"Ludlum, Robert - Bourne 01 - The Bourne Identity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

The only light and sound came from Le Bouc de Mer. The cafe was situated roughly in the centre of the alley, its premises once a nineteenth-century office building. A number of cubicles had been taken down to allow for a large bar-room and tables; an equal number were left standing for less public appoinI'ments. These were the waterfront's answer to those private rooms found at restaurants along La Cannebiere, and, as befitting their status, there were curtains, but no doors.

The patient made his way between the crowded tables, cutting his way through the layers of smoke, excusing himself past lurching fishermen and drunken soldiers and red-faced whores looking for beds to rest in as well as a few francs. He peered into a succession of cubicles, a crewman looking for his companions until he found the captain of the fishing boat There was another man at the table. Thin, pale-faced, narrow eyes peering up like a curious ferret's.

'Sit down,' said the dour skipper. 'I thought you'd be here before this.'

'You said between nine and eleven. It's quarter to eleven.'

'You stretch the time, you can pay for the whisky.'

'Be glad to. Order something decent, if they've got it.'

The thin, pale-faced man smiled. Things were going to be all right

They were. The passport in question was, naturally, one of the most difficult in the world to tamper with, but with great care, equipment and artistry, it could be done.

'How much?'

These skills - and equipment - do not come cheap. Twenty-five hundred francs.'

'When can I have it?'

The care, the artistry, they take time. Three or four days. And that's putting the artist under great pressure; he'll scream at me.'

There's an additional one thousand francs if I can have it tomorrow.'

'By ten in the morning,' said the pale-faced man quickly. 'I'll take the abuse.'

'And the thousand,' interrupted the scowling captain. 'What did you bring out of Port Noir? Diamonds?'

Talent,' answered the patient, meaning it but not understanding it

'I'll need a photograph,! said the connection.

'I stopped at an arcade and had this made,' replied the patient, taking a small square photograph out of his shirt pocket. 'With all that expensive equipment I'm sure you can sharpen it up.'

'Nice clothes,' said the captain, passing the print to the pale-faced man.

'Well tailored,' agreed the patient.

The location of the morning rendezvous was agreed upon, the drinks paid for, and the captain slipped five hundred francs under the table. The conference was over; the buyer left the cubicle and started across the crowded, raucous, smoke-layered bar-room towards the door.

It happened so rapidly, so suddenly, so completely unexpectedly, there was no time to think. Only react.

The collision was abrupt, casual, but the eyes that stared at him were not casual; they seemed to burst out of their sockets, widening in disbelief, on the edge of hysteria.

'No! Oh my God, no, It cannot ...' The man spun in the crowd; the patient lurched forward, clamping his hand down on the man's shoulder.

'Wait a minute!'