"Ludlum, Robert - The Cry Of The Halidon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

His clear gray eyes were deeply set beneath wide eyebrows, darker than
the light brown hair that fell with irritating regularity over his
forehead. His face was the color of a man's exposed to the weather, the
tone permanently stained by the sun, but not burned. The lines beside
and below his eyes seemed stamped more from his work than from age,
again a face in constant conflict with the elements. The cheekbones
were high, the mouth full, the jaw casually slack, for there was a
softness also about the man ... in abstract contrast to the hard,
professional look.

This softness, too, was in his eyes. Not weak, but inquisitive; the
eyes of a man who probed-perhaps because he had not probed sufficiently
in the past.

Things ... things ... had happened to this man.

The instant of observation over, he greeted the uniformed doorman with a
smile and a brief shake of his head, indicating a negative.

"No taxi, Mr. McAuliff?"

"Thanks, no, Jack. I'll walk."

"A bit nippy, sir."

"It's refreshing--only going a few blocks."

The doorman tipped his cap and turned his attention to an incoming
Jaguar sedan. Alexander McAuliff continued down the Savoy Court, past
the theater and the American Express office to the Strand. He crossed
the pavement, and entered the flow of human traffic heading north toward
Waterloo Bridge. He buttoned his raincoat, pulling the lapels up to
ward off London's February chill.

It was nearly one o'clock; he was to be at the Waterloo intersection by
one. He would make it with only minutes to spare.

He had agreed to meet the Dunstone company man this way, but he hoped
his tone of voice had conveyed his annoyance. He had been perfectly
willing to take a taxi, or rent a car, or hire a chauffeur, if any or
all were necessary, but if Dunstone was sending an automobile for him,
why not send it to the Savoy? It wasn't that he minded the walk; he
just hated to meet people in automobiles in the middle of congested
streets. It was a goddamn nuisance.

The Dunstone man had had a short, succinct explanation that was, for the
Dunstone man, the only reason necessary for all things: "Mr. Julian
Warfield prefers it this way."

He spotted the automobile immediately. It had to be Dunstone's-and/or