"Kyle, Duncan - Terror's Cradle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kyle Duncan)

'Because . . .' I hesitated. I didn't fully understand Scown's reasons myself. 'I suppose because she was the right person to do it. She knew magazine production.'

'But it would be unusual to send a woman?'

'A bit,' I said. 'We're male chauvinist pigs in Fleet Street.'

'You're what?'

'It's a man's world,' I said. 'The thing is, it wasn't just "a woman" who was sent, any more than they'd send just any man. She went because she's damn good.'

'And very attractive? I have seen her photograph.'

'Then you know the answer.'

'Also, she has charm?'

'More than most,' I said. More than any was what I meant, but I was keeping things deliberately flat. Police forces the world over send worried lovers and husbands home for a cup of tea. It's a conditioned reflex.

He saw through me though. 'Your relationship with Alison Hay?

'I've known her a long time. Her father was a friend. So is she. And we worked together for a while.'

He nodded, glanced down at his fingers, and muttered something I didn't quite catch.

'Sorry?'

He looked up, met my eyes deliberately and said quickly: 'Why did you go to Russia, Mr Sellers?'

If I hadn't been so worried about Alsa, I'd have laughed. The old interrogator's punctuation trick! I said, 'On the same thing.'

'The same magazine?'

'That's right.'

'Why? Why was it necessary to - '

I interrupted. 'Because I made a mess of things and they threw me out. She apparently did the job properly."

Schmid nodded and rose. 'Thank you. If we have any news, you will be informed.'

'Not so fast,' I said. 'There are things I want to know.'

'Well?'

'I'd like to see her room.'

'No.'

'Why not?'