Judas Country
- Автор: Лайл Гэвин
- Язык: чешский
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Judas Country». Краткое содержание книги:
Take a clean-cut middle-aged pilot--well, maybe he's a little further into the penumbra of the law that he wants you to think; charter him into Cyprus with a planeload of soidisant champagne that suddenly turns into far more lethal cargo; mix him up with a bankrupt hotel chain and a canny old smuggler of antiquities, and you have only the opening flourishes of this suave fasten-your-seatbelt thriller.
When Roy Case lands in Nicosia, he wants only to greet his partner, Ken Cavitt, fresh from a smuggling rap in a grim Israeli jail, and deliver to Beirut the twelve case of Kroeger Royale '66 for a gala hotel opening. Instead he is immediately plucked up and dangled over a perfect microcosm of the entire Eastern Mediterranean caldron. A small arsenal for terrorist, bankruptcy, blackmail, murder, espionage, Greco-Turkish and Arab-Israeli mayhem, and incongruously, the long-lost crusader sword of Richard Coeur de Lion all add deadly nightshade seasoning. Also playing key roles are the enigmatic daughter of a sinister German antiquarian and a striving and attractive museum scout for New York.
He walked out.
Eleanor stared after him. 'What did Isay?'
'Israel – or almost.' I swallowed my own drink. "That's the one place he can't go back to. When they let him out of jail they deported him.' I stood up. 'We'll be round here about eight. Be packed if you're coming.'
It was a five-minute walk to our hotel, but we did it in ten to make sure nobody was following. The night clerk stopped picking his teeth long enough to hand over our key and, as an afterthought, a message:Ring Uthman Jehangir not after 2 am. It gave the number.
'Who in hell's he?' Ken asked.
'Met him in Nicosia. He wanted to buy some champagne off me.'
'Ah. D'you think…?'
I shrugged, looked at my watch: only half past midnight. 'I suppose I'd better ring him, since he knows we're in town.' Probably he'd asked for me in Nicosia and then followed on the evening flight. He could have found out our hotel from the control tower: you always let them know where you're staying.
But now I certainly hadn't got the twenty-four hours' grace I was hoping for.
Ken said: 'I'll go on up and kill a few spiders,' and went. There weren't any room phones so I made the call from the desk, with the clerk no more than a yard away and his breath a lot closer.
Jehangir himself answered.
I said: 'It's Roy Case: you left a message…'
'Of course! Delighted to hear from you. Very glad you could get to Beirut.'
'It was a last-minute decision. I got a sort of charter…'
'Fine. But now we can get down to business. Why don't we meet at the races tomorrow afternoon? You know the track?'
'Yes, sure…' I didn't want to meet Jehangir, not in his own town, but we'd made enough enemies for one night. 'Okay, then. About two-thirty?'
'Just fine. Until then.'
I rang off and the clerk carefully wrote the item down on our bill.
I was careful to say 'It's me,' before I went into the room; sure enough Ken had the gun half pointed. He was stripped to his shorts – once gaudy red-and-yellow stripes, now faded and torn – and his body looked bony and pale.
'What was all that about? ' he asked.
'Business. I said we'd meet him at the races tomorrow afternoon.' I locked the door behind me.
'What?'
'Just keeping him happy. I can forget.' I began to undress.
It was a small room, maybe ten by eight, but even then the two beds weren't big enough to crowd it. The Castle rooms had been old-fashioned and worn; this place had started cheap and nasty and worked its way down. Ken climbed in between the patched grey sheets that felt like damp sandpaper and sighted the Smith at the ceiling light.
I said: 'There's less noisy ways. Are you going to sleep with that bloody thing?'
'Probably.'
'Couldn't you borrow the clerk's teddy-bear? – at least it wouldn't blow my head off when you have a bad dream.' I climbed into my own bed. 'Are you going to hang on to it?'
'I don't take off my coat in the rain. Aren't you keeping the Colt?'
I shook my head. 'I've got enough problems in this town without getting caught with a gun, too. Anyway, nobody wants us dead.'
He propped himself up on one elbow. 'Your funeral. But I tell you what, give me those three-eight rounds.'
So I fished the Colt out of my jacket and shook out the cartridges. A.38 will fit a magnum.357 – it's identical calibre, really – but not vice versa: they make the magnum rounds too long to fit into, and probably blow up, an ordinary.38.1 passed them over and he stuffed them into the big Smith.
Actually, it wasn't a bad idea. Now, with a heavy gun and a – relatively – light cartridge he'd be a lot more accurate for not much loss of power and far less kick.
I lay back again. 'Happy now? Glass of water? Bedtime story?'
'Stuff it.'
I turned off the light. 'If you dream anything good, ask if she's got a sister."
He dreamed, all right, but not that. I woke as his feet thumped on the floor, and snapped on the lamp. He was sitting on the bed, head down almost on his knees and his whole body covered in sweat as if it had rained on him. His right hand was locked, white-knuckled, around the gun.
He was swearing to himself, just a long rhythmic mumbling curse.
I said gently: 'You were back inside?'
He lifted his head slightly, wiped the hair back off his forehead. 'I was back. Shit. I'm not going back. I'm just not going to go.'
'Was it bad in there?'
'Ahhh… not like some you hear about. They didn't treat us like animals, just like things. We just had to be there, to be counted at the stock-taking. You knew you could neverdecide anything; you'd wake up in the night and think "Tomorrow I'll-" and then remember you couldn't. It was the nights -and the walls. I'm not going back to that.'
He waved the pistol in a gentle, meaningless gesture. But it was something he could control, could use to control events. Maybe sleeping with it made a sort of sense, after all.
Then he asked: 'We don't have a bottle, do we?'
'Sorry.' I wished I'd thought of it, even at Beirut prices for Scotch.
Til be all right.' He stood up shakily, found a rag of hotel towel and wiped the sweat off. Then lay down, looking at the ceiling.
When he spoke, his voice was normal again. 'It's funny -when you come out you want to shack up in some place like the Ledra or a Hilton. But you know something? – even this bed's too soft for me. Bloody silly.'
After a pause, he added: 'Mind, in every other way I've had enough of crummy joints like this.'
'We've stayed in worse as often as better.'
'We were younger. There was still time for the good times to come.'
'Stop feeling your age; you'll make it fall off. That's just three-in-the-morning talk.'
'Maybe.' He rolled over and shoved the gun back under the pillow. 'Sorry, Roy. I'm okay.'
Perhaps. Anyway, he didn't wake me again.
16
The morning was clear, blue and calm, though that meant a sea breeze later if it stayed sunny. It's the best time of day in the Middle East, before the dust and smells and tempers have begun to rise. You feel even a taxi would only run you down by accident.
We checked out and, with only hand baggage, walked around to the St George, losing my Colt in a dustbin on the way. The doorman gave us a friendly salute and we went straight on up to the third floor. The girls had rooms looking inland, back over the front door, and in shade at that hour, so they were breakfasting on Eleanor's balcony.
She'd thought to order four cups and an extra pot of coffee, which did a lot for Ken's mood. I'd matched him drink for drink the day before and it had been well spread out, but I think he'd woken witha. touch of the little green men. But at least the 3 ajn. mood had passed.
That's real New World hospitality,' he said cheerfully, pouring us both cups. 'Who but an American would have thought of it?'
'A Viennese,' Mitzi said coolly. She was slumped in a wicker chair wearing a frilly nylon house-coat that wasn't quite transparent but gave me the idea she was fairly well dressed underneath it.
Which was fine; I didn't want to hang around longer than we had to.
'Have you two ever visited the States?' Eleanor asked.
'Sure,' Ken said. 'We did the whole works, when we were in the RAF. We saw Offutt Air Force Base, and Scott Air Force Base, and Edwards Air Force Base, and Maxwell Air Force Base, and what was that place in Alaska? and the Lockheed plant in Georgia…'
'And the Body Shop on Sunset Boulevard,' I added.
That's right, they left the cage door open that night and we were off before they could rouse the National Guard. We've been around, kid, we've seen the whole deal.'
Eleanor grinned. 'You should write a book, like everybody else.'
'See volume four of my memoirs.'
Mitzi gave a little sideways smile and said: 'I did not see a man get drunk on coffee before.'
I held up my wrist and stared obviously at the watch. The countdown has started. Who's coming?'