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.
He did not think to tell Anna what Henkin could do to him.
Gorkeho, that honest one-legged soldier who had guided him through the thickets of the political life, was lost and Cernan might as well end up at his side, even in prison. But at least, for one moment, Anna would know there was a real father and that he loved her and if he was taken by the police and killed, well, then it was not just a dream but a real father who had died.
“And what did you see?”
“The Child,” she had said in the embassy. “He wept for me.”
“I do not think I could see that. I mean, you have seen it and I believe you, but I do not think I could have seen such a miracle.”
“But, Father, you must believe what you see,” she had said. “I saw the tears of Christ.”
“Perhaps it was a trick of the Americans.”
“And Stephanie. You would have seen that Stephanie did not make tricks. She loved me, Father.”
“I am glad.”
“I saw tears,” Anna had said in the embassy.
All right, Cernan thought. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps, in time, miracles become too cynical for belief. What had he ever believed except in the perfectability of man in the State? An ideal, Gorkeho would have said and smiled. But where was Gorkeho now and when would Cernan join him?
“I do not say I love you, Father, because it is so soon since I’ve met you,” Anna said. “Will you give me time?”
His heart broke as they bumped through the clouds. The earth came up to them.
The miracle came when they opened the door and he went to the stairs and looked down at the man waiting at the bottom of the ramp. Then he understood the possibility of things.
It was Gorkeho.
He was smiling.
40
They were all going to Acorn on Oak Street after the ten-o’clock local news. She was just a little late because she had to scrub off the makeup or she would have an allergic reaction in the morning.
Kay Davis walked out of the station shortly after eleven and there were no cabs and it didn’t matter. Acorn bar was only a few blocks west. She started down the street, heels click-clacking on the pavement. The night was bright with the red city sky and the street lamps and the doormen were in their cubbyholes in the lobbies of all the high-rise condominiums.
Al Buck was being transferred to Adelaide. That was in Australia. He had gotten a raise, of course, and the kids were keen on meeting Crocodile Dundee or someone very like him. That’s the face Al Buck put on it.
It was hilarious. There were notes on the newsroom bulletin board, the one management pretended not to read. No one knew very much about Australia but everyone tried to make kangaroo jokes.
Kay smiled at that. She walked along in the normal, aggressive urban manner, her head driving her body forward, her steps very businesslike. It was a grand illusion and every woman in every city knows it.
The man passed her and grabbed her purse.
She turned, held on.
And the purse-snatcher showed his long, thin knife and slashed once and twice and Kay Davis felt first warmth and then blood. Blood on her face. She held the strap of the purse and touched her face and there wasn’t any pain. She stared at his face but he had let go of the purse, he was running up the street.
There was no pain.
She thought of herself as she had seen herself thousands of times, the pretty girl on television in Des Moines and Chicago and, next step up, the Big Apple. Pretty Kay Davis.
Felt the warmth of her own blood on her face.
And began to scream.
“That’s done,” Herguth said to Jules Bergen.
“My work is not as cut and dried.” It was one in the morning and they were at the network apartment on West Fifty-Sixth Street. The room was done in vague Oriental colors and there was a samurai warrior’s set of swords on a wall in an inner room that might have been a den. Ben’s girl was in bed in the next room, sleeping off the booze and pills.
“Well, you got the patience.”
“I have whatever has to be had,” Jules Bergen said. He stared out at New York and began to hum the Sinatra song very softly. It kept his spirits up. The city was cranky in the early morning, squawking to itself.
“You did good, Ben,” Jules said.
That made Ben feel better. If Julie thought it was good, then it was. Like coming to him with an idea for a show: If Julie said something would work, then it would work, never mind if it bombed in the ratings. It would still be a go because Julie said so.
“Cunt’ll never work in television again with a face like chopped meat,” Herguth said. “I liked that. I liked that part of it.”
“Did you ever consider you’re a sadist?”
“Everyone on top is a sadist.” Herguth smiled. “It’s part of the perks, like getting keys to the gold washroom.”
Jules said, “I didn’t even give Key Davis a second thought the other night.”
“I know that, Julie, I know that but I had my pride. I told you a thing was gonna be taken care of and it wasn’t and that made me feel bad.”
“Henkin was arrested last night in Prague.”
“And Miki was shot dead in Paris.” Ben Herguth smiled. “My man didn’t get the G-man, but he got Miki and that means we are halfway home free. No Miki, no snitching.”
“But we’re still out all that money in contracts, set design, scripts—”
“I’m working on that, too, Julie,” Ben said. He was full of himself, he felt good, better than he had in years. “Prague is out for now, I appreciate that, but we’re already starting to make progress. I been on the phone all afternoon. How does this grab you?”
Jules waited. Ben gurgled like a kid.
“Belgrade,” Ben said like a present.
“Belgrade?”
“Yugoslavia. Belgrade looks exactly like Moscow used to look when they burned it down. Further, my man says we can get all the Yugoslav Army extras we need. And the cost gets down as low as Prague, maybe even lower.”
“Belgrade,” Jules repeated.
“Even snow isn’t a problem, they already got six inches of snow there,” Ben said. “They said they can handle the whole cast the month of January as long as we get out when the party congress starts February third.”
Belgrade didn’t make any impression on Jules. He closed his eyes and tried to think of it but it was no good. Jules had never seen the city, never set foot in Yugoslavia. He opened his eyes and Ben was grinning at him. Ben was making up for a lot of mistakes. Miki was whacked, he had gotten rid of Kay Davis in Chicago.… Jules grinned back.
“Why the hell not?” Jules said.
41
The scandal, if that is what it was, broke in little waves.
Miki was dead. His existence continued as 114 minutes recorded on both sides of a cassette tape. The voice was scratchy, at times incomprehensible. The voice of the questioner was plain and flat and the answers were fascinating.
Miki talked about the details of how Henkin routinely helped launder the money that poured into Prague from the production companies. There were kickbacks along the way to Henkin and various other cronies, including Miki. There were numbered Swiss bank accounts — and Miki knew some of the numbers because he handled all sorts of sordid details. The FBI made its request to the Swiss banking authorities through the State Department, and the Swiss, reluctant as always, honored it in time.