"Nephilim - 03 - The Revealing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marzulli L A)

"Hey, will you look at this," called one of the Americans. He pulled Von Schverdt's coat away from his shoulders.
"Looks like we got ourselves a general." A sergeant ambled forward, gumming the butt of a cigarette.
The others crowded around, peering at his uniform.
"I am SS-Obergruppenfuehrer, Wolfgang Von Schverdt," Von Schverdt said, in almost perfect English, but with a heavy accent.
The Americans looked at each other in astonishment.
"I have very important information there, in the back of the car, for your superiors. They are expecting me." And he gestured toward the rear of the car.
"Take a look, Charlie," the sergeant ordered.
Charlie, a stocky youth with unshaven stubble on his face, hurried over to the car and opened the rear door.
"Two satchels ... lots of papers, Sarge. Hey, he's got a handgun lying on the front seat."
"Bring 'em along," Sarge replied.
The soldier slung his rifle onto his shoulder and hoisted the satchels out of the car, then retrieved the Luger.
They escorted Von Schverdt toward the roadblock. Von Schverdt's eyes darted about, searching for the official that had promised he would meet him. When they reached the roadblock, one of the soldiers raised the wooden crossbar and Von Schverdt passed under it. He heard the sound of a jeep growing closer from behind him.
"Hey, looks like we got more company," one of the American soldiers, manning the machine gun, yelled out.
"Looks like the Russians," someone else replied.
Von Schverdt saw an officer emerge from the shell of a burned-out building, with the remains of shaving cream still on his chin.
Shaving at this time of day ... Where is the discipline of this army? Von Schverdt wondered.
"Who's this?" the officer asked, throwing a glance at Von Schverdt as he buckled his sidearm to his waist.
"Looks like a general, sir. He just pulled up outta nowhere and surrendered to us," the sergeant replied.
Von Schverdt turned his head and looked at the incoming jeep with a bright red Russian star painted on the hood and flags flying from each of the front fenders. The jeep came to a stop inches from the wooden crossbar. A tall, thin man in civilian clothes climbed out.
One of the American MPs called out, "What can we do you for?"
The civilian crossed his arms in front of him. "I am Vladimir Patchenko, Russian Secret Service."
The American officer took a step forward. "Captain Decker, Ninth Army."
Patchenko nodded. "We saw his car speeding through the streets and followed him here." He glanced at Von Schverdt. "We want him for interrogation."
Captain Decker shifted his weight and remained unfazed. "This man's surrendered to us, and I have orders from my higher-ups regarding the surrender of Nazi officers."
Von Schverdt eyed the Russian. How far will he go with the American? he wondered. If somehow this Russian asserts him-self over the American captain, then my work, all of it, is lost. And I am, most likely, a dead man.
Patchenko took a few steps closer to Von Schverdt. "?'m sure we can work something out, Captain, yes?"
Decker shook his head, fumbled in his pocket, and produced a pack of Luckys. It was fresh and unopened. He tapped it in the palm of his left hand several times, then pried off the wrapper. "Smoke?" He held out the pack to Patchenko.
A smile broke over Patchenko's face. "This is a luxury, Captain," he replied, taking one. "May ? have another, for later?"
"Be my guest. In fact, why not take the whole pack?" Decker held the pack out in front of the man. Patchenko hesitated a moment, then took the cigarettes and slipped them into his jacket pocket.
Decker slid his hand into the other pocket of his pants and came up with a lighter. He flicked the scr?tched cover open, thumbed a flame, then lit Patchenko's cigarette. "Bought this the day we shipped out from the States."
Patchenko nodded and inhaled deeply, then let a stream of smoke escape from his mouth. "Captain, I'm grateful for this andЧ"
Decker cut the man off. "No gratitude necessary, Mr. Patchenko. Just let's leave things as they are with my prisoner. Okay?"
Von Schverdt feigned indifference and looked away from the men as he held his breath.
Patchenko took another drag and then began to nod his head in agreement.
"So we have a deal then?" Decker cocked his head to one side, smiling as he extended his hand.
"Deal," Patchenko replied. They shook hands, and he headed back to his jeep.
"Visit us again," Decker called out.
. Patchenko's driver fired the engine and a moment later the jeep sped away.
Von Schverdt let his breath out, relieved at the outcome. "You speak any English?" Decker asked.
"Fluently, Captain," Von Schverdt replied, then added, "I was instructed by a Colonel Dougherty to surrender here. He assured me that he would be present."
Decker raised his eyebrow "Sarge, the radio. Call HQ and see if there's a Colonel Dougherty that knows about this."
Von Schverdt saw the man disappear into the same burned-out shell from which the captain had emerged.
"What's your rank?" Decker asked.
"I am an SS-Obergruppenfuehrer. ? general."
Decker nodded and looked at the tw? satchels of papers. "And those?"
"Colonel Dougherty expressed a keen interest in them," Von Schverdt replied.
"What was your command?"
"I'm afraid I cannot discuss any of this," Von Schverdt answered. "Only with Colonel Dougherty."
Their conversation was interrupted as the sergeant returned. "It's legit, Cap. HQ says Colonel Dougherty left an hour or so ago. He's OSS."
"OSS," Decker repeated. "Intel boys."