"Ludlum, Robert - Matarese Dynasty 01 - The Matarese Circle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

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PRINTED IN THE UN ITED STATES OF AMERICA
PART I
We three Kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we traverse afar. .

The band of carolers huddled at the comer, stamping their feet and swinging
their arms, their young voices penetrating the cold night air between the
harsh sounds of automobile horns and police whistles and the metallic
strains of Christmas music blaring from storefront speakers. The snowfall
was dense, snarling traffic, causing the hordes of last-minute shoppers to
shield their eyes. Nevertheless, they managed to sidestep each other, as
well as the lurching automobiles, and the mounds of slush. Tires spun on
the wet streets; buses inched in maddening starts and stops, and the bells
of uniformed Santas kept up their incessant if futile clanging.

Field and fountain,
Moor and mow-an-ten....

A dark Cadillac sedan turned the comer and crept past the carolers. The
lead singer, dressed in a costume that was somebody's idea of Dickens' Bob
Cratchit, approached the right rear window, his gloved hand outstretched,
his face contorted in song next to the glass.

Following ya-hon-der star...

'Me angry driver blew his hom and waved the begging caroler away, but the
middle-aged passenger in the back seat reached into his overcoat pocket and
pulled out several bills. He pressed a button; the rear window glided down
and the gray-haired man thrust the money into the outstretched hand.
3
4 THE MATARESE CIRCLE
"God bless you, sir," shouted the caroler. "The Boys Club of East Fiftieth
Street thanks you. Merry Christmas, sir!"
The words would have been more effective had there not been a stench of
whisky emanating from the mouth that yelled them.
"Merry Christmas," said the passenger, pressing the window button to shut
off further communication.
There was a momentary break in the traffic. The Cadillac shot forward only
to be forced to an abrupt, sliding stop thirty feet down the street. The
driver gripped the steering wheel; it was a gesture that took the place of
cursing out loud.
"Take it easy, Major," said the gray-haired passenger, his tone of voice at