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

She returns the hammer to her belt, hitching at her pants as she secures
it. "All the carpenters, designers, painters, seamstresses -- yes,
General, to the extent they can be commanded at all, I have that singular
honor. And may I add, General -- " She folds her arms and glares. " --
that despite the extraordinarily short notice, the dreary accommodations,
the dearth of materials, the miserable weather, the inadequate blueprints,
and the constant meddling memos from headquarters and from Intelligence,
my people have done a bloody good job, for which they've received no
official recognition whatsoever except the heel of your boot and the
lifted leg of your, your, familiar, but I, for one, am quite proud of this
-- what's the phrase, General? -- purple-pissing Limey Hooverville."
Now this is new. Before, my Shepperton liaison during the winter of '43
and '44 was a hangdog little Cockney fellow with less backbone than a
Cornish pasty. I feel a ridiculous stab of optimism, a joy almost painful,
like a bullet. I make myself scowl anyway. I slap my boot, once, with my
riding crop. The woman stands a little straighter, slightly widens her
eyes, but doesn't look away, and keeps glaring. I'll be damned. Maybe I
can turn this sorry-ass assignment around.
But then I feel a wave of weariness (even as I put my fists on my hips and
hunch my shoulders and brace my legs, my prime chewing-out stance), and I
think, you're no longer that young man in Mexico, Georgie. The changes, my
God, they get harder and harder. Sicily was the last time I even bothered
to try, and look how that turned out. So tired. So old.
But still the boss of this goddamn outfit.
"I'm not accustomed to being spoken to that way, Miss Thomson, by any
American below the rank of colonel, or by any Brit below the rank of prime
minister."
Jaw a little tighter, she holds her ground. Damn. Lucky thing I'm not
cheating on Beatrice anymore.
After a pause, I add, "So I suppose I'll have to call you Colonel, at
least. At ease, Colonel Thomson."
I turn and kick another hole in the tank. The whole contraption shudders,
but stays intact.
"So far so good," I say, turning back to her and smiling for the first
time. "I do commend you and your crew, Colonel, for making a damned good
start on this thing. But we have a lot left to do, a hell of a lot. When's
the tour?"
She blinks. "The tour."
"You are no doubt aware, Colonel, that I am here for a guided inspection
tour of Fortitude headquarters."
She looks at her watch. "And you are no doubt aware, General, that you
were not expected until nine o'clock -- " She catches my glance. " -- Ah,
bloody hell -- oh nine hundred hours tomorrow morning."
"I'm impatient. But I am here, and I am at your disposal, Colonel, so
please show me this magnificent deception of yours."
She sighs, grins, shakes her head, plucks a large flashlight from that
amazing belt -- could that be a holster? Must make a note of how that
thing is put together. Tank crews could use something like that. "Well,"
she says, "I suppose Agatha Christie won't solve the case while I'm away.
Do you care for murder mysteries, general? Or do you get enough of killing