"Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 2 - The Golem's Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stroud Jonathan)

sorts. The problem of the Resistance was preying on his mind.

As he ladled strong fruit punch from a silver tureen in a corner of the garden, he noticed a young
woman standing close by. After eyeing her warily for a moment, Nathaniel made what he hoped was
an elegant gesture. "I understand you had some success recently, Ms. Farrar. Please accept my
congratulations."

Jane Farrar murmured her thanks. "It was only a small nest of Czech spies. We believe they had
come in by fishing boat from the Low Countries. They were clumsy amateurs, easily spotted. Some
loyal commoners raised the alarm."

Nathaniel smiled. "You are far too modest. I heard that the spies led the police on a merry dance
around half of England, killing several magicians in the process."

"There were a few small incidents."

"It is a notable victory, even so." Nathaniel took a small sip of punch, pleased with the
backhanded nature of his compliment. Jane Farrar's master was the police chief Mr. Henry Duvall, a
great rival of Jessica Whitwell. At functions such as this, Ms. Farrar and Nathaniel often exchanged
feline conversation, all purred compliments and carefully sheathed claws, testing each other's mettle.

"But what of you, John Mandrake?" Jane Farrar said, sweetly. "Is it true that you've been
assigned responsibility for uncovering this irritating Resistance? That is no small matter either!"

"I am only amassing information; we have a network of informers to keep busy. It is nothing too
exciting."
 Jane Farrar reached for the silver ladle and stirred the punch gently. "Perhaps not, but unheard
of for someone as inexperienced as you. Well done. Would you care for another tot?"

"Thank you, no." With annoyance, Nathaniel felt the color rush to his cheeks. It was true, of
course: he was young, he was inexperienced; everyone was watching to see whether he failed. He
fought back a strong desire to scowl. "I believe we will see the Resistance broken within six months,"
he said thickly.

Jane Farrar poured punch into a glass and raised her eyebrows at him with an expression that
might have been amusement. "You impress me," she said. "Three years they've been hunted, without
anything like a breakthrough. And you will break them within six months! But you know, I believe you
can do it, John. You are quite a little man already."

Another flush! Nathaniel tried to master his emotions. Jane Farrar was three or four years older
than he was, and just as tall, perhaps taller, with long, straight, light brown hair hanging to her
shoulders. Her eyes were a disconcerting green, alive with wry intelligence. He could not help feeling
gawky and inelegant beside her, despite the splendors of his ruffed red handkerchief. He found
himself trying to justify his statement, where he should have kept silent.

"We know the group consists mainly of youths," he said. "That fact has been repeatedly
observed by victims, and the one or two individuals we have managed to kill have never been older
than us." (He placed a light stress on this last word.) "So the solution is clear. We send agents out to
join the organization. Once they have won the traitors' trust, and gained access to their leader... well,
the matter will be over swiftly."