"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 04 - Slave of Sarma" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

Slave of Sarma
Blade Book 4


by Jeffrey Lord




Chapter One
^┬╗
It had been misting all day and, asLondon 's lights began to go on early, a dark brown fog crept in from
theThames . Pavements were shiny and treacherous, slimed by fallen leaves. Fog horns on the river were
raucous and surly, their mood matched by that of millions of Londoners as they began the vespertine
shove into tube and train and car. A dour day, in all, with Indian summer gone and the drear of winter
upcoming.
At 391/2Prince's Gate, Kensington, the mood was no less dour.

The house was tall and narrow, of early Victorian vintage. It had been in Lord Leighton's family since
he could remember. But because it was at times rented, at times idle, His Lordship was inclined, until
reminded by his agents, to forget that he owned it. The district was no longer fashionableтАФa matter of
little concern to Lord L, who was not very fashionable himselfтАФand it was J who had seen the
possibilities. J ran the affairs of MI6A, a most special branch of the Special Branch. J was also immediate
superior to Richard Blade, who at the moment was at his cottage inDorset and, with another foray into
Dimension X coming up, was not alone.
J was not thinking of Blade. He sat by a glowing coal fire, a glass of scotch and soda balanced on
one impeccably clad knee, and watched the two men duel. J's money was on Lord Leighton, but he had
to admit that the Right Honorable Hubert Carrandish was no mean opponent. Carrandish was a Member
of Parliament from the West Riding area inYorkshire , and he reminded J of a well-dressed and articulate
rodent. J, a fair man, did not go so far as to equate the MP with a rat; there were, after all, other species
of rodent. As he listened, keeping out of the battle, J felt himself becoming increasingly liverish. What the
Yanks called an upset stomach. This Carrandish, with his broad Yorkshire speechтАФsurely an affectation,
because the man wasOxford тАФwas dangerous. Not in himself, perhaps, but in what he represented.
Snooping.
 The Right Honorable gentlemen was chairman of a committee. A House of Commons committee set
up expressly to scrimp and save and cut corners and, in effect, to halt waste and preserve the Queen's
Purse. He was very good at his job.
Now he said, "I have a great deal of authority, Your Lordship, and more than adequate funds and
personnel. I pride myself that I work hard. I have been nearly a year on this job. I have had, I think,
more than a little success in ferreting out waste and extravagance in government."
Lord L dumped cigar ash on the carpet and stared at the man with yellow bloodshot eyes. Never a
patient man, and not taking to fools, so far he had been patient. J knew why. This Carrandish was no
fool.
"What you manage to save," Lord L said, "will just about pay for the cost of saving it, eh? That's
been my experience. You chaps organize your bloody committees to investigate other committees and
the end result is that in the end nothing is saved. Or accomplished. Time and money spent and nothing to
show for it, eh?"
J smiled at the fire. Lord L was trying to lay a false trail.
The MP fromYorkshire was having none of it. He was not a drinking man, or a smoking
manтАФpossibly because both cost money which could be better spentтАФand now he pushed away his