纸牌屋（House of Cards 英文版）

　　It was deliberately altered to ensure that the false address in Paddington could be tied in  directly to Charles Collingridge. But anyone could have opened that accommodation address. I don't  think Charles Collingridge ever went anywhere near Paddington. Somebody else did it in his name -  somebody who was trying to frame him!'

　　Preston was listening intently now.

　　'I went to Paddington myself this morning. I opened up an accommodation address at the same  tobacconist shop in an entirely fictional name. I then got a taxi to Seven Sisters

　　Road and the Union Bank of Turkey, where I opened up an account in the same fictional name - not  with ?50,000 but with just ?100. The whole thing took-less than three hours from start to finish.  So I can now start ordering pornographic magazines, paid for out of the newbank account and  delivered to the Paddington address, which could do a lot of damage to the reputation of one  completely innocent politician'

　　'Er, who?' asked Preston, still having difficulty catching up.

　　She laughed and threw down a bank book and the tobacconist's receipt onto the editor's desk. He  looked at them eagerly.

　　The Leader of the Opposition!' he shouted in alarm. 'What the hell have you done?'

　　'Nothing,' she said with a smile suggesting victory. 'Except to show that Charles Collingridge was  almost certainly framed; that he probably never went near the tobacconist shop or the Union Bank  of Turkey, and therefore that he could not have bought those shares'

　　Preston was holding the documents at arm's length as if they might catch fire.

　　'Which means that Henry Collingridge did not tell his brother about Renox Chemicals...' Her  inflexion indicated that there was more.

　　'And? And?' Preston demanded.

　　'He didn't have to resign.'

　　Preston sagged back in his chair. The beads of perspiration had begun to trickle down his brow,  plastering his hair to his forehead. He was looking exceedingly uncomfortable. He felt as if he  were being torn in two. With one eye he could see the makings of a superb story, which, when  promoted vigorously by his advertising agency, could bring with it the substantial boost in  circulation he was finding so elusive. Whether the story was accurate or not hardly bothered him;  the lawyers could ensure that it libelled no one and it would make a splendid read.

　　With his other eye, however, he could discern the enormous impact that such a story would make on  the leadership race itself, the uncontrollable shockwaves which would stretch out and swamp  various innocent bystanders-possibly including himself. And Landless had just told him on the  telephone that he had other fish to fry. He brushed back the lick of hair which was stuck clammily  above his glasses, but it did not seem to help his vision. He could not focus on which decision  would be the right one to take, the one which would be acceptable to Landless. He had been  instructed that all major pieces affecting the leadership race were to be cleared with Landless  before publication, and he had feared being confronted with an unexpected decision like this. He  needed to play for time.

　　'Mattie, I scarcely know what to say. You've obviously been very ... busy.' His mind was charging  through his Thesaurus of flannel, words which were meaningless and noncommittal but which left  their audience with an appropriately warm feeling of encouragement. It was a well thumbed volume.  But then it hit him, and the book closed shut with a snap.

　　'You've illustrated very well that it might have been someone else who was charging round London  opening accounts in Collingridge's name, but you haven't proved that it wasn't Collingridge  himself. Surely that is the easiest explanation to accept?'

　　'But the computer file, Grev. It was tampered with. And that wouldn't have happened if Charles  Collingridge were guilty.'

　　Haven't you considered the possibility that the computer file was altered, not to mcrirninate  Collingridge, but by Collingridge or one of his friends to offer him an alibi, to muddy the waters  after he had been found out? For all we know it was not the distribution file but the accounts  file which was altered, possibly only minutes before you saw it, just to throw you off the trail'

　　'But only a handful of people have access to the accounts file' Mattie protested with considerable  vigour. 'And how could Charles Collingridge have done that? He's been drying out in a treatment  centre.' 'But his brother?'