"Child Of The Stones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

Rainer Sue followed me compliantly and unquestioningly. When I asked him about Donny Halliwell, he shrugged.

УHe is not here?Ф

Rainer Sue shrugged again. I was sure that he was drugged -those bee stings - but he had also been made safe, made docile. We were walking away from the house now, and for a moment his attention was caught by the flashing blue lights of the ambulance and the two police cars that had arrived at the scene of the accident on the Embankment.

УSomeone got hurt,Ф he said.

УIt isnТt as bad as it could have been. Apart from Mr Halliwell, who else lives with you?Ф

Rainer Sue considered this. Thoughts rose to the surface of his face like trout in a still pool. УI have a guy who cooks for me and looks after the garden. And this woman comes in and cleans, she should be around, I guess. Wakes me up with her vacuum cleaner . . .Ф

УI saw her. Where is Donny Halliwell? And where is your driver?Ф

УDonny drives me. Or we get a limo, and a driver comes with it.Ф

I thought of the two people in the Jaguar. If Donny Halliwell had been the man who had confronted me - and I had only MirandaТs word that it was, just as I had only MirandaТs word that Donny Halliwell had broken into my house - then who was the driver? Someone who was skilled in the matter of the dead, that much was certain - someone who had made Donny Halliwell into his servant and had turned Rainer Sue into an amiable zombie, cleaned his house of revenants, and packed thousands of imps into the trap.

I said, УDoes Mr Halliwell have a friend? Someone who is perhaps staying with you?Ф

УHeТs my friend,Ф Rainer Sue said simply.

УAnd who is he, this friend of yours?Ф

УWe like the same things. Books - thatТs how we became friends.Ф The pop starТs attempt to look sly made him seem imbecilic. УWe like the same books.Ф

УDoes he have a name, this friend of yours?Ф

УCagliostro.Ф Rainer Sue frowned when I laughed. УWhatТs wrong? You know him?Ф

УI know of the man whose name your friend has assumed. How long has he been staying with you?Ф

Rainer Sue scratched at his bare chest while thoughts came and went under the surface of his face. At last he said, УA few days. A week, something like that. HeТs a very together guy, you know. He helped me. Helped me get rid of some very heavy psychic luggage. Made me feel a whole lot better, you know?Ф

УIТm sure he did.Ф I felt a touch of nausea at the thought of what had been done to this poor foolish man, and asked, УCan you drive?Ф

УSure. I love driving.Ф His eyes lit up for a moment; then his face fell. УBut Donny doesnТt let me.Ф

УI will let you. Do you have a motor car other than the Jaguar?Ф

УSure.Ф

УThen lead on, Mr Sue,Ф I said. УTake me to your car.Ф

It was cached in a lock-up garage at the rear of a nearby mansion block: a Mini in racing green, with white leather seats and tinted windows. It took me fifteen minutes, trembling with concentration, to purge it of every imp and residue, and make certain that there were no hidden traps or surprises. All the while, Rainer Sue hugged himself and hopped from one bare foot to the other like an incontinent child, murmuring Boy oh boy, boy oh boy.

It turned out that he was not a bad driver, and in any case it was not possible for him to drive at any great speed in the traffic-clogged streets, but I kept my eyes closed most of the way, opening them only to give directions or to try to work out where we were on the four or five occasions when he lost his bearings. He grinned from ear to ear, beating brief rhythms on the steering wheel and humming to himself as the little car lurched and scuttled and crept along. At least he had been left with the capacity for happiness; not out of charity on the part of the man who called himself Cagliostro, but because it made him more amenable to instruction.

It took more than two hours to drive across the city to the second address Rawles had given me: the mean block of council flats where Miranda lived. I left Rainer Sue in the Mini - I was fairly certain that he would not drive off, and was also fairly certain that he would fail to remember to sound the horn if he saw Donny Halliwell or the red Jaguar - and climbed three flights of a concrete stairway. The usual graffiti, the usual stink of urine, the usual litter of discarded needles and soft-drink cans and polystyrene clamshells, the usual little infestations.