"da Cruz, Daniel - Republic of Texas 02 - Texas on the Rocks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Da Cruz Daniel)

"I can't tell you how glad I am you came to see me." He meant it. There was no question in his mind that probably only Forte could bring an iceberg into San Francisco Bay in time to win Castle the presidency. Of course, he'd have to go through the motions of considering alternatives, but his mind was already made up: Forte was his man.

"You realize that with a prime contract like this, worth many billions of dollars, the competition will be fierce, and my decision as to the winner closely scrutinized. But if--I must emphasize--if--I should decide to name Forte Ocean Engineering as prime contractor, when could you begin operations?"

"I've already started."

In the outer office, Miss Brill switched off the speaker. A moment later, the door to the Secretary's office swung open and Ripley Forte emerged. Jennifer Red Cloud, who had been whispering instructions to Randy Gustafson, looked up.

"Why, hello, Ripley," she said with an amused look. "What's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Forte hadn't seen her in five or six years, but if anything, she was even more lovely than when they had last met. More rounded, more mature, with the hint of lines at the corners of those big violet eyes.

Ripley Forte nodded gravely. "Well, well. If it isn't our little Indian princess! How are things back at the castle?"

"The castles I've got interest me a lot less than the castles I'm going to get."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Red?"

"Very sure of myself. After all, if I can demolish a Forte, a Castle shouldn't give me much trouble."

Forte couldn't top that, so he wished her a very good morning and left. She watched him go and then turned to enter David D. Castle's inner office.

As she closed the door behind Mrs. Red Cloud and returned to her desk, Miss Brill reached over to turn up the tape recorder volume.

Gustafson shook his head. "I don't want to hear it," he said. "I don't want anybody to hear it--ever."

"Why, I can't do that," protested Miss Brill. "That would be against government regulations."

Gustafson cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Besides," she went on, "that's a voice-activated machine. There's no way I can turn it off so long as they're talking in there. It's all automatic."

"Think on your feet, girlie."

"I'm sorry, but there just isn't--"

"You'll wish there was, when Castle hears about that $20,000 with your greasy thumbprints all over it."

With a speed that surprised him, she crossed the room to the supply closet and returned with an aerosol can. She sprayed the revolving tapes liberally. They slowed, stuttered, and stopped.

Secretary Castle had never been able to shake the memory of Jennifer Red Cloud. Their paths had crossed frequently on Capitol Hill when they were both new to Washington--he as a freshman congressman, she as a bright television reporter. Like practically every man she interviewed, he had asked her out to dinner. Somewhat to his surprise, she accepted, ate sparingly, drank nothing, listened to his confided ambition to be numero uno someday, and kissed him chastely on the cheek as he deposited her on her doorstep. It was their first and last private meeting, but for weeks he thought about her constantly. His confidences hadn't been worth reporting, and some months later she had gone on to marry Ned Raynes. He wondered if she even remembered him. Nothing in her demeanor suggested she did. Jennifer Red Cloud, he knew, was a clever, conspiratorial, resolute, and dangerous woman. As chairman of Raynes Oceanic Resources, she had obviously come ready to do battle for the prime contract for the iceberg recovery project. There was no question that, as experienced and successful as her company had been, she could bring nothing like the depth of experience and expertise that Ripley Forte offered. But he would have to be deferential, for she was rich and well connected. And he would have to be firm, for his political career was riding on his decision.

Mrs. Red Cloud cut short his pleasantries. She wanted, she said, the prime contract to bring icebergs from the Antarctic to America.

"How much experience has your company had in handling icebergs, Mrs. Red Cloud?"

"None whatever."

"Well, then, I suppose your company has been doing research on the subject, and you have come to discuss a detailed plan to implement the project?"