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.
“Swell,” Devereaux said.
“Can you take the gun—”
“Does Jules call you up a lot? Asking you to change stories, drop stories, add stories?”
“He does not,” Al Buck said. “He’s a busy man. He runs the network, he’s got production to run, he’s always between Los Angeles and New York, he doesn’t have time.”
“But he made time,” Devereaux said, not to Al Buck.
“What is this about?”
“Who was the man who tried to kill Kay Davis after you fired her?”
“We didn’t fire her. It was a misunderstanding.” And he felt the barrel push into his cheek. “I don’t know who he was, swear to God, no one does, the police don’t. I offered a reward. The station offered a reward, I mean. We stand behind Kay a thousand percent.”
“Swell,” Devereaux said.
“Who are you?”
“Someone interested in weeping statues,” he said. “When did Jules call you? The second time?”
“It was late. Late at night. Real late. I don’t know how late.”
“What did he say?”
“I told you. He said he got the message from me and he felt terrible about Kay and he said to get her back.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“How do I remember what anyone said exactly two weeks ago?”
“What did he say?”
“He said he got the message. He said to get Kay back.”
“What did he say about the statue or about the story?”
Al Buck blinked. He stared at the driver.
“Now, that’s funny. I forgot about that.”
“About what?”
“He said not to worry about the story.”
“He said that?”
“He said it’s silly making a fuss over something like that. Something about let it run, let it die a natural death.”
“Let it die?”
“He said the story would take care of itself.”
“What did that mean?”
“He was saying maybe we shouldn’t get so excited after all.”
Devereaux waited and stared at the sweating man and then removed the pistol from his cheek. Al Buck rubbed his cheek with his left hand. He kept his eyes on the driver.
“All right, Al,” Devereaux said. “You did good.”
“What is this about?”
“You don’t really want to know, do you?”
“No,” he said.
“We’ve been at this about thirty minutes. You figure you can explain thirty minutes at the office?”
“Yes,” Al Buck said. He shivered. It wasn’t going to go bad. He was going to stay alive.
“I’ll drop you off,” Devereaux said. “You tell them what you want. But you don’t mess with Kay Davis ever again. Ever. In fact, the best thing would be to get her promoted out of Chicago to New York. Do you think that would be the best thing?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That would be the best thing. And the other best thing would be not to talk about this. You call up your friend Jules and Jules will wonder about you. He’ll wonder if you are a person who should stay alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“You get in your office, you shut the door and sit down and turn off the television set and you just think. Think about someone who is up here talking to someone who is down here and telling him to do a little thing that would make the network look like shit if it came out. You think about that and think about some gorilla coming around to Kay Davis’ apartment and trying to kill her. And you think about Jules calling you up in the middle of the night and telling you to retract the thing he told you to do less than eight hours before. Then, if you can connect the dots, Al, you think what it would mean to you if you called up Jules and said you got a visit from a man with a gun who wants to know about Kay Davis and Al Buck and good old Jules. Then you think of Jules connecting the dots and maybe deciding that you think too much. Do you get it, Al?”
Al Buck wasn’t dumb. He was merciless and he had been in television a long time and he did things he didn’t like to do, but he wasn’t dumb. He saw it. His eyes got big and his face went white.
Devereaux saw that he saw it. And it would be all right for Al because he wouldn’t tell anyone anything.
Devereaux put the pistol on the dash and almost sighed.
It would be all right.
And he wouldn’t have to kill Al Buck after all.
29
They sat in the old tavern on the great square in Bruges in the afternoon. The tavern had tall, mournful windows and no bar, except a serving counter where the large women made their orders and carried them to the long, wooden tables. The walls were the color of spoiled mustard and there was a dampness in the place that reeked of age. Mason and Ready ate large sandwiches made on rough local bread and drank liters of Jupiler beer. The beer was cold and the cheese sandwiches were tart with strong mustard. The two men did not talk to each other because they were both waiting.
Cernan came into the tavern alone.
It was just after four and the rain had stopped. The square was full of shoppers again. There were restaurants and shops on two sides of the square. The third side was occupied by an ancient city hall and the fourth side was dominated by the ancient battlements and the great clock tower. Because this was Flemish Belgium and not French Belgium, the clock worked, even though it was centuries old.
Cernan sat down in the wooden chair across from them. His face was flat and his eyes looked sewn on. “Who is this one?”
“An American agent,” Ready said. “I had no choice.” He smiled. “He wants to know what happened to his friend.”
“It is of no business to him,” said Cernan. The words were flat, careful, polished to serve the greatest amount of meaning with the fewest sounds.
“It is my business that you have not returned to Prague,” Ready said.
“No. You are in a mistake,” Cernan said. “You have no more business with me.”
“But you came.”
“I came,” Cernan agreed.
Colonel Ready stared at him. “That is extraordinary enough for me to ask you why.”
“I will ask: Why do you signal me?”
“To show Mr. Mason that you have Devereaux and the girl. You have the girl, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Cernan said.
“Where?” Mason said.
They ignored him. They glanced at him because he had made a sound but they ignored him. Ready was smiling.
Cernan said, “What do you want?”
“I want to buy her.”
Cernan blinked. It was the only sign he made. He said, “Why do you want her?”
“That is my business. I can offer a fair price.”
“No. Not at the moment. Perhaps never.”
“But you came here.”
“I am always curious,” Cernan said.
“You have her, though she could not have tracked you down. I was on her trail, Cernan, I was this far behind her. Give me a day more and I would have had her. How did you get her, Cernan? You weren’t linked to the train, so you must’ve lured her to you.”
Then Ready grinned because he understood: “She thought it was me. She would do that, she was good enough for that. Even brave enough.”
Cernan nodded his head. His brown eyes glittered again in the soft Flemish light, which was diffused and yellowed and reminiscent of a dim Vermeer painting. Mason sat apart from them and listened. He held the pistol in his coat pocket with the safety off.