"Katherine Kurtz & Scott MacMillan - Knights of the Blood 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

we go charging off after Kluge. We already know that his business
connections extend to several major cities in the United States and
Canada. With his cover blown here in Europe, he may switch his base of
operations. In any case, the best way to round up solid information is for
me to return to the LAPD and utilize their extensive and very efficient
intelligence network."
Freise made a face. "You really think his cover is blown here? That's
only true if we can get someone to believe us. I mean, 'Nazi vampires'тАФ
really!"
"Yeah, I know," Drummond replied. "I've been telling myself the same
thing. Which makes it ail the more imperative that we utilize every
resource at our disposal to get a plan of action organized and track him
down. We can't do that without more sophisticated information than I can
gather sitting here in a medieval castle in Luxembourg."
"I suppose you're right," Freise conceded.
"We'll also need considerable financial backingтАФsome of which I can
provide, but I can't set the wheels in motion from here," Drummond went
on. "If I'm going to give this operation the support it requires, I have to go
back to L.A., catch my breath, and set up the support structure. But I
promise I'll be back. After allтАФ" he gave a wry grin and glanced at de
Beq and his knights "тАФI made a promise to him, too."
At his words, the eyes of both men turned toward the other end of the
hall, to the white-robed Master of the Order of the Sword and his knights.
Henri de Beq looked to be only in his late forties to early fifties, tall and
lean, with a short-clipped salt-and-pepper beard and pale eyes that missed
little; but he and his men had fought in the Holy Land when Acre fellтАФin
1291. Drummond still did not understand everything that had caused his
path to cross with that of the knights, seven hundred years later, but
something deep inside him knew that de Beq and his men were as
different from Kluge and his minions as day from night.
Recalling himself with a shake of his head, Drummond glanced back at
Father Freise. The old priest looked wistful as he pushed his plate back
from the edge of the table.
"Well, I suppose it's necessary," he said quietly. "Have you told him?"
"No. I hoped you'd do that for me," Drummond replied. "IтАФdon't know
that I could cope with my pidgin French and his medieval English to
make him understand. Would you do it, Frank?"
Freise swallowed uncomfortably, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell him."
 Standing up, the priest turned his back on Drummond and walked over
to the fireplace, staring for a long time at the glowing embers of the dying
fire. After a moment, Drummond joined him.
"So, when do you plan to go?" Friese asked.
"If I leave in the morning, I can still make my original flight back to
L.A. I don't suppose you'd care to come with me?"
Freise turned to face Drummond. His eyes were red-rimmed and moist,
as if he had been leaning too close to the smoke from the smouldering
embers on the hearth.
"No, not this time, John. The last time I left this castle, it was to run
away from Kluge. The next time I goтАФwell, it'll either be to finish him
once and for all, or feet-first in a pine box." The priest smiled. "But you