"Alistair MacLean - Time Of The Assassins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

Barak pulled a roll of banknotes from his jacket

pocket, reluctantly peeled off a couple and handed them to the prostitute. She snatched them from him, cursed angrily at them both, then strode off in search of a taxi.

Laidlaw waited until the prostitute was out of sight then nodded to Graham who had been standing by the tree. Barak's eyes widened in amazement as Graham approached them. He looked at Laidlaw, searching for an answer. Laidlaw said nothing.

'Still as tight as ever, Barak,' Graham said, indicating the notes in Barak's hand.

Barak instinctively stuffed them back into his pocket then rubbed his hands together nervously. 'What are you doing back in Beirut, Mr Graham?'

'Let's go inside,' Graham said, gesturing towards the house.

Barak led them up a narrow concrete path to the unpainted door and opened it. He beckoned them inside and immediately closed the door behind him. He showed them into the lounge and drew the threadbare curtains before switching on the light. The room was unpainted and the only furniture consisted of a lime green sofa, two wooden chairs and a three-legged coffee table which was propped up against the wall to prevent it from toppling over.

'This is very irregular,' Barak said at length. 'I never do business at my house. You know that, Mr Laidlaw. Why did you come here? If anyone saw you - '

'Nobody saw us,' Graham snapped.

Barak's eyes shifted from Laidlaw to Graham. 'Why are you here?'

'Bernard.'

Barak scratched his stubbled chin then sat on the edge of the sofa. 'Jean-Jacques Bernard?'

'Yeah.'

'But he is dead. He died - '

'I saw him outside the American University Hospital yesterday morning,' Laidlaw cut in quickly. 'He's changed his appearance but it was Bernard.'

'You must have been mistaken,' Barak replied, shaking his head. 'Bernard is dead.'

'If Russell says he saw Bernard yesterday then that's good enough for me,' Graham said sharply.

Barak removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. 'I knew Bernard well. Do you not think I would know if he was still alive, especially if he was living here in Beirut?'

'I didn't say he was living here,' Laidlaw replied. 'He could be here on business. But it was Bernard.'

Graham took an envelope from his pocket and tossed it onto the sofa. 'There's five-thousand dollars there, in cash. Find Bernard and I'll double it.'

Barak opened the envelope and fanned the banknotes with his finger. He looked across at Graham. 'Why do you want Bernard so badly?'

'That doesn't concern you. Find him and you'll get the rest of the money.'

'Where are you staying?' Barak asked Graham.

'You call me if you find out anything,' Laidlaw said. 'Any time, day or night.'

Barak nodded then pushed the envelope into his pocket. 'I still say you are wasting your time. Bernard is dead.'