"O'Donnell, Peter - Modesty Blaise 02 - Sabre-Tooth" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Peter)

The hum of talking faded away as Karz walked up the slope and joined his little group of commanders. He surveyed them with sloe-coloured eyes set in a broad Mongol face beneath a thick basin of short-cropped black hair. The face might have been hewn from brown granite, but it was wholly alive, a face from antiquity, brutal, sagacious and ageless. Behind such a face the mind of Genghis Khan had planned the battles which made him master of an empire stretching from the China Sea to the banks of the Dnieper.
Karz ran his gaze over the men gathered on the slopes, then turned to look at the flat bare platform of rock which formed the arena. Slowly he linked his hands behind his back, planted his booted feet firmly, and was completely still, like a living statue growing from the rock.
Once only, at another time and in another place, Liebmann had seen Karz move fast. Then he had struck a man with his fist, as if using a hammerЧnot a classic or well-placed blow, but it had crushed a four-inch segment of the skull.
Two men had alighted from the back of the jeep. A whispering murmur ran round the arena. Both heads were shaven to the skin and both faces were dull yellow. They stood an inch under six feet, with long arms hanging from broad shoulders. Their legs were thick and a little short for their bodies. Both wore the grey tunic and dark trousers of Karz's commanders. They walked with a smooth but curious rhythm, shoulder to shoulder, their outer arms swinging, their inner arms still, with thumbs hooked into belts.
As they drew nearer, Liebmann could make out the strange shoulder-harness linking them together. It was of heavy plaited leather, fashioned like two pauldrons from a suit of armour, each consisting of a short sleeve and shoulder-piece secured by a strap; the pauldrons were joined by a short bar at the points of the shoulders, a solid roll of leather enclosing a flexible steel-chain core.
Despite the six-inch bar thus linking them at the shoulders, the two men moved easily and without clumsiness.
Carter, squatting on a ridge of rock, watched them join the group with Karz and turn to face the arena. Beside Carter a man with a square brown face whistled softly.
'Those The Twins?' he said with the clipped twang of an Afrikaner.
'You wouldn't think so.' Carter glanced round at his companion. 'Got a fag to spare?'
'No.' The flat refusal held no rancour. 'You been here long, then?'
'Long enough. You?'
'Came in last week. I haven't seen those two till now though.'
'You wouldn't. They've had us out on a week's exercise. I'm in their section.'
'What do they call themselves?'
'One on the left's Lok. The other's Chu.'
'I heard about 'em. I heard three different stories why they walk around joined like that. Is it right they're queer?'
Carter's lips lifted. 'Not much of a way for a couple of queers to be hitched, is it? You've been listening to the new boys.'
The Afrikaner dug into his shirt pocket and slowly brought out a flat tin of cigarettes. He took one out and gave it to Carter, who nodded.
'They were Siamese twins,' Carter said. 'Joined at the shoulder. Grew up like it, see? Then sometime, I don't know when, some quack got busy with the old knife.'
'Separated them?'
'That's right. Big job, but it all goes fine . . . except that when it's all over they go screaming up the wall, see? Running round like chickens with their 'eads chopped off.' Carter drew in a hissing breath of impatience at the other's blank stare. 'They got to be joined or they go nuts.'
The Afrikaner said : 'Jesus ! '
Carter shrugged. 'It's psychological, see?'
'Poor bastards.' There was no feeling in the Afrikaner's voice.
'You don't know the funny bit yet.' Carter looked across at The Twins and his stained teeth showed in a humourless grin. 'They hate each other's guts. Always did, always will. Only time they stop blinding an' swearing at each other is when there's a job onЧlike the exercise last week.' He nodded towards the bare platform of rock. 'Or like now.'
Karz had not moved. The Twins stood to one side and a little behind him, their eyes on a small covered truck making its way down the valley. Slowly Chu took a packet of cigarettes from his tunic and lit one. Lok turned his head and stared with seething eyes. A spasm of hatred contorted his face. He lifted a hand and slapped the cigarette from Chu's lips.
'No' now, you bassar! ' The words were a comic mockery of English, but the venom in them was so shocking to hear that only a sick mind could have been amused.
Chu made an animal noise in his throat. He lifted clawed hands, shook them in an inarticulate frenzy, and dropped them to his sides. For long seconds the two stood with heads turned, glaring at each other, then slowly their faces grew blank and their eyes once more sought the approaching truck.
It was interesting, thought Liebmann, that Karz ignored quarrels between The Twins. He regarded them as one.
Sarrat chuckled softly. 'Do not be impatient, my friends. The medicine you want is coming.'
The truck drew up at the foot of the slope. Two men climbed out of the back. A third followed awkwardly, his hands manacled behind his back. He was a tall man, a Moroccan Spaniard with a powerful body and quick eyes set in a swarthy face. There was a hint of defiance in his walk as he moved up the slope between his two guards.
When he was in the middle of the arena one of them unlocked the handcuffs. The two moved away and the Spaniard was left standing alone, slowly rubbing his wrists.
'Listen,' said Karz, and though he did not lift his voice it carried to every man in the amphitheatre. 'This man is called Vallmanya. He signed articles to serve under me. There were conditions on both sides. You all know these conditions.' The great Mongol head turned slowly, gathering the eyes of all the men who sat on the stepped tiers of stone. There was complete silence.
'This man,' said Karz, 'we find Unsound.' His tone gave the last word a capital letter, a specific meaning. 'He is guilty of using nasswar ... the green tobacco. A drug. Such a matter is dealt with in Article 24 of our agreement. Vallmanya must die. As with all those who may die in action or otherwise, his full pay will go into the pool to be shared between you when our task is completed.'
Liebmann was watching faces, alert for any hint of uneasiness or resentment. He saw none. Some were tense, some eager, some curious. A few showed no more than casual interest. This did not trouble Liebmann; it simply marked the men who had seen everything, to whom the business of killing had ceased to have meaning. They were the hard core of this small army.
Karz said : 'What will you fight with, Vallmanya?'
Vallmanya stared with slitted eyes, not at Karz but at The Twins. 'I fight wit' bayonet,' he said slowly.
Karz turned his head to look at Liebmann. 'We have a sword bayonet?'
'Not on the inventory. There may be one somewhere in the camp------'
'I got one,' Sarrat broke in. 'Under the seat of the jeep. My section jeep. Is better than a knife.'
'Bring it,' said Karz, and Sarrat moved away down the short slope to where half-a-dozen jeeps were now parked.
'So he gets a choice,' the Afrikaner said to Carter.
'Sure. They got all sorts in the truckЧknives, axe, sabre, a length of towing-chain.'
'What's the other fellow use? I mean The Twins.'
'Nothing much. Just a pair of gloves each.'
The Afrikaner shot a suspicious glance at Carter, who grinned and said: 'Straight up. You'll see.'
'You seen this before?'
'Six, seven times. I forget. The last bloke chose a machete.'
The Afrikaner ruminated for a while, watching the lonely man in the middle of the arena. At last he said: 'What happens if he wins?'
'Well...' Carter studied his cigarette, elaborately casual. 'He's tough, Vallmanya. Want a little bet on 'im? I don't mind a long shot.'