珍妮特，一名公司秘书，被丈夫查尔斯利用，将微缩胶卷从公司偷出。她成功地避过了常规保安斯科蒂的检查，但在最后一刻发现额外的保安使得任务变得紧张。尽管内心充满恐惧和愧疚，她还是完成了任务。然而，当她回到家，发现查尔斯的所有物品都不见了，意识到自己只是一个工具。她深感背叛，决定寻求法律援助。
Unit 4B - Double Cross
Double Cross
Roy Ray
Janet pulled the page from her typewriter and looked nervously at her wristwatch. It was almost time. From the inner office came sounds of her boss preparing to leave, the sounds of doors opening and closing. These sounds were well-known to her after eight years as his secretary. Then her boss himself stood at the door, pushing a long arm into his topcoat. She saw how good he looked in his gray suit. It seemed just right against his graying hair.
"Good night, Mr. Mason." She said with a weak smile.
"Good night, Janet. I'll see you Monday morning as usual."
He was quick and friendly. Perhaps, she only imagined the look of concern in his eyes as he walked out.
Janet covered her typewriter. She pulled a lipstick and mirror from her purse. Her hands were cold and shaky when she began to redden her lips and ran a comb through her hair. There would be no time to stop at the women's restroom this evening to do this. She felt a terror slowly rising up inside herself. How could she ever go through with it? But she knew she must. It was too late to retreat. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a knitting basket and a ball of wool with needles sticking out. At the bottom of the basket, lay three microfilms, each in a metal case. She stared at them, feeling guilty.
She felt a nervous shock as the whistle blew. She stuffed the wool back into the basket, seized her purse, and took a last look around the office. Then she walked into the hall filled with secretaries and clerks hurrying home. Doors opened, and more workers walked out into the hall. The click of high-heels made the pounding of Janet's heart seem louder, as she moved along with the crowd. It was like every Friday. There was a noisy excitement in the air. Everyone was in a hurry to leave their desks. The weekend lay ahead.
Janet held her purse in one hand with the netting basket hooked over her wrist. She pushed her way outside into the afternoon sunshine. "Easy, now," she told herself. She stopped to let the crowd flow past her. As she looked ahead down the long ramp leading to the guard's gate, her heart sank. Beside the regular guard, Scotty, there was a guard she never saw before. He was helping Scotty inspect the people moving through the gate. He looked at their passes and badges. He peered into their purses and lunch pails more carefully than Scotty, it seemed.
Janet retreated to the doorway of the building. As a rule, she did not leave so early and had forgotten that an extra guard was stationed at the gate at this hour. She noticed how tightly she was holding her purse. "Be calm," she said to herself, "be natural. Everything depends on getting through that gate." Getting the microfilms had been easy enough with her security clearance but getting them past the guard would be the test.
She remembered how she and her husband Charles had gone over step by step what she was to do. They had prepared for a month. It sounded easy when Charles gave her the plan. He had worked it all out even before he told her what he wanted her to do. It was well known that Janet was still a young bride. It seemed natural, therefore, to use a knitting basket to smuggle the films out of the plant. They chose the night when her old friend Scotty, a senior guard on the force, took his turn at the gate. She had spent the whole past month working on him. She often left the plant late and stopped at the gate to chat with him. She talked about his boy who was in the navy, and she spoke about the little things she was knitting. A few times, she tested him by being chatty, saying nothing about the knitting, and then passing the knitting through without inspection.
The crowd at the gate got thin and the extra guard waved to Scotty as he moved off in the opposite direction. Janet closed her eyes a second and took a deep breath. Now! As naturally as possible, she moved down the ramp. She hoped the smile on her face did not appear as stiff as it felt.
She swallowed twice before she greeted her friend. "Hello, Scotty! How are you?"
She felt a rush of guilt as a grin broke across his face.
"Good evening, Mrs. Heath. You are early tonight."
"Yes, my husband is meeting me, Scotty." She held out her pass with her picture on it, and pulled back her coat so he could see her badge pinned to her dress.
Scotty nodded, "How's the knitting?"
"This was it!" She removed a baby's woolen bootee and held it out for his inspection.
"I've finished this one, but haven't done much on the other." A horn honked. "Oh，there's my husband. I have to run. Good night, Scotty." She wondered if her voice sounded as shaky to him as it did to her own ears. She tossed the bootee back into the basket, and squeezed past the guardhouse. She half ran along the sidewalk, Scotty's good night following her.
She forced herself to remain calm, and slowed down. She walked toward the green car parked at the curb, its motor running. She was shaking so much that she could not turn the handle of the door. Charles reached over to open it for her and she slid into the seat beside him.
He looked at her, "Did you get them?" His voice was tense. He showed the pressure he must have been feeling while sitting there waiting for her to come through the gate.
"Yes," she nodded with a dead feeling.
"Good girl, I knew you could do it." The car moved off into the traffic.
"Did you have any trouble getting the stuff?" Charles was pleasant again and gave her a cigarette. "Just try to relax," he said, "everything is all right. I will drop you off at the apartment as planned, and then deliver the microfilms." He turned on the radio. "Maybe some music will calm you."
At last, the car turned into a quiet street. Charles reached into the knitting basket and took the three shiny disks. He put them inside his coat pocket, and then handed her the basket. He kissed her. "See you later."
She entered her apartment like a person in a fog. She crossed to the wide window and looked out. Her husband's green car was pulling away from the stoplight at the end of the street. She looked up and down the street, and then saw what she was looking for. A black car moved out from the driveway beyond the apartment house and followed her husband. Behind the black car was another one. Inside the car was her boss. "Well," she said to the empty room, "that's that." But she continued standing, looking out into the street, long after the three cars had disappeared from sight.
She still felt numb, dead. She wondered when she would begin to feel something, the pain and guilt of a wife who had betrayed her husband. She thought back over everything that led up to that betrayal, to the night less than six weeks after their marriage. She lay with her head on his arm, and his hand gently stroked her hair. He confessed to her his connections and told her what he expected her to do. She remembered the horror she felt over this terrible request, the shock and disbelief. Her instinct had been to cry out, to rebel. But some inner voice had warned her to be careful. This was something bigger than just herself and her marriage, a marriage now broken into little pieces.
And it had been something bigger than herself which made her tell her boss the facts. His calmness quieted her. She was able later to listen a plan he developed together with the FBI for her to go along with her husband's plans.
It was almost dark outside when she turned from the window and reached for a table lamp. She crossed the room she had shared with Charles Heath. She took off her coat and opened a door to the clothes closet. She reached for a clothes hanger. Suddenly she stopped. One side of the closet was empty. All his clothes were gone. She looked around the room. All his things were gone, as if there never had been such a person as Charles Heath. She was sharply hit by the full meaning of the situation. Charles had never meant to return. She had just been his tool—married her for his purpose. She wondered how many other tools there had been before her. She started to laugh. Then her laughter turned into sobs, great heaving sobs, and she threw herself across the bed. As she gave in to her misery, there was a fleeting thought: "I'll cry tonight. Tomorrow, I'll call my lawyer."
参考译文——圈套
圈套
罗伊·雷
珍妮特从她的打字机里抽出纸，紧张地看了看手表。差不多到时间了。从里面的办公室里传来她的老板准备离开的声音：门一开一关的声音。给他当了 8年的秘书，她很熟悉这些声音。然后她老板站在门前，将一只长手臂插在外套里。她看到他穿着灰色西装显得多么神采奕奕，衣服看来刚好与他的灰色头发相配。
“再见，梅森先生。”她说着，微微笑了笑。
“再见，珍妮特。一如往常，星期一早上见。”
他说得又快又友好。他走出去时眼中带着关切——这也许只是她的想象。
珍妮特盖好打字机，从钱夹里拿出口红和镜子。当她开始涂口红和梳头发时，她的双手冰冷发抖。今晚没时间上洗手间去做这些了。她感到一种恐惧正慢慢地从心底升起。她心存恐惧，怎么能够挺过去？但她知道她必须挺过去。要退缩已经来不及了。她把手伸进抽屉，拉出一个编织筐和一团带着针的毛线。在筐子底下藏着三卷微缩胶卷，都用金属盒子装着。她凝视着胶卷，深感愧疚。
听到哨子声，她紧张地抖了一下。她把毛线塞进筐子，抓起钱夹子，最后环视了一下办公室。之后她走进大厅，厅里满是匆忙回家的秘书和职员。门开了，更多的员工走进大厅。当她随着人群往外走时，高跟鞋的嗒嗒声似乎使她的心跳声显得更大了。与每个星期五一样，空气中弥漫着喧闹和兴奋。每人都在急匆匆地离开办公桌。周末即将来临。
珍妮特手里握着钱夹子，手腕上挎着编织筐。她挤出去，走进了午后的阳光里。“现在，放轻松，”她告诉自己。她停下来让人群从她跟前经过。低头看着前面通往安检门的长坡道，她的心沉了下去。除了平常的保安员斯科蒂之外，还有一个她从没见过的保安员。他正在帮着斯科蒂检查通过门口的人们。他看着人们的通行证和徽章，盯着人们的钱夹子和午餐盒。看起来他比斯科蒂更仔细。
珍妮特退到楼房的门边。她一般不会走这么早，忘了这个时候门口会另外布置一个保安员。她意识到自己紧攥着钱夹，“镇静点，”她对自己说，“自然点。一切都靠通过这扇门了。” 凭着她的安全卡，微缩胶卷很容易就到手了，但把它们带过这扇门将是一个考验。
她想起她和丈夫查尔斯如何一步一步重复练习她要做的事。他们已准备了一个月。当查尔斯告诉她这一计划时，一切听上去很简单。甚至在开口告诉她他想让她做什么之前，他就已经把一切都计划好了。大家都知道珍妮特刚做新娘，所以用编织筐把胶卷从工厂里偷带出来显得是很自然的事。他们选择了她的老朋友斯科蒂——个老资格的保安员——当班的晚上。过去的一整个月她都为此在他身上费心思。她经常很晚离开工厂，并在门口停下来和他聊天。她和他谈他那当海军的儿子，谈她在编织的小东西。有几次，她试着和他闲聊，不提编织的事， 然后未经检查就把编织的东西带了出来。
门口的人越来越少了，另外那个保安员朝斯科蒂挥了挥手往相反的方向走了。珍妮特闭了一秒钟眼，深吸了一口气。好了！她尽量装出一副自然的样子，朝坡道走下去。她希望自己脸上的笑容看起来不像她感到的那样僵硬。
她咽了两口唾沫，然后才向她的老朋友打招呼。“嗨，斯科蒂，你好吗？ ”
看着他脸上绽放的笑容，她突然感到一阵强烈的愧疚之情。
“晚上好,西斯夫人。你今晚比平常早。”
“是的，我丈夫在等着我，斯科蒂。”她拿出贴着她照片的通行证，把大衣往后拉了拉让他能看到别在衣服上的徽章。
斯科蒂点了点头。“东西织得怎么样啦？ ”
“就是这个！ ”她拿出一个婴儿的毛线靴，递过去让他检查。
“这个织完了，另一个还没织多少。”汽车喇叭响了。“哦，那是我丈夫。我得赶紧走了。再见，斯科蒂。”她听到自己的声音在发抖，不知道斯科蒂听出来没有。她把毛线靴塞进筐子，从安检所挤了出去。她半跑着走过人行道，身后响起斯科蒂说的“再见”。
她强迫自己保持镇定，放慢步伐。她走向停在路边的绿色小车，小车的发动机还在运转。她全身抖得太厉害了，连车门的把手都打不开。查尔斯侧过身来给她打开门，她悄悄地坐在他旁边的座位上。
他看着她。“拿到了吗？”他的声音很紧张，显示出他坐在这里等她通过安检门时 一定感觉到了压力。
“是的。”她点了点头，带着怕得要死的神情。
“好样的，我知道你行的。”车驶入正道。
“拿东西时碰到什么麻烦了吗？ ”查尔斯又变得高兴起来，递给她一支香烟。“尽量放松，” 他说，“一切正常。按照计划，我送你到住所下车，然后我去送胶卷。”他将收音机打开，“或许放些音乐能够让你平静下来。”
最后车开到一条僻静的街上。查尔斯把手伸进编织筐拿出三个闪亮的碟。他把碟放进大衣口袋，然后把编织筐递给她。他吻了吻她，说：“待会儿见。”
她回到公寓，脑子里一团糟。她穿过房间走到大窗子前朝外看。她丈夫的绿色小车正驶离街道尽头的交通指示灯。她上下巡视街头，然后看到了自己在寻找的东西。一辆黑色的小车从公寓楼外的车道开了出来，尾随着她丈夫。黑色的车后还有一辆车，里面坐着她的老板。“好了，”她对着空空的房间说，“就这样了。”但她继续站着，凝视着街头，那三辆车早已消失不见了。
她还是觉得死一般的麻木。她不知道自己什么时候才会恢复感觉，感觉到一个妻子背叛她丈夫的痛苦和愧疚。”她回忆着那些导致这个背叛的点点滴滴，想起结婚不到6个星期的一个晚上。她躺着，头枕在他的手臂上，他的手温柔地抚弄着她的头发。他向她坦白了他的背景，并告诉她他期望她做些什么。她还记得听到那个可怕的请求时她的恐惧、震惊和难以置信。她本能地想大哭、抗议，但某个内在的声音警告她要谨慎从事。这件事比她本人、比她的婚姻要重要得多，而她的婚姻现在已支离破碎。
正是因为这事要比她本人更重要，她才告诉了她的老板。老板的镇静使她也平静了下来。她后来还听取了她老板和联邦调查局共同策划的方案：她支持她丈夫的计划。
外面天几乎黑了，她从窗口转过身去找台灯。她走过她和查尔斯·西斯合住的房间。她脱下外套，打开衣柜的一扇门，想取一个衣架。突然她停了下来。衣柜有一边是空的。他所有的衣服都不见了。她环视着房间，他所有的东西都不见了，好像查尔斯·西斯这个人从来就未存在过。眼前的一切使她恍然大悟。查尔斯根本没打算再回来。她只是他的工具——他是出于他的需要才和她结婚的。她不知道在她之前还有多少别的工具。她开始大笑起来。随后这笑变成了呜咽，一阵一阵痛苦的呜咽，她扑在床上。悲痛不已的她脑子里闪过一个想法我今晚要痛哭一场。明天，我要找我的律师。”
Key Words:
wool [wul]
n. 羊毛，毛线，毛织品
terror ['terə]
n. 恐怖，惊骇，令人惧怕或讨厌的人或事物
drawer ['drɔ:ə]
n. 抽屉，拖曳者，制图员，开票人
retreat [ri'tri:t]
n. 休息寓所，撤退，隐居
v. 撤退，向后倾
guilty ['gilti]
adj. 有罪的，内疚的
typewriter ['taip.raitə]
n. 打字机，打字员
mason ['meisn]
n. 泥瓦匠 Mason: 共济会会员
wrist [rist]
n. 手腕，护腕
whistle ['wisl]
n. 口哨，汽笛，厂笛，啸啸声，用于召唤或发布命令的哨声
inspect [in'spekt]
vt. 调查，检阅
vi. 调查
security [si'kju:riti]
n. 安全，防护措施，保证，抵押，债券，证券
doorway ['dɔ:wei]
n. 门口
guilt [gilt]
n. 罪行，内疚
badge [bædʒ]
n. 徽章，标记，正章，象征
vt. 授给 .
spoke [spəuk]
v. 说，说话，演说
stiff [stif]
adj. 硬的，僵直的，生硬的，拘谨的，不灵活的
senior ['si:njə]
adj. 年长的，高级的，资深的，地位较高的
grin [grin]
v. 露齿而笑，(以咧嘴笑来)表示
n. 露齿
inspection [in'spekʃən]
n. 检查，视察
haven ['heivn]
n. 港口，避难所，安息所 v. 安置 ... 于港中，
horn [hɔ:n]
n. 动物角，喇叭，触角，角状物，力量源泉
handle ['hændl]
n. 柄，把手
v. 买卖，处理，操作，驾驭
curb [kə:b]
n. 抑制，勒马绳，边石，路缘
vt. 抑制，
sidewalk ['said.wɔ:k]
n. 人行道
=pavement（英）
pressure ['preʃə]
n. 压力，压强，压迫
disbelief [.disbi'li:f]
n. 不相信，怀疑
instinct ['instiŋkt]
adj. 充满的
n. 本能，天性，直觉
request [ri'kwest]
n. 要求，请求
vt. 请求，要求
guilt [gilt]
n. 罪行，内疚
betrayal [bi'treiəl]
n. 背叛，暴露
numb [nʌm]
adj. 麻木的，失去知觉的，无动于衷的
rebel ['rebəl]
n. 叛徒，起义者，反叛者
fleeting ['fli:tiŋ]
adj. 飞逝的(疾驰的，短暂的，急走的)
calmness
n. 平静，安宁；冷静，镇静
misery ['mizəri]
n. 痛苦，悲惨的境遇，苦难
hanger ['hæŋə]
n. 挂钩，衣架，悬挂物
参考资料：
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