"Archer, Geoffrey - The Burma Legacy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Archer Geoffrey)

investment adviser. In reality he worked for British Intelligence. Beside
him, wearing a yellow bikini, was Inspector Midge Adams - cover name
Beth - a narcotics officer with the Australian Federal Police. They'd met
for the first time that morning and were still wary of each other.
After a day of searching, they'd finally located their quarry, but the man
they were after was an hour away from them. Fearing he might move on
before they had the chance to catch up, they were squeezing every ounce
of speed from their craft.
Their target was a man called Jimmy Squires, a former sergeant in the
SAS, who'd turned to narcotics trading after leaving the Queen's employ. It
was the Australians who were leading the operation to catch him - the
market he served was in their backyard, the druggie hangouts of Sydney
and Melbourne. MI6's offer to help put Squires out of business was in part
the returning of a favour owed to the Australian Federal Police, but it was
also to do with national pride. The SAS, the jewel in the UK's military
crown, had a reputation to maintain. If one of its dogs went feral, the beast
had to be culled.
Packer had been scrambled to Phuket that morning. Only when he
landed in Thailand had he discovered the "Inspector Adams" he was to
work with was a female. And despite her petite shape, attractive blond hair
and dark brown eyes, he hadn't welcomed the arrangement. The last time
he'd worked closely with a woman, she'd nearly got him killed.
The Australians lacked the evidence they needed to put Jimmy Squires
behind bars. The purpose of this operation was to find some. Cash was the
key. If they could trace its passage from the addicts back to the supplier,
Midge Adams would have her case. The usually effective, electronic
systems for money tracking had failed to come up with the goods, so now
they were trying the direct approach. Hoping to trick Squires into telling
them where he banked his loot.
The scheme was entirely Midge Adams" idea. Packer considered it
dangerously naive and almost bound to fail. In the few hours he'd spent
with her, he'd been troubled by the intensity with which she talked about
the drug-runner. He suspected a personal motive behind her need to nail
the man. And when self-interest intruded in a case, mistakes tended to
follow.
The Andaman Sea shimmered in the relentless December sunlight. A
bimini over the bridge protected them from its afternoon heat. The area
they were powering through was a playground of turquoise waters and
white sand beaches, which drew millions of tourists a year escaping from
cold northern winters.
Packer altered course a few degrees to avoid a long-tail skiff which was
slicing through the waters towards them, its slender lines at odds with the
lumpy V-8 engine thundering away on its steering pole. The Thai boatman
had two Europeans as fares. He nursed his craft through the waves, helming
it towards some dream island, with the panache of a gondolier.
"You married, Steve?" Midge had spoken little in the last hour. Her
accent was broad and she eyed him from behind dark glasses. Steve. From
the moment they'd met she'd been meticulous about using cover names.
"No, Beth. I'm not."
"Partner? Live with someone?"