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.
“What if we cover this up?” Jules said. “Henkin sends me a finger. But it’s Henkin who is going to get the finger because we can’t use him anymore, we can’t go into Prague, we got twelve million dollars in contracts going down the toilet because we can’t start shooting Napoleon in January and there isn’t any snow in Spain. So if we eliminate the man in Paris, if we silence Miki, there’s still going to be a lot of covering up to do.”
“But you get the source,” Willis said in a quiet voice.
“You guys,” Ben said. “Why don’t you whack Devereaux?”
“We’re not involved in those things,” Willis said. “The agency does not authorize sanctions.”
Jules made a face. He felt impaled by incompetents. “I reminded the President of my support for him. He’s a sly old devil. He said he was a friend and would always be a friend but if there had been illegal… he said ‘shenanigans,’ by someone working for me, then I should be the first to know it.”
He stared at Ben Herguth and Ben felt cold all over, even colder than he usually felt just coming to New York.
“Ben,” Jules said. “You were in charge of production on this. If you look at the matter in the right way, it’s because of you that so much has gone wrong.”
Ben stared at Jules and hoped he wasn’t hearing it.
“Ben, we will engage the best counsel for you,” Jules said.
“I don’t want to do no time,” Ben said. “I’m old and fat and I can’t do time.”
Willis stared at him with professional coldness. The atmosphere of the meeting had changed.
“It is not a question of that,” Jules said. “Someone has to be out front on this. If you have to be out front, then so be it. The FBI will take years trying to put this together and we have lawyers, Ben, dozens and dozens of them. There can be motions and writs and when it comes down to it, it’s going to fall a lot harder on Langley than it will on us.”
Now it was Willis’ turn. He looked at Jules. “I followed orders. I did what I was supposed to do. We’ve been supplying arms to the rebels for years.”
“But you haven’t been doing it with laundered money. And they haven’t been Czech arms.”
“Who can prove that?”
“Miki,” Jules said.
“Ben is going to get Miki and Devereaux,” Willis said.
“Words,” Jules said. “I want to see results, Ben. So you sit here with Mr. Willis and make things happen. Find ways to make things happen between you. I have a board meeting tomorrow at eight sharp and I’m going home. I think you should think about how you’re going to stop Miki from talking and stop Devereaux. Remember, you both have something riding on the results.”
38
“He’s in rooms 503 and 504 at the Hilton in Paris. It’s next to the Eiffel Tower.”
“I know where it is,” Colonel Ready said. He sat in the telephone booth in the lobby of the Edouard VII Hotel on the Avenue de L’Opéra. Late-night traffic pounded outside the lobby doors. He had been waiting in the bar for the call, drinking very large gin and tonics. His eyes were clear and he did not need to write the room numbers down. The bar had been a hangout for a long time for former Legionnaires and those who had been in the Army in Algeria. It’s how Ready had first known the place, a long time ago, when he had been posted in North Africa.
“He reconfirmed with Air France a little while ago.” Ben Herguth’s voice was so clear he might have been in the next booth. “The priority is Miki. Take Miki out first.”
“I understand. How did you trace him?”
“He booked the flight in Brussels and he booked the rooms in Paris at the same time. We ran it down. Rather, we had our friends run it down. You can do anything when they use credit cards. They still think it takes months to trace down credit-card charges overseas. We checked with the hotel and got the room numbers. We checked with Air France and got the reconfirmation. Whatever happened, the administration bought it in Washington and they’re going to let Miki come in. So you hit them. I mean, you fucking hit them.”
“I will,” Ready said. He replaced the phone on the green cradle and got up. He opened the booth and dropped a few francs on the switchboard for the operator. He went back into the bar. It was just after eleven and Paris was beginning to come out of the theaters and go to the clubs for a late supper. He paid his bill and did not finish the last gin and tonic. He pushed through the side door to the narrow street and felt the breeze. It was warm for the end of November, he thought.
He was in time to talk to the night concierge for the fifth floor. The woman was flattered but a little afraid of the policeman with the scar on his face and the strange blue eyes. Yes, the sick man was in Room 503. Yes, he was bandaged here, on his hand.
So Devereaux was in 503.
The police officer smiled at the night concierge. The night manager asked him if there would be any trouble. He said he hoped there would not be but the man was a notorious hotel burglar and it was a pretense to check in with his hand bandaged so that no one would think he could have committed the burglaries. He stole jewels and took them out of the hotel in the bandaged hand. You see, he was in Nice and Antibes in the summer; now he has come to Paris for the season. Ready explained it all in his very good French, flavored with the Parisian accent. The night manager wrung his hands and the concierge was quite excited because nothing exciting ever happened on the fifth floor.
When they were gone, Ready looked up and down the hall. The corridor was carpeted in red and the walls were papered with Paris scenes done in line drawings. It was a very American hotel with bright lights and strong doors.
He had a pass card — the hotel did not use keys — and held it in his left hand. His right was now filled with a pistol of Italian make, fitted with a silencer. The automatic carried nine rounds. He thought of killing and his eyes glittered in the light of the empty corridor.
He pushed the card in the lock and the door swung open. The room was dark. He stepped into the narrow hall that led to the dressing room and bath and held out his pistol. He saw the dim form in bed.
“Devereaux,” he said.
He fired two quick thumps and the body in the bed leaped under the covers and there was no other sound.
He stepped into the room and pulled back the cover.
Miki’s mouth was open in death.
He said something and turned. There was no other sound. He went back to the passage door and removed the pass card. He stepped to the next room and inserted the card in the holder. He pushed the door open slowly with the barrel of the silencer. He went into the room, which was identical to the other but in reverse layout.
He pushed the light switch this time.
The bed was turned down with two mints covered in green paper on the pillows. The room was empty. There was no luggage, nothing. The room was not in use.
39
He called at dawn. It was just past one in the morning in Washington, in the apartment on Massachusetts Avenue at the juncture with Wisconsin.
“Is it safe?” Devereaux said.
“Yes.”
“You have the paper?”
“Signed by the Man. It’s an executive order, they had to put it in legalese, but it’s safe. All your sins are forgiven you,” Hanley said.
“Was there reluctance?”
“Yes. Not by Mrs. Neumann. But the administration was reluctant. They saw, in the end, the way it was.”