"MacLean, Alistair - Airforce One is down (John Denis)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

body swivel from the waist as Stein extended a bony hand in greeting.
'Physician, heal thyself,' Dunkels murmured indelicately.
'Mr Dunkels, I presume,' Stein said in German.
Dunkels ran his tongue along his strong, square teeth and grinned. 'There's an
answer to that, I believe,' he replied in English,'though I never learned what
it was. Doctor Stein: it's good to meet you at last.' He gripped Stein's hand
with careless strength, but released it when the Swiss grimaced in pain.
'Sorry,' Dunkels said, 'I wouldn't hurt your hands for all the money in Zurich.'
'Even with all the money in Zurich, I doubt that you'd be able to buy their
equal,' Stein remarked, in excellent, though accented, English. He rubbed his
abused fingers ruefully and added, 'I'll lead the way, then,' turning as fluidly
as a man afflicted with apparent arthritic curvature of the spine can rotate.
The Mercedes slid away, and Dunkels followed the little Swiss doctor along two
uniformly pristine corridors until they came to an oak-panelled door bearing the
single word "Director". Stein's office was functional G-plan, with a
picture-window framing the valley and mountains like an adjustable holiday-snap.
Stein settled himself behind the desk and seemed to grow in stature now that he
was exercising his own territorial imperative. He waved Dunkels into a
comfortable low hide chair.
'You have the photographs and the anatomically detailed descriptions?' Stein
asked, breaking the silence.
Dunkels nodded. 'You have the candidate?'
Stein nodded. Dunkels waited for the exposition, but none came Finally he
sniffed loudly and said, 'Name?'
Stein linked his fingers and laid them on the desk, leaning forward and gazing
intently at Dunkels as if he were on the point of revealing a state secret.
'Jagger. Cody Jagger.'
Dunkels pursed his lips. 'It has a somewhat theatrical ring,' he mused.
'It's his real name,' Stein supplied confidentially.
Dunkels sat up and leaned in towards Stein. 'He's here now?'
Stein inclined his impressive head. 'Would you like to see his picture?' Dunkels
indicated that he would.
It was an ordinary enough face gazing out at him from the first page of the
manilla folder which Stein shot across the polished mahogany desk. The
ordinariness, Dunkels knew, was a bonus. It was also a strangely pliable-looking
faceЕ no highlights or promontories, no points of interest or focus; it could
have been moulded from plasticine for all the definition it carried. Another
bonus. Dunkels stared hard at the face, then closed his eyes and tried to
visualise its contours; and failed. He grinned, and smacked his lips
approvingly.
Stein smiled too. 'I knew you'd like him. Good basic building-material. There
are, additionally, certain similarities already between Jagger and the subject,
and for total conversionЕ well, at the very least Jagger's physiognomy creates
no obstacles, as you can see. The colouring, incidentally, is identical, and his
height and weight match the subject's almost exactly.'
'Almost?'
'Each man is six feet two inches tall, but Jagger is eight pounds heavier than
the subject. This is not a problem, since my clinic specialises in
reducing-diets '
'Among other things.'