"McCammon, Robert R. - The Wolf's Hour" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

УThe one I escaped from six months ago,Ф Mouse said. He picked up a ladle and scooped out some soup, then slurped noisily. The others were silent, still watching him; CamilleТs mouth was open, as if she were about to let loose a dish-rattling scream. УIt was a place over on the west side of the city,Ф Mouse said. УFor crack-ups and people whoТd shot themselves in the foot. I told them when they signed me up that I had weak nerves. Did they listen?Ф Another noisy slurp of soup, and the liquid ran down his chin to his shirt. УNo, they didnТt listen. They said IТd be in a field kitchen, and that I wouldnТt see any action. But did the bastards say anything about the air raids? No! Not a word!Ф He took a mouthful of soup and sloshed it around between his cheeks. УYou know Hitler paints that mustache on, donТt you?Ф he asked. УItТs the truth! That cockless bastard canТt grow a mustache. He wears womenТs clothes at night, too. Ask anybody.Ф
УOh, God save us! A Nazi lunatic!Ф Camille moaned softly, her face now matching the color of her hair. She staggered back, and Gaby caught her before she fell.
УThis could stand a whole clove of garlic,Ф Mouse said, and smacked his lips. УIt would be a masterpiece!Ф
УNow what are you going to do?Ф Gaby asked Michael. УYouТll have to get rid of him.Ф She glanced quickly at the revolver he held.
For one of the few times in his life Michael Gallatin felt like a fool. HeТd grasped at a straw, he realized, and heТd come up with a bent twig. Mouse was happily drinking soup from the ladle and looking around the kitchenЧobviously familiar territory to him. A bomb-shocked German escapee from a mental hospital was a fragile lever on which to move closer to Adam; but what else did he have? Damn it! Michael thought. Why didnТt I let this madman go? There was no telling what might happen ifЧ
УYou said something about a financial arrangement, I believe,Ф Mouse said, and put the ladle down into the pot. УWhat might you have in mind?Ф
УCoins on your eyes when we float your body down the Seine!Ф Camille shouted, but Gaby shushed her.
Michael hesitated. Was the man useless, or not? Maybe no one but a lunatic would dare try what he was about to propose. But theyТd only get one chance, and if Mouse made a mistake they might all pay with their lives. УI work for the British Secret Service,Ф he said quietly. Mouse kept poking around the kitchen, but Camille gasped and almost swooned again. УThe Gestapo is watching an agent of ours. I have to get a message to him.Ф
УThe Gestapo,Ф Mouse repeated. УMean bastards. TheyТre everywhere, you know.Ф
УYes, I do know. ThatТs why I need your help.Ф
Mouse looked at him, and blinked. УIТm German.Ф
УI know that, too. But youТre not a Nazi, and you donТt want to go back to the hospital, do you?Ф
УNo. Of course not.Ф He inspected a pan and tapped its bottom. УThe food there is atrocious.Ф
УAnd I donТt think you want to continue your life as a thief, either,Ф Michael went on. УWhat IТd like for you to do will take maybe two secondsЧif youТre any good as a pickpocket. If not, the Gestapo will pick you up right on the street. And if that happens, IТll have to kill you.Ф
Mouse stared at Michael, his eyes startlingly blue against his grimy, seamed face. He put the pan aside.
УIТll give you a piece of folded paper,Ф Michael said. УThat paper should be placed in the coat pocket of a man IТll describe to you and point out to you on the street. ItТll have to be done fast and appear as if you simply bumped against him. Two seconds; no longer. ThereТll be a team of Gestapo men following our agent, possibly watching him along the route he walks. Anything that looks slightly suspicious is going to draw them down on you. My friendФЧhe nodded at GabyЧУand I will be close by. If things go wrong, weТll try to help you. But my first loyalty is to our agent. If that means I have to shoot you along with the Gestapo, I wonТt hesitate.Ф
УOf that IТm certain,Ф Mouse said, and plucked an apple from a clay bowl. He examined it for worms, then bit into it. УYouТre from Britain, uh?Ф he asked between crunches. УMy congratulations. Your German is very good.Ф He glanced around the tidy kitchen. УThis isnТt what I expected the underground to be. I thought it was a bunch of Frenchmen hiding in sewers.Ф
УWe leave the sewers for your kind!Ф Camille shot back, still feisty.
УMy kind,Ф Mouse repeated, and shook his head. УOh, weТve lived in the sewers since 1938, madam. WeТve been force-fed shit so long we began to enjoy the taste. IТve been in the army for two years, four months, and eleven days. A great patriotic duty, they said! A chance to expand the Reich and create a new world for all right-thinking Germans! Only the pure of heart and the strong of bloodЕ well, you know the rest.Ф He grimaced; heТd bitten into a sour spot. УNot all Germans are Nazis,Ф he said quietly. УBut the Nazis have got the loudest voices and the biggest clubs, and theyТve succeeded in beating the sense out of my country. So yes, I do know the sewers, madam. I know them very well indeed.Ф His eyes looked scorched by inner heat, and he tossed the apple core into a basket. His gaze returned to Michael. УBut IТm still a German, sir. Maybe I am insane, but I love my homelandЧperhaps I love a memory of my homeland, instead of the reality. So why should I help you do anything that might kill my countrymen?Ф
УIТm asking you to help me prevent my countrymen from being killed. Possibly by the thousands, if I canТt reach the man IТm after.Ф
УOh, yes.Ф Mouse nodded. УOf course this has to do with the invasion.Ф
УGod strike us all!Ф Camille moaned. УWeТre ruined!Ф
УEvery soldier knows the invasion is coming,Ф Mouse said. УItТs no secret. Only no one knowsЧyetЧwhen it will be, or where. But itТs inevitable, and even us dumb field kitchen cooks know that. One thingТs for sure: once the Brits and the Americans start marching over the coast, no damned Atlantic WallТs going to stop them. TheyТll keep going all the way to Berlin; I just pray to God theyТll get there before the damned Russians do!Ф
Michael let that comment pass. The Russians, of course, had been savagely fighting their way west since 1943.
УMy wife and two children are in Berlin.Ф Mouse sighed softly and ran a hand across his face. УMy eldest sonЕ was nineteen when he went to war. On the Eastern Front, no less. They couldnТt even scrape enough of him up to send back in a box. They sent me his medal. I put it on the wall, where it shines very pretty.Ф His eyes had become moist; now they hardened again. УIf the Russians get to Berlin, my wife and childrenЕ well, that wonТt happen. The Russians will be stopped, long before they get to Germany.Ф The way he said that made it clear he didnТt believe his own conviction.
УYou might help to shorten this war by doing what I ask,Ф Michael told him. УThereТs a lot of territory between the coast and Berlin.Ф
Mouse said nothing; he just stood staring into space, his hands hanging at his sides.
УHow much money do you want?Ф Michael prodded.
Mouse was silent. Then he said softly, УI want to go home.Ф
УAll right. How much money do you need for that?Ф
УNo. Not money.Ф He looked at Michael. УI want you to get me to Berlin. To my wife and children. IТve been trying to find a way out of Paris ever since I escaped from the hospital. I couldnТt get two miles out of the city before a security patrol picked me up. You need a pickpocket, and I need an escort. ThatТs what IТll agree to.Ф
УImpossible!Ф Gaby spoke up. УItТs out of the question!Ф
УWait.Ф MichaelТs voice was firm. He had been planning on finding a route to Berlin anyway, to contact agent Echo and find the big-game hunter whoТd had the Countess Margritta murdered. The photograph of Harry Sandler, smiling as he stood atop the carcass of a lion, had never been very far from MichaelТs mind. УHow would I get you there?Ф
УThatТs your job,Ф Mouse said. УMine is putting a piece of paper in a manТs pocket. IТll do itЧand IТll do it with no mistakesЧbut I want to go to Berlin.Ф
Now it was MichaelТs turn for silent deliberation. Getting himself to Berlin was one thing; escorting an escapee from a lunatic asylum was quite another. His instincts told him to say no, and they were rarely wrong. But this was a matter of fate, and Michael had little choice. УAgreed,Ф he said.
УYouТre mad, too!Ф Camille wailed. УAs mad as he is!Ф But her voice wasnТt as stricken as it had been before, because she recognized the method in his madness.
УWe go tomorrow morning,Ф Michael said. УOur agent leaves his building at thirty-two minutes after eight. It takes him approximately ten minutes to walk his route. IТll work out on the map where I want the job done; in the meantime, youТll stay here tonight.Ф
Camille started to roar with indignation again, but there was no point in it. УHeТll sleep on the floor!Ф she snapped. УHe wonТt dirty my linens!Ф
УIТll sleep right here.Ф Mouse motioned to the kitchen floor. УI might get hungry tonight, anyway.Ф
Camille took the revolver back from Michael. УIf I hear any noise in here, IТll shoot to kill!Ф
УIn that case, madam,Ф Mouse said, УitТs best to tell you that I snore.Ф
It was time to get some sleep. They all had a busy day tomorrow. Michael started for the bedroom, but Mouse said, УHey! Hold on! Which coat pocket do you want the paper in? Outside or inside?Ф
УOutside will do. Inside would be better.Ф
УInside it is, then.Ф Mouse took another apple from the bowl and crunched into it. He glanced at Camille. УAnyone going to offer me some soup, or must I starve to death before morning?Ф
She made a noise that mightТve been a snarl, threw open a cupboard, and got a bowl for him.
In the bedroom Michael took off his cap and shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, studying a map of Paris by the light of a white candle. Another candle was lighted on the other side of the bed, and Michael looked up at GabyТs shadow as she undressed. He smelled the apple-wine fragrance of her hair as she brushed it back. It should be done equidistantly between AdamТs building and his office, he decided as he studied the map again. He found the spot he was looking for, and he marked it with his fingernail. Then he looked up once more, at the womanТs shadow.
He felt the fine down of hair stir from the back of his neck along his spine. Tomorrow was going to be a walk on the edge of danger; perhaps an encounter with death. His heart was beating harder. He watched GabyТs shadow as she peeled off her slacks. Tomorrow might bring death and destruction, but tonight they were alive, andЕ
He smelled the faint aroma of cloves as Gaby drew back the sheet and slipped into bed. He folded the map of Paris and put it aside.
Michael turned and looked at her. Candlelight glittered in her sapphire eyes, and her black hair lay over the pillow, the sheet barely up over her breasts. She looked back at him and felt her heart flutter; then she lowered the sheet, just a fraction of an inch, and Michael saw and recognized the invitation.
He leaned over her, and he kissed her. Lightly at first, on the corners of her lips. And then her lips parted and he kissed her deeply, flame to flame. As their kiss went on, moist and hot, he could almost hear the steam drifting from their pores. Her lips tried to keep him, but he pulled away and stared at her. УYou donТt know anything about me,Ф he said softly. УAfter tomorrow we might never see each other again.Ф