"Trevor, Elleston as Hall, Adam - Quiller 11 - Northlight (Quiller) 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hall Adam)

Among the ice floes of the Barents Sea in Soviet waters, there floats the body of a crewmember of the US nuclear submarine Cetacea.

Within hours the diplomatic Shockwaves have . circled the entire globe, and the world stands on the brink of a deadly East-West confrontation. Only Quiller can track down the key Soviet naval officer whose testimony can defuse the situation.

But can even he escape the KGB, and the treacherous machinations of his own employers?





Adam Hall

Northlight


1 RAIN


AT the intersection from Sloane Street into Knights-bridge I put on speed when the lights changed to amber but it was a mistake because the flashing began in the mirror right away and I pulled into the curb and waited with the engine still running. I'd known the police car was behind me since I'd come through Sloane Square but I didn't think they'd make a fuss about jumping the lights on a filthy night like this; there'd been a freezing rain coming down since late afternoon and the streets were black and silver now under the lamps, with reflections across the surface and the gutters beginning to stream.

I let the window down and got out my driving licence to save time. In my opinion, sir, you could have pulled up safely enough at the traffic lights when they changed to amber, and so forth. It was a temptation to show him my bureau card and drive on again without having to go through all the bullshit but it's strictly against the rules if there's no actual emergency.

His face came into the window gap, with rain dripping from his cap peak.

'May I see your driving licence, please?'

I gave it to him, and he checked it.

'Thank you, Mr Gage. I just wanted to be sure who you were.' He handed it back. 'They'd like you to phone in, as soon as possible.'

Nothing to do with the lights.

'All right.' I put the licence away and got into gear. I'd switched off the phone in the car a couple of days ago and started using the Ansafone monitor in my flat, because at this stage - three or four weeks after you're back from the last mission - they start getting fidgety.

'They said it was urgent,' the policeman said insistently, his face still in the window gap.

I knew that. I'd been mobile for the last ninety minutes and when they couldn't get through they hadn't just given up: they'd phoned the Yard and asked for an immediate all-points-bulletin by radio with my description and number plate - Black Jensen Interceptor with cellular antenna and bunched spotlights, BBT1872 Ч and a request to pick me up on sight and tell me to phone base.

I slipped the gears into neutral again and switched the phone on, because there was nothing else I could do and I knew that. We sometimes play with the idea of goofing off somewhere and not answering the phone, but it's like denying the voice of God and bringing down a whole bloody mountainside of fire and brimstone.

'You can stay here, sir, while you call in. We'll look after you.' The lights were still flashing in the mirror.

'Fair enough.'

His face vanished, and I touched out QU-1 and waited.

'Were you switched off?' a voice came.

'Yes.'