"O'Donnell, Peter - Modesty Blaise 12 - Cobra Trap" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Peter)

"Yes. What's more important, Mam'selle does, so you'd bloody well better be, hadn't you?"
"Well... yes, if she says so. What about Krolli and the others?"
"They have no say in it, Willie. But I've told them, and they're pleased. It's good for The Network, and they're all in favour of that. It's our living, isn't it? Oh, and don't worry about the paperwork." Garcia gestured around the office. "I take care of all administration and office staff. You'll be in charge of training, planning and operations all under Mam'selle's supervision, of course."
Willie got up, pacing across the big office and back to the desk. "Rafa...?"
"That's me. Go ahead."
"I reckon you put in a good word for me. Thanks."
Garcia grinned. "Selfinterest. I confirmed her opinion, that's all." The grin faded. "Now let's get to the difficult bit, and for that we go back a couple of years. Did you know that Moulay used to have a daughter?"
Moulay was the man in charge of Modesty Blaise's house, Pendragon, among the hills west of Tangier, a combination of chef, butler and general factotum, with two or three staff who lived out. Willie shook his head, surprised by Garcia's question. "I didn't even know Moulay was married."
"His wife died some years ago. When Mam'selle bought Pendragon and engaged Moulay she took his daughter on as a personal maid. Her name was Lisette, and she was sixteen." Garcia gave a wry smile. "I suppose about three years younger than Mam'selle herself at the time, but I think Mam'selle sometimes felt as old as God in comparison. You wouldn't wonder. Anyway, Lisette was a really nice kid, and Mam'selle liked her a lot."
Willie said, "That figures. She 'as to come on like 'ickory and steel to run us lot, but she's still feminine gender. Needs someone to relax with sometimes, who doesn't? Be nice if she could let 'er hair down with another girl once in a while. Can't do it with us."
Garcia regarded him with interest. "I thought I was the only one who could see that. But maybe you're only almost right, Willie." He seemed about to follow the trend of his last words, then frowned and said briskly, "Anyway, the girl meant a lot to Mam'selle, and one afternoon in the Rue Picard she was stabbed to death by a couple of junkies for the few francs in her purse."
Willie said, "Oh, Jesus. Then what?"
"Two policemen chased and cornered them. One of the junkies went for the policemen with a knife, and they shot him dead. The other's in gaol for ever. But they were nothing, Willie. Even victims, maybe. Bellman was the real killer."
"Bellman? The Port Said drug pedlar? But I 'eard Mam'selle took Krolli and a task force there to sort 'im out just before I joined."
Garcia said, "She did. And the year before that he was operating out of Tangier. He specialises in organising teams to get young kids hooked, and he had a monopoly at this end of the Mediterranean. So Mam'selle smashed the whole setup. It wasn't easy, and she had to kid herself a little. I mean she won't risk Network people unless it's for the safety or benefit of the organisation- which was true concerning Bellman because it gave us a healthy credit with Inspector Hassan. Anyway, Bellman moved to Port Said and in about a year he'd got a new organisation running. So like you heard, she took a team and smashed that too."
Willie smiled. "Safety of The Network."
Garcia looked hard at him. "We have an office there, and if she did have to kid herself a little more, so what? Isn't she entitled to a few little whims, for Christ's sake?"
Willie said, "I wasn't knocking 'er, Rafa. I was enjoying what you told me. Whatever whims she's got, I love 'em. I wouldn't want 'er different."
Garcia relaxed. "Okay, then. So she's chased Bellman out of North Africa and Middle Eastern territory, but he's still alive and you haven't asked why."
Willie scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Well, we don't do assassinations. She wouldn't mind putting the bastard down if he came at 'er, but she wouldn't do a cold killing and she wouldn't order one. So I suppose Bellman left 'is muscle to fight it out, and when they cracked he just 'ad it away on 'is toes."
"Right," said Garcia. "Bellman probably kills a few thousand people a year with drugs, but he doesn't get his hands dirty. And now he's moved to new territory where we can't as yet claim to have an interest. He's settled in Peru, operating from a base near Lima, and next week Mam'selle is going after him again. Solo."
Willie stiffened, the normally amiable blue eyes suddenly hard and alert. "To do what?"
Garcia spread his hands. "God knows. She says it's a personal matter. I'd guess she means to force him to come at her somehow, and then put him away, but I don't know how, and I'm worried sick. So I'm relying on you, Willie. I want you to see her and persuade her to take you with her."
"Me persuade 'er?" Willie shook his head anxiously. "I'll go with 'er all right, but you'll 'ave to fix it. You can't let 'er go solo on this, Rafa, we could lose 'er."
"I've tried", Garcia said quietly, "and she won't listen." He moved round the desk to face Willie, looking at him intently. "There's something special about you, young Garvin. Something she can see in you. I can't name it, maybe neither can she. It's not your bright blue eyes and manly figure but it's there. I think you're the only one who can do this for us, and you've got to try. I can't tell you how, just go away and figure it. You've got an instinct, so use it."
Willie Garvin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Garcia went back to his chair. A minute passed in silence, then Willie said in a low voice, "Christ, we mustn't loose 'er."
He moved to the door, and as he reached it Garcia said, "Willie." When he turned, waiting, Garcia went on, "I wasn't going to say this now, but I will. If she lives, The Network will thrive. We'll all get richer than we've ever dreamt of. But sometime in the next ten years, maybe less, she'll close this organisation down. Between now and then she's going to need a friend, a close friend. It can't be me or any of the others. Our relationship is set. But it could be you. It could well be you because your relationship is developing. She does combat workouts with you, and I think the chemistry's right." He glared suddenly, chin thrust forward. "Don't read anything bloody stupid into what I'm saying. Don't start getting fancy ideas. She's untouchable. You understand me?"
Willie was looking at him, openmouthed. "Me? Jesus, Rafa, you gone off your trolley? I couldn't even think of 'er like that." His shock became tinged with anger. "What she's done for me, she's given me a life to live. She's... I mean, she's... you know." He gestured helplessly.
"She's the Princess," Garcia said softly. "That's fine, Willie. Keep it so, and remember what I said. The Princess needs a friend."

* * *

The villa stood on a hillside, facing down a pineclad slope to the sea. When Modesty Blaise bought it she had renamed it Pendragon, a name from the Arthurian legends. This was in memory of Lob, the old Jewish professor from Budapest, a refugee with whom she had roamed the Middle East throughout her teens, protecting him, providing for him, and being educated by him.
She was thinking of him now as she rose from the desk in her study and moved to the window overlooking the gardens and the pool. Three years and more since she had buried him in the desert, but she still missed him, for since losing Lob she had been without a companion. For a female of her age to create and control The Network had called for a rigid distancing of herself from the men who served her. This was the price of survival and she had paid it willingly, but there were times when she would have been deeply thankful for a chance to relax, to talk easily and without having to maintain her Network persona, as she had talked with Lob throughout the long days and nights of their wanderings.
It was early evening, the air was warm and the pool inviting. Weary of the paperwork on her desk, she was tempted to forget it and spend half an hour in the pool when she saw a small car take the curve in the road that ran past the gates of Pendragon. It was Willie Garvin's car, and she felt surprise tinged with pleasure at the sight of it. He had made no appointment to see her here at the villa, yet she found herself hoping that he was not just passing but in fact had some reason to call.
She was at her desk when the intercom buzzed a minute later and Moulay's voice said, "Mr Garvin is here, Mam'selle. He apologises for the intrusion but would be grateful if you could spare him a few minutes on an urgent matter."
She decided that a pretence of annoyance was unnecessary, and said, "All right, Moulay. Send him up, please."
While she waited it occurred to her that Garcia would have told him of his promotion and he might wish to thank her... but no, Willie Garvin was far too intelligent to describe that as urgent. There came a tap on the door, and when he entered in response to her call she once again found herself marvelling at the difference between this man and the man he had been when she bought him out of a Thai gaol only a year ago. Despair had been replaced by zestful confidence, and he had given her brilliant service in a variety of Network operations.
She nodded to the easy chair facing her desk and said, "Hallo, Willie. Sit down."
"Thanks, Princess. I 'ope this isn't putting you out."
"Well, not so far. I like dealing with urgent matters before they get worse." She studied him, intrigued to see that he was nervous, as he had not been from that moment a year ago when she had given him a place in The Network. "I take it Garcia's told you you're to run in tandem with him from now on?"
"He told me this morning. I'm really grateful."
"You've more than earned it. Now what's come up to bring you here in a hurry?"
He rubbed a hand across his mouth in a troubled gesture. "It's difficult. I don't know 'ow to..." he broke off, shaking his head. "Well, I need a favour, Princess. A big one."
She felt surprise and disappointment. "Money?"
"Oh blimey, no. You pay me 'andsomely, and then there's the bonuses, and I don't spend a lot. I'm well, I need your permission for something."
She leaned back in her chair, not allowing her puzzlement to show. So it wasn't money. Good. But what then? An idea for a Network job? If so, why the obvious unease? She said, "Permission for what?"
He started to speak, stopped, looked away, then sat in troubled silence. After a while she said, "Willie?"
He sighed, and looked at her again. "It's no good, Princess. I'd better leave it." He got to his feet. "I shouldn't 'ave come. I'm sorry."
She said sharply, "Sit down, please." When he slowly obeyed she sat looking past him, her mind racing as she sought a decision. Impossible to guess what the favour he wanted might be, but of two things she was utterly certain. First, that it would not be to her personal detriment, and second, that it would not be to the detriment of The Network. After thirty seconds she came to a conclusion and said, "All right, you've got your favour. Now what is it?"