　had　gone　home。　It　had　simply　e　about　through　boredom。　Coyle　had　been　taking　Anne　home　at　night。　It　wasn't　much　out　of　his　way；　and　he　enjoyed　the　prospect　of　young　female　pany　for　a　quarter　of　an　hour　after　a　routine　day。
　　
　　Then　one　summer　evening　they　had　driven　up　on　to　the　moorland　above　the　valley；　to　view　the　building　of　the　nuclear　waste　reprocessing　plant　from　above…built　directly　over　that　place　where　for　some　inexplicable　reason　no　grass　grew。　'Sterile　ground；'　the　surveyor　had　shrugged。　'Barren　rock　from　which　the　elements　have　washed　away　the　topsoil。'　People　seemed　ready　enough　to　accept　that　unlikely　explanation。　Coyle　had　taken　a　camera　with　him　to　get　a　picture　for　the　following　week's　Herald。　He　could　have　sent　Ross；　the　official　photographer；　but　instead　had　suggested　to　Anne　that　they　go　and　view　for　themselves　the　new　ugliness　creeping　into　the　valley。
　　
　　Coyle　had　taken　his　photographs；　and　then；　on　impulse；　he　persuaded　Anne　to　let　him　snap　her；　too。　Coyly；　she　had　agreed。　She　had　been　wearing　a　thin　nylon　blouse；　and　a　short　skirt　which　had　obligingly　lifted　in　the　breeze　as　he　pressed　the　button。　Nothing　else　had　happened　between　them；　he　had　not　even　kissed　her。　During　the　drive　back　his　hand　had　brushed　hers；　but　she　had　not　responded。
　　
　　Coyle　developed　and　printed　those　pictures　himself。　Those　intended　for　publication　he　handed　over　to　Ross；　whose　wry　expression　soundlessly　criticised　his　boss's　talents。　But　the　one　of　Anne　he　hid　in　his　wallet；　and　studied　later　that　evening　when　Jane　was　out　at　the　local　branch　of　the　Scottish　Women's　Rural　Institute。　Somehow；　so　much　more　had　e　out　in　the　photograph。　He　could　detect　the　firmness　of　her　nipples　through　the　scanty　blouse　and　bra；　and　the　almost　transparent　underwear　beneath　the　lifted　skirt　showed　an　exciting　dark　V。
　　
　　When　Jane　Coyle　returned　home；　shortly　after　eleven　o'clock；　she　was　mildly　surprised　at　the　eager　man　who　shared　her　bed。　Her　weekly　S。W。R。I；　meeting　had　not　offered　its　usual　pleasantries；　and　a　petty　quarrel　with　Mrs　MacGregor　had　not　improved　the　migraine　which　had　been　hovering　in　the　background　throughout　the　day。　She　had　gently　pushed　her　husband's　hands　from　her　bosom；　and　removed　them　more　roughly　from　her　lower　regions。　Her　obvious　revulsion　had　been　a　turning…point　in　their　already　waning　sexual　relationship。
　　
　　The　following　day　Coyle　had　asked　Anne　if　she　would　care　to　go　out　for　an　evening　meal　with　him。　She　had　accepted　readily　and　innocently；　even　telephoning　her　parents；　who　were　flattered　to　think　that　the　proprietor　of　the　Herald　had　seen　fit　to　reward　their　daughter　thus　for　her　efficiency。　Coyle　had　also　telephoned　his　wife；　and　told　her　he　would　be　home　late　due　to　an　article　he　was　preparing。　Jane　had　not　even　expressed　regret。
　　
　　After　the　meal　they　had　driven　up　to　that　very　same　place　from　which　Coyle　had　taken　the　photographs　less　than　a　week　ago。　The　moorland　was　deserted；　silent　except　for　the　lonely　call　of　a　nesting　curlew。　A　three…quarter　moon　showed　Coyle　everything　he　wanted　to　see；　a　radiantly　lovely　young　girl　in　silhouette　at　his　side。　The　legend　of　Balzur　was　pushed　from　his　mind。
　　
　　He　had　asked　if　he　could　undo　her　pony…tail　and　see　her　with　her　hair　down。　She　had　agreed；　giggling。　Usually　her　parents　let　her　drink　only　at　Hogmanay；　and　then　but　sparingly。　Tonight　she　had　enjoyed　a　sherry　before　the　meal；　wine　with　it；　then　a　couple　of　brandies；　and　she　even　thought　it　was　a　great　joke　when　he　undid　her　dress　and　loosened　her　bra。　Those　nipples　were　as　large　and　firm　as　Coyle　had　expected。
　　
　　She　giggled　again　when　he　felt　up　her　skirt；　and　squeezed　a　couple　of　fingers　between　the　tight…fitting　elastic　of　her　pants。　They　began　kissing…she　clearly　had　never　had　a　tongue　thrust　into　her　mouth　before；　but　she　liked　it。　AH　the　time　he　rubbed　with　his　exploring　fingers；　then　used　his　free　hand　to　guide　her　fingers　on　to　the　hard　bulge　in　his　trousers。　Five　minutes　later　she　was　shuddering　violently；　clutching　at　him；　sobbing…and　then　she　was　sober　again；　and　asking　to　be　taken　home。
　　
　　He　wondered　if　she　would　turn　up　at　the　office　next　morning；　and　his　stomach　muscles　grew　taut　when　at　ten　minutes　past　nine　there　was　still　no　sign　of　her。　At　twenty…five　past　he　sighed　with　relief　as　she　came　trotting　in；　and　later　he　could　have　shouted　his　joy　to　the　whole　world　when；　amidst　blushes　and　stammers；　she　thanked　him　for　a　wonderful　evening。
　　
　　So　he　had　asked　her　out　again。　It　required　more　ingenuity　this　time；　in　order　to　allay　any　suspicions　growing　in　the　minds　of　her　parents。　He　admired　her　for　the　convincing　manner　in　which　she　lied　to　them　over　the　telephone　about　going　to　the　cinema　with　Margaret　from　the　type…setting　department。　Had　Anne's　parents　known　Margaret　they　would　have　been　far　more　concerned；　for　Margaret　was　a　self…confessed　lesbian。
　　
　　Jane　had　not　appeared　the'　least　concerned　that　Bob　Coyle　would　be　home　late。　Recently　he　had　the　impression　that　she　preferred　to　have　the　house　to　herself　in　the　evenings。　If　she　suspected　he　had　taken　a　mistress；　she　did　not　seem　to　care。
　　
　　Coyle　drove　out　to　that　same　place　again；　there　did　not　seem　any　reason　to　go　elsewhere。　By　this　time　surely　Anne　was　fully　aware　of　his　intentions。　The　fact　that　she　lifted　herself　up　so　that　he　could　slide　her　pants　down；　confirmed　this。　She　was　only　too　eager　to　clamber　over　on　to　the　more　spacious　back　seat。
　　
　　That　was　how　it　had　all　begun。　Coyle　drained　the　last　of　his　whisky；　his　gaze　still　fixed　on　the　wallpaper；　only　dimly　aware　that　he　had　an　erection。　He　pondered　over　the　problems　involved　in　divorcing　Jane。　She　certainly　did　not　want　him　sexually　nowadays。
　　
　　Yet　Anne　had　never　once　suggested　a　break…up　of　his　marriage。　His　greatest　fear　was　that　one　day　she　would　find　herself　a　boyfriend；　a　younger　man；　acceptable　to　her　parents；　who　had　a　damned　sight　more　to　offer　her　than　a　married　newspaperman　fast　approaching　middle…age。　Sometimes　he　contemplated　getting　her　pregnant。　He　wondered　what　she　would　do　if　that　happened。　She　would　either　have　to　demand　a　secure　relationship　or　an　abortion。　Maybe　he　ought　to　try　it　and　see。　At　least　he　would　know　where　he　stood。
　　
　　Plutonium　was　to　blame。　He　crushed　the　empty　glass　fiercely　between　his　fingers。　Pluto。　And　Balzur。
　　
　　'Bob！'
　　
　　He　started；　unaware　that　the　office　door　had　opened；　and　Anne　stood　there　smiling；　her　gaze　focused　on　the　protrusion　in　his　trousers。
　　
　　'Sorry；　I　was　miles　away；'　he　swung　his　feet　to　the　floor；　and　she　advanced　on　him；　perching　delicately　on　his　knee；　one　arm　around　his　neck；　the　fingers　of　the　other　starting　to　caress　his　hardness　almost　immediately。
　　
　　'I　trust　you　were　thinking　about　me。'　Her　eyebrows　were　raised　mockingly。
　　
　　'I　was；'　he　admitted　truthfully。　'I　was　just　thinking　about　how　it　all　happened；　how　we　got　together　。　。　。　and　how　you've　been　transformed　from　a　sweet　little　innocent　teenager　into　the　most　beautiful；　sexually　desirable　woman　imaginable。'
　　
　　'And　your　journalistic　training　enables　you　to　put　it　all　so　delightfully　into　words；'　she　continued　to　stroke　him。　'That's　something　which　an　awful　lot　of　women　miss　out　on。　You　haven't　forgotten　we're　going　out　tomorrow　night？'
　　
　　'I　can　hardly　wait。'
　　
　　'Perhaps　your　wife　will　oblige　you　tonight。'
　　
　　'I　shan't　ask　her。'
　　
　　'Oh；　by　the　way；　Winston　Dyne　rang　while　you　were　out。　He　was　a　bit　shirty。　He　didn't　like　your　article　in　last　week's　edition；　the　reference　to　the　Balzur　legend　and　the　link　between　Pluto　and　plutonium。　He　says　you're　playing　on　sensationalism　which　could　have　a　detrimental　psychological　effect　on　the　people　of　this　town。　He　wants　to　see　you；　so　I've　arranged　for　you　to　be　up　there　at　ten　in　the　morning。'
　　
　　'Darling；'　Coyle　craned　his　neck　up　so　that　their　lips　brushed。　'You　are　Britain's　number…one　secretary；　most　definitely。　Twice　over　the　past　few　months　I　have　been　refused　an　interview　with　Dyne。　Barbed　wire；　armed　guards；　and　Christ　knows　what　else；　and　now　I'm　actually　going　inside　the　devil's　stronghold　itself。　And　it　took　you　to　fix　it。'
　　
　　'He's　having　your　pass　delivered　here　later　today；'　she　purred。　'My　Bob's　making　quite　a　name　for　himself；　isn't　he？　Even　the　Boffins　are　sitting　up　and　taking　notice　of　him。'
　　
　　Trying　to　shut　me　up；　you　mean；'　he　laughed；　and　stiffened　as　he　felt　his　zip　being　slowly　pulled　down。　'We'd　better　lock　the　door；'　he　signed。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　3
　　
　　Coyle　experienced　an　acute　sense　of　uneasiness　as　he　eased　his　foot　off　th