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

'We want nothing disturbed. It may be important, Mr Sellers.'

There may also,' I said sarcastically, 'be something mere that will help. Something you wouldn't see and I would. That could be important, too!'

'Possibly. However, that is the decision. As I said, you will be informed of any development.'

I wanted to hit him, instead I made myself speak quietly. 'It's forty-eight hours now, Inspector Schmid. Are you really telling me you've discovered nothing? Don't you even know where she went, who she saw, why she was afraid?'

Schmid said, 'One possibility, Mr Sellers, is that she was carrying something out of the Soviet Union. Had that occurred to you?' He was pulling the same trick again, looking me suddenly hard in the eye.

I said, 'Sure she was. She was carrying articles and pictures. Enough for six issues of the magazine. She was a journalist, not a spy.'

'Is the distinction always so clear?'

'She wasn't a spy,' I said. 'You can be quite certain of that. If she was carrying anything, it was planted on her.'

Schmid nodded. 'We are aware of that possibility, too.'

Then he slid out, without looking back, and the big sergeant followed.

I watched the door close. Appropriate. I faced a closed door, all right. I picked up the phone and gave the operator Scown's phone number, the line that wasn't intercepted by secretaries, and listened to the assorted clicks as the call was routed.

'What is it?' Other people give their names or numbers, or at least say, yes? Scown assumes the worst.

'The police aren't very co-operative,' I said, 'Who's that?'

'Sellers.'

'Are they ever?'

'They've closed the door,' I said. 'But I want to check one thing. She phoned the office that night. To whom did she speak and what did she say?'

'Your number?'

I told him and he put the phone down.

Miss Harrison, the editor's secretary, rang me back ten minutes or so later. She said, 'Miss Hay spoke to me the other night, Mr Sellers.'

'What did she say?'

'She wanted to know where you were. Whether I had a number for you. I told her where you were staying in Washington.'

'How did she sound?'

There was a pause. 'I don't- quite see what you mean.'

So Miss Harrison didn't know! Scown was keeping the whole thing to himself! I thought angrily about those bloody official circles. 'Did she seem worried?'

'Well, I don't quite know. She just said she wanted the number. I don't remember anything unusual.'