"Michael Moorcock - Seaton Begg - The Case of the Nazi Canary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

The Case of the Nazi Canary
A SEATON BEGG MYSTERY
The Nazis entrusted the future of their party to the
capable hands of Sir Seaton Begg, Metatemporal Detective
-the only man who could possibly destroy them!

By MICHAEL MOORCOCK
Author Of:
The Masked Buckaroo, The White Wolf's Legend, The Affair Of The Seven
Virgins, Lost Sorceress Of The Silent Citadel, Kane Of Old Mars, The Moon
Hawk, Calling Jerry Cornell!, The Caribbean Crisis, The Metatemporal
Detective, Again; Seaton Begg!, The Adventure Of The Texan's Honour, Buchan Of
Whitehall, The "Sir Milk And Blood" Case, The Case Of The Printer's Devil, The
Case Of The Chinese Agent, The War Lord Of The Air, Through The Shaving
Mirror, The Tarot Murder Case, The Case Of The Dreamthief's Daughter, and many
other best-selling "thrillers" of crime and the supernatural.



CHAPTER ONE
MESSAGE FROM MUNICH

It was, or would be, the misty autumn of 1931. A suite of comfortable bachelor apartments in the highest tower of
London's exclusive Sporting Club Square.
Sir Seaton Begg, former MI5 special operator now metatemporal investigator, reached across the fire-grate,
singeing the sleeve of his smoking jacket. As he examined the silk, his aquiline, unconventionally handsome features
were illuminated by the fire.
"What d'you make of that, Taffy?"
John "Taffy" Sinclair, Begg's best and oldest friend, and the leading Home Office pathologist, accepted the
rectangle of yellow paper. The balding giant had the mild but sturdy rectitude of an East End bishop. Balancing a cup
of Darjeeling in one hand, he sank back into the depths of his armchair to read. Moments later, with an impatient
expression, he set the telegram aside.
"The National Socialists?" Taffy frowned. "Sort of German Mus-solini-ites? Aren't they even worse than the
commies for going around beating up honest citizens? And, of course, there's that lunatic anti-Jewish muck."
Begg smiled a familiar, almost sly, smile. "I gather they will restore 'German pride' and so forth, meaning, no doubt,
the military. A very attractive message to the heavy industrialists, naturally, who find more profit in swords than
ploughshares." He lifted delicate bone china to his full, masculine lips. "The armorers and their jackals."
Like Sinclair, Begg supported world disarmament under the League of Nations and was disappointed when
Woodrow Wilson had been forced to placate the parochial exigencies of his Congress by quitting the League.
Begg continued with some emphasis. "Look here, Taffy, read that thing again and let me know any other names
you recognize, apart from their Little Corporal destined to become their German Napoleon."
"You mean that awful oik who looks like Charlie Chaplin? Musso's effeminate pal Mr. Hitler? The Nazi general
secretary or whatever he styles himself. Nothing new, is it?"
"I'd agree he seems to be preaching a familiar line of 1'intoxica-tion special." Sinclair reached a taper into the fire
and relit his pipe. "These chaps have been getting more dangerous since the successes of Primo Riviera and
Mussolini, of course." He puffed heroically on his briar.
"I agree, old man." Begg glanced into the fire. For an instant his eyes burned an angry red. "Come on, Taffy. Be a
pal and glance at that wire again."
Reluctantly, Sinclair adjusted his spectacles. "Well, Hess is a pretty common German name. But don't you know a
Baron von Hess? Some sort of relative of your cousin, Count von Bek?"