The Infant of Prague
- Автор: Granger Bill
- Серия: November Man #8
- Год: 1987
- Язык: французский
- Год: Warner
- ISBN: 0446347809
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «The Infant of Prague». Краткое содержание книги:
For in a humble Chicago parish church, the sacred statue of the Infant of Prague is found weeping real tears. A visiting Czech child star actress, transfigured by the wondrous event, declares, on live television, her intent to remain in American in the name of Christ and freedom.
Only an operative as cynical and seasoned as the November Man can sense the sinister link between two dramatic, yet apparently unrelated defections. A miracle has plunged him into a vast global adventure. And it will take a miracle to get him through it alive.
The defection of a highly visible Czech sparks an international crisis, and the November Man is caught in the middle.
“You are killing me,” Philip said.
“That’s not the answer, Philip,” Mason said. He broke the bottle of Stella Artois beer across the edge of the bar and grabbed Philip by his hair. He held the jagged edge of the bottle to his face.
“I know how to contact him,” Philip said.
“Why did you sell out the train?”
“Who are you?”
“The last person in the world you ever wanted to see, Philip. Maybe the last person you ever will see. How old are you, Philip?”
“Thirty.”
“That’s awfully young, Philip.”
“There was a lot of money. We only supply the driver. And the car. We picked a driver. All he wanted to know was the name of the driver.”
“He got to the driver. You picked out the driver for him. When you picked the wrong driver, you wrecked the train. When you wrecked the train, we lost a man. When we lose a man, we get upset. You upset us, Philip. Terribly. So what can you say to me to stop me?”
“My God, my God,” Philip said.
“No. That won’t do it.”
He pushed the jagged edge into Philip’s right cheek. Philip didn’t even feel the pain for a moment, until he saw the blood on the edge of the bottle. He put his hand on his cheek and felt the pain and screamed in a very high-pitched voice. He screamed and screamed and then Mason said, “Shut up. The next time, I cut your eye out. So just shut up. I want you to concentrate.”
“My God, my God.”
Mason lifted the bottle. Philip felt the blood on his palm. He said, “I’ll tell you everything, everything.”
“I know,” Mason said. He put the bottle down on the wide oak bar. He waited.
“Colonel Ready. Except he said his name was Driver. He had all kinds of names. That woman that came here to ask about him called him that. He was interested in her.”
“Yes. I know. I know all about it. He killed her. He was after her, he must have followed her to Bruges.” He paused, staring at the bleeding man. “She’s dead. We lost a man and we lost her, so someone has to pay for the damages. We have to reduce our losses.”
“I called him. Jans called him. You want Jans.”
“I’ll take care of Jans, Philip. I want you now. Does it hurt, Philip?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now tell me about Colonel Ready and how you contacted him.”
He told him about the contact. There was a dead letter drop at the stamp shop near the statue of the Mannekin-Pis. You dropped the message one day in such a way and you got a reply the next day. In this case, he had got Colonel Ready in person at Club Tres. He was a mercenary contractor and he had a lot of money. He gave some of it to Philip and Jans. After all, they weren’t involved in anything. They just provided the station house for the trains and the driver and the car.
“We were not involved,” Philip said. His voice was a moan. The blood was dried on his cheek but the scar would be very bad.
“You were involved,” Mason said. He stared at Philip. “You fucked with the United States government, Philip.” He said the verb softly, almost with a child’s wonder. His voice was even more soft than it had been at the beginning. “But you might survive yet if you do everything right. I want you to get hold of Colonel Ready. I want you to call Jans and tell him to drop a message this morning and then to come over here. I want you to tell Jans that you got visited by a man who was the conductor of that train. The man in black. The man you set up.”
“But Mr. Driver killed him.”
“No. He did worse than that. I think he did worse than that. I think I know what Mr. Driver did and I think the man in black is alive but wishing he wasn’t alive. So if I figured it right, then Mr. Driver or Colonel Ready is going to wonder what the hell is going on with you. So I figure he’ll come over to talk to you about it.”
“He’s a bad man.”
“Yes, Philip. But better the devil you know. I’m here, Philip, and I just beat you up a little bit. Just a little body slamming. I can beat you up for a long time. I wasn’t in Nam or anything like that, but I did grow up on streets. You learn a lot of things. So I can beat you up until everything hurts and you piss blood and all that stuff and you still won’t be dead. I’m going to get Colonel Ready and kill him. And maybe I won’t kill you and Jans because, like you said, you were not involved. I make myself clear to you, Philip?”
Philip stared at the calm-eyed madman and nodded. When he found his voice, he dialed the black telephone behind the bar. It rang for a long time because Jans was sleeping. Mason poured himself another beer and sat on the stool at the American-style bar and waited while Philip talked to Jans.
24
The driver was a sandy-haired kid who chewed gum. Mr. Willis was sweating by the time he stepped to the curb at Los Angeles International Airport. The sun was pale above the smog in the bowl of the city and Willis was dressed for November in Chicago. He let the kid open the back door of the stretch Cadillac and got inside. There was a television set. He turned it on and then off, just to see if it worked. There was a glass divider between the driver and the big rear compartment.
The kid rolled the divider down. The radio was full of jungle sounds.
“Roll the divider up,” Willis said.
The kid said, “No sweat.” He pushed the button that sealed the rear compartment. He crawled through the lanes that led away from the airport on the ocean and drove north toward the city.
Los Angeles had charm but you had to look for it. The center city was full of big buildings without character or pattern. There still were no pedestrians and some of the streets had not even bothered with sidewalks. All the cars seemed exotic and Willis stared out his side window at the cars and the drivers. The limousine was cool and Willis felt dry and tired. The address was a stunted, whitewashed two-story building on Sunset, below the hills. He told the kid to wait and crossed to the entrance and went up the carpeted cement stairs to the second floor. Suite 201 was right off the stairs. He went through the door and the girl at the reception desk wore a white silk blouse that was open enough for Willis to stare at. He said his name. The girl went to a door and opened it. Willis saw a plastic penis sitting on the floor of the second office. A plastic penis, he thought. He filed the image.
The big man was smoking a big cigar and wore a camel’s-hair sport coat that made him look even bigger than he was.
He looked at Willis and didn’t say a thing. Willis nodded toward the door. Ben Herguth shrugged and followed him into the corridor and down the stairs. They both had an aversion to talking in a place where walls might have ears.
The limousine roared down Sunset toward the ocean. The destination was a fish restaurant in Beverly Hills, off Rodeo, but the driver was instructed to go by way of the beach and take his time making a big circle through Santa Monica and Westwood.
“We want to know about her.” Willis made his voice flat, almost uninterested.
“Her? Who her?”
“Cute,” Willis said.
“Hey, fuck you, G-man. You fuck this up from Jump Street, so you got nothing to say about where it’s going.”
Willis said, “You know how much trouble you can be in?”
“Fuck you, G-man. I’m shitting in my boots, you got me so scared.”
Willis tried it a different way. “Look. We were caught flat-footed by Miki. When Miki pulled a defect. We don’t know where the hell he is, we don’t even know if he’s alive.”
“He’s alive,” Herguth said. He liked the look of surprise. “Temporarily.”
“We need smooth relations,” Willis said. “First that little girl pulls a religious defection in Chicago. We got heat from the Czech ambassador, the White House got a personal note from the Czech President. It would be just our luck that Prague closes its borders for a few months. That’d be just what we need.”