"Gadget Had a Ghost, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)
Duval suddenly shook his head.
УNo,Ф he said with a sort of pathetic violence. УThis affair is
not possible! To think of it invites madness! Mr. Coghian, let us thrust all this from our minds! Let us abandon it! I ask your pardon for my intrusion. I had hoped to find an explanation which could be believed. I abandon the hope and the attempt. I shall go back to Paris and deny to myself that any of this has ever taken place!Ф
Coghlan did not believe him, said nothing.
УI hope,Ф said Ghalil mildly, Уthat you may reconsider.Ф He moved toward the door with the Frenchman in tow. УTo abandon all inquiry at this stage would be suicidal!Ф
Coghlan said:
УSuicidal?Ф
УFor one,Ф admitted Ghalil, ruefully, УI should die of curiosity!Ф
He waved his hand and went out, pushing Duval. And Goghlan began to dress for his dinner with Laurie and her father at the Hotel Petra. But as he dressed, his forehead continually creased into a scowl of somehow angry puzzlement.
II
All the taxicabs of Istanbul are driven by escaped maniacs whom the Turkish police inexplicably leave at large. The cab in which Coghlan drove toward the Hotel Petra was driven by a man with very dark skin and very white teeth and a conviction that the fate of every pedestrian was determined by Allah and he did not have to worry about them. His cab was equipped with an unusually full-throated horn, and fortunately he seemed to love the sound of it. So Coghian rode madly through narrow streets in which foot-passengers seemed constantly to be recoiling in horror from the cab-horn, and thereby escaping annihilation by the cab.
The cab passed howling through preposterously narrow lanes. It turned corners on two wheels with less than inches to spare. It rushed roaring upon knots of people who dissolved with incredible agility before its approach, and it plunged into alleys like tunnels, and it emerged into the wider streets of the more mod-
em part of town with pungent Turkish curses hanging upon it like garlands.
Coghlan did not notice. Once he was alone, suspicions sprang up luxuriantly. But he could no more justify them than he could accept the situation his visitors had presented. The two had not asked for money or hinted at it. Coghlan didnТt have any money, anyhow, for them to be scheming to get. The only man a swindling scheme could be aimed at was Mannard. Mannard had money. HeТs made a fortune building dams, docks, railroads and power installations in remote parts of the world. But he was hardly a likely mark for a profitable hoax, even if his name was mentioned in that memorandum so impossibly in CoghlanТs handwriting. He was one of the major benefactors of the college in which Coghlan taught. He had at least one other major philanthropy in view right now. HeТd be amused. But there was Laurie, of course. She was a point where he could be vulnerable, be hit hard.
Decidedly Mannard had to be told about it.
The cab rushed hooting down the wide expanse of the Grande Rue de Petra. It made a U-turn. It eeled its way between a sedate limousine and a ferocious Turkish Army jeep, swerved precariously around a family group frozen in mid-pavement, barely grazed a parked convertible, and came to a squealing stop precisely before the canopy of the Hotel Petra. Its chauffeur beamed at Coghlan and happily demanded six times the legal fare for the journey.
Coghlan beckoned to the hotel Commissionaire. He put twice the legal fare in the manТs hand, said, УPay him and keep the change,Ф and went into the hotel. His action was a form of American efficiency. It saved money and argument. The discussion was already reaching the shouting stage as he entered the hotelТs large and impressive lobby.
Laurie and her father were waiting for him. Laurie was a good deal better-looking than he tried to believe, so he muttered, УProfessor, president, so what?Ф as he shook hands. It was very difficult to avoid being in love with Laurie, but he worked at it.
УIТm late,Ф he told them. УTwo of the weirdest characters you ever saw turned up with absolutely the weirdest story you ever heard. I had to listen to it. It had me flipped.Ф
A gleaming white shirt-front moved into view. A beaming smile caressed him. The short broad person who called himself Appolonius the GreatЧhe came almost up to GoghlanТs shoulder and outweighed him by forty poundsЧcordially extended a short and pudgy arm and a round fat hand. Coghlan noticed that AppoloniusТ expensive wrist-watch noticeably made a dent in the fatness of his wrist.
УSurely,Ф said Appolonius reproachfully, Уyou found no one stranger than myself!Ф
Coghlan shook hands as briefly as possible. Appolonius the Great was an illusionistЧa theatrical magicianЧwho was taking leave from a season he described as remarkable in the European capitals west of the Iron Curtain. His specialty, Coghlan understood, was sawing a woman in half before his various audiences, and then producing her unharmed afterward. He said proudly that when he had bisected the woman, the two halves of her body were carried off at opposite sides of the stage. This, he allowed it to be understood, was something nobody else could do with any hope of reintegrating her afterward.
He led the way toward the dining-room. Laurie took GoghlanТs arm. She looked up at him and smiled.
УI was afraid youТd turned against me, Tommy,Ф she said. УI was practising a look of pretty despair to use if you didnТt turn up.Ф
Goghian looked down at her and hardened his heart. On two previous occasions heТd resolutely broken appointments when heТd have seen Laurie, because he liked her too much and didnТt want her to find it out. But he was afraid sheТd guessed it anyway.
УGood thing I had this date,Ф he told her. УMy visitors had
me dizzy. Come to think of it, IТm going to ask Appolonius how they did their stunt. ItТs in his line, more or less.Ф
The head-waiter bowed the party to a table. There were only the four of them at dinner, and there was the gleam of silver and glass and the sound of voices, with a string orchestra valiantly trying to make a strictly Near-Eastern version of the Rhapsody in Blue sound like American swing. They didnТt make it, but at least it wasnТt loud.
Coghlan waited for the hors dТoeuvres, his face unconsciously growing gloomy. Appolonius the Great was lifting his wine-glass. The deeply-indented wristwatch annoyed Coghlan. Its sweep. second-hand irritated him unreasonably. Appolonius was saying blandly:
УI think it is time for me to reveal my great good fortune! I offer a toast to the Neoplatonist Autonomous Republic-to-be! Some think it a lie, and some a swindle and me the would-be swindler. But drink to its reality!Ф
He drank. Then he beamed more widely still.
УI have secured financing for the bribes I need to pay,Ф he explained. All his chins radiated cheer. УI may not reveal who has decided to enrich some scoundrelly politicians in order to aid my people, but I am very happy. For myself and my people!Ф
УThatТs fine!Ф said Mannard.
УI shall no longer annoy you for a contribution,Ф Appolonius assured him. УIs it not a relief?Ф
Mannard chuckled. Appolonius the Great was almost openly a fake; certainly he told about his УpeopleФ with the air of one who does not expect anybody to take him seriously. The story was that somewhere in Arabia there was a group of small, obscure villages in which the doctrines of Neoplatonism survived as a religion. They were maintained by a caste of philosopher-priests who kept the population bemused by magic, and Appolonius claimed to have been one of the hierarchy and to be astonishing all Europe with the trickery which was the mainstay of the cult. It sounded like the sort of publicity an over-imaginative press-
agent might have contrived. A tradition of centuries of the development and worship of the art of hocus-pocus was not too credible. And now, it seemed, Appolonius was claiming that somebody had put up money to bribe some Arab government and secure safety for the villagers in revealing their existence and at-least-eccentric religion.
УIТd some visitors today,Ф said Coghian, Уwho may have been using some of your Neoplatonistic magic.Ф He turned to Mannard. УBy the way, sir, they told me that I am probably going to murder you.Ф
Mannard looked up amusedly. He was a big man, deeply tanned, and looked capable of looking after himself. He said:
УKnife, bullet, or poison, Tommy? Or will you use a cyclotron? How was that?Ф
Coghlan explained. The story of his interview with the harassed Duval and the skeptical Ghalil sounded even more absurd than before, as he told it.
Mannard listened. The hors dТoeuvres came. The soup. Coghlan told the story very carefully, and was the more annoyed as he found himself trying to explain how impossible it was that it could be a fake. Yet he didnТt mention that one line which had most disturbed him.
Mannard chuckled once or twice as CoghlanТs story unfolded. УClever!Ф he said when Coghlan finished. УHow do you suppose they did it, and what do they want?Ф
Appolonius the Great wiped his mouth and topmost chin.
УI do not like it,Ф he said seriously. УI do not like it at all. Oh, the book and the fingerprints and the writing . . . one can do such things. I remember that once, in Madrid, IЧbut no matter! They are amateurs, and therefore they may be dangerous folk.Ф
Laurie said, УI think TommyТd have seen through anything crude. And I donТt think he told quite all the story. IТve known him a long time. ThereТs something that still bothers him.Ф
Coghlan flushed. Laurie could read his mind uncannily.
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