"Andy Duncan - Fortitude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Andy)

out of him.

Willie trotting at my side, I stride into the St. James Square office of
the Supreme Allied Commander, who stands and returns my salute, then leans
across the desk, grinning, to shake my hand. So this is going to be one of
those across-the-desk things. Willie's leash goes taut as he snuffles the
rug, the legs of the davenport, the bar -- all these SHAEF offices are
tricked out like a goddamn bordello.
"George, Christ, it's good to see you."
"You, too, Ike, you, too."
I hear a scramble beneath the desk, and a hairy muzzle pokes out,
sniffing. It sweeps from left to right like a turret gun. Then it bares
its teeth and growls.
Willie stops so suddenly he nearly falls. He whimpers and shinnies
backward, huddling against my boots.
"Uh-oh," Ike says. He reaches beneath the desk to seize Telek by the
collar. The Scottie yaps and struggles.
"Hang on, Ike. I'll put him out." I scoop the trembling Willie into my
arms -- Jesus! How heavy do bull terriers get, anyway? He's harder to lift
all the time -- and turn to the door.
"No, don't bother, George, Willie can stay. I'll put Telek out."
"No, no, Ike. Telek outranks Willie. Besides, this is Telek's home.
Protocols, eh? Mims! Thank you. Now, Willie, don't take on so, I won't be
long, go with nice Sergeant Mims, Sergeant Mims will give you a treat. You
did bring the treats, didn't you, Mims? Good man. That Mims is a good
man," I say, as I close the door, leaning on the knob for support, and
turn back to Ike. He is reassuring Telek, who has disappeared beneath the
desk again.
"Have a seat, George." He jerks a hand in the general direction of the
hideous armchair -- Are all the man's gestures awkward? -- and, instead of
crossing to the davenport, or to the other armchair, sits at the desk and
rummages papers. Fine.
"Thank you, sir," I say. Seating myself, determined not to show my relief
at sitting down, I cross my legs at the knee and fold my hands in my lap.
Ike looks up and blinks his huge, bright eyes.
"Oh, come on, George, relax a little. Take your helmet off, at least. The
stars are shining in my eyes. Heh."
I lift it off, set it in my lap, smooth my hair, and fold my hands atop
the helmet. So tired. Good thing no one could doze off in this upholstered
torture device.
"Juice? Soda water? I'm told there's real lemonade today. A convoy got
through."
I glance at the ice bucket, the tumblers, the amber decanter that sparkles
in the lamplight.
"No, thank you," I say, my mouth dry.
"Trip into town go all right?"
"Just fine, Ike. No complaints."
He fusses with his papers again. I need something to focus on, so I study
him. If he were going to chew me out for something, he'd have started
already, would hardly have let me get in the door. If he were going to go