"Trevor, Elleston as Hall, Adam - Quiller 17 - Quiller Meridian 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hall Adam)

'I can only promise you to do my utmost.'

'That's all I ask,' I said. Croder's utmost could push a building down. 'Where do I report for clearance and briefing?'

I think it surprised him: it was a couple of seconds before he answered. 'I'm very pleased,' he said. 'I'm really very pleased. Let me switch you through to Holmes.'

It took half a minute, and while I was waiting Turner came away from the wall and dropped into a chair and just sat there with his hands on his knees, staring at nothing.

I blocked the mouthpiece.'don't feel you're to blame for Hornby,' I told him. 'He was in the field, not you, and he made a mistake, that was all.' He turned his head slowly to watch me, didn't say anything. 'I've tried that death -- on -- my -- hands bullshit, and it doesn't work, drives you up the wall.'

Holmes came on the line and I looked around for a scratch pad md found a bit of paper in the drawer of the phone table with Suzana, 6 P.M. on it and turned it over and found a bright green plastic ballpoint.

'Sorry to keep you waiting,' Holmes said. 'Got a bit of a flap on here, doesn't surprise me they've roped you in, only the best for our Mr C. The thing is, we've got to find you a plane right away.'

'How are you?' I asked him.

'Oh, absolutely ripping, old fruit. You?'

'God knows.'

'Don't worry, it'll be all right. You've got Ferris, no less, and Mr C. is extremely pleased you've agreed to take this one on. It's in the "M" group, by the way -- Meridian.'

Code-name for the mission.

He got things worked out within fifteen minutes, sometimes using another phone to get information while I stayed on the line. By the time I reached the airport here in Bucharest there'd be a reservation for me on Aeroflot Flight 291 in the name of Viktor K. Shokin. From the moment I checked in I would use that as my cover name and adopt the identity of a Soviet citizen and would if necessary claim only a rudimentary knowledge of English.

I would be met at Sheremetievo Airport in Moscow and taken immediately to the British Embassy for clearance and briefing.

I put a few questions and got the answers and shut down the signal and left the scrambler on. Turner was sunk into himself and I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like a trumped -- up sop to his misery, so I just told him I was using the Honda and his people could pick it up at the airport, keys in the usual place. Then I shut the door quietly.

By 1:30 in the morning I was in Moscow.

There was a girl in a navy blue windcheater and fur gloves and zippered ski boots in the transport area and I went through one of the doors and walked with a slight limp as far as the comer of the terminal building and she caught up with me there and gave me Meridian in a soft clear voice and said her name was Mitchell.

'Viktor Shokin,' I said, and we got into a dirty brown Trabant and drove through the deserted streets under light flurries of snow.

'There's been a change of plan,' the girl said, taking a fur glove off the wheel and wiping her nose on it. 'They decided they didn't want you seen going into the embassy.' She had a small pale face with intent and intelligent blue eyes; sometimes I thought her teeth were chattering -- there was no heating in the Trabant and the snowflakes weren't melting on the windscreen, just clogging the wiper blades. She stopped twice on our way through the city and I got out and unstuck them and scraped the glass a bit clearer with the edge of a notebook she had in the glove pocket.

She drove me to a decrepit three -- storey building in Basovskaja ulica and parked the car on a patch of waste ground, burying its nose under a hedge and bringing a small snowstorm down from the leaves -- 'It helps keep the engine warm.' She took me into the building and up two flights of rickety stairs under the light of a naked bulb hanging from the floor above. The reek of cooked cabbage was sharp enough to clear the sinuses. "They wanted to put me into one of those ghastly rectangular brown -- brick workers' complexes, a bit nearer the embassy, but I said I'd prefer a bit of old -- world charm, thank you, even if it was falling apart at the seams.'

'Nearer the embassy?' I said. She swung a quick look at me in the gloom as we stopped outside a yellow -- painted door. 'I'm actually Bureau, agent -- in -- place, but I work at the embassy in the cypher room. Don't worry, nobody in this building understands English, I made sure of that on my first day here -- stood on the landing and shouted Fire! but nobody came out.

This is my place.' She led me into a sitting -- room with a Put -- U -- Up couch and a kitchenette in the corner and a door leading off it.

Make yourself at home. Can I call you Viktor? Me Jane. Would you like a drink or some coffee? Or are you hungry? Did you manage to get any dinner last night?'

I said I was fine.

She unzipped her ski boots and pulled them off and padded about m her thick red woollen socks, going across to a table in the corner and checking for messages. The telephone and the answering machine were linked up with a desk -- model scrambler and the green light was on.