"Van Lustbader, Eric - Angel Eyes(eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)

"I can't think why you haven't patched up your differences by now, darling. He's such an adorable man. Just perfect for-" Some sixth sense caused her to stop. She turned to look over her shoulder, said in a voice so bright it verged on being brittle, "Darling, look who's here!"
And Tori saw Russell Slade brush past her mother, neatly cutting off her own avenue of escape from the library.
"Hello, Tori," he said, just as if nothing had ever happened between them.
Tori, for the moment speechless, looked past him to where her mother still stood in the partly open doorway. Laura Nunn gave Tori a beseeching look, then quietly closed the door.
Russell looked around. "I haven't been here in a long time. It was good to see your mother again. My God, what a magnificent woman she is."
"You've got a set of brass ones," Tori said. "What the hell are you doing here?''
"Could I have a drink, do you think? It's a long drive from the airport."
Tori went to the wet bar along one wall, fixed him a Tom Collins without asking him what he wanted; she already knew. She handed him the drink, and he nodded. He was dressed elegantly but comfortably in a dark blue polo shirt, linen trousers, a beautifully cut lightweight silk jacket. Tori was acutely aware that she was barefoot and dressed like a waif. She seemed at a distinct disadvantage, like a naughty child being interviewed by her father.
"I've come to debrief you," Russell Slade said.
"Debrief me?"
He nodded. "Someone had to do it. I thought it might as well be me. Ariel Solares was one of my best field men. Since you were there when he died, you know it's standard operating procedure that you be debriefed."
"You're the director; you don't know the first thing about debriefing field personnel, they're too far down the food chain."
Russell ignored her sarcasm. "As I said, Solares was one of my best men. I thought it wise if I came myself.''
"Don't bullshit me, Russell. You came here because it was me who was with him.''
"I understand your anger, but-"
"You don't understand one thing about me!" Tori flared.
Russell, taking a sip of his drink, regarded her coolly over the rim of his glass. "In any event, " he said at last, "I've got to talk to you."
"I don't work for you anymore."
He sighed as he took a seat on the leather sofa beside the chair she had been reading in. He picked up her book. "The Nobility of Failure. " He looked at her. "I know this book. It's about Japanese heroes of myth and history, isn't it?" He did not take his eyes off her. "Sit down. Tori, please. I recognize you're angry that I've intruded on your solitude, but I came here because Solares's murder compelled me to come. I think even you can see that. Let's try at least to be civilized, get the interview over with, and call it a day."
"How simple you make it all seem.''
Tori turned away from him, went back to the bar. She selected an oversized glass, dropped in some ice, poured single-malt scotch, then added some water. She recognized that she didn't really want a drink, but she needed to buy herself some time to restore her equilibrium.
"The first thing I'd like to know," she heard him say from across the room, "is if you're all right. You must have been hurt in the explosion, yet the San Francisco police told us that you refused medical treatment."
"That's because I didn't require any," Tori said, taking a sip of scotch, then turning around to face him.
"Not even shock. I see." Russell regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "That would be like you," he said, as if to himself. "You were always adamant about doing everything yourself."
"I am more qualified-"
"Yes, yes, I know. Please let's not get into that all over again."
"What mask do you have on today, Russ?" Tori sat down beside him. "The mask of the invincible administrator, or the master chess player, sacrificing one pawn after another in the bloody field you've never walked through? Or maybe it's your favorite you have on today: the Bernard Godwin protege mask.''
Russell sipped at his ?om Collins. "That's the one you hated most, isn't it," he said, aware of Godwin saying to him. Your relationship with Tori Nunn is all unfinished business. "Because in a way we're victims of sibling rivalry. We both think of ourselves as Bernard's proteges. He never had children, Tori, he made us, instead."
Tori made a disgusted sound, sat back against the sofa, allowed the coolness of the leather to penetrate her T-shirt.
Russell got up, took a walk around the library. This was typical of him; he liked to get the lay of the land. He found the physical and the emotional space inextricably entwined, and he chose the ground for his interviews with meticulous care.
Tori saw him come at length to the French fruitwood table. He ran his hand across the chocolate-colored leather of its top, the brass and green glass banker's lamp, the chased-silver burl cigar humidor given to Tori's father by Samuel Goldwyn. In so doing, Russell passed near enough to touch the box Ariel Solares pressed into her hand just before he had died. Tori held her breath. She had no intention of telling Russell Slade about its existence, either now or in the future. Ariel had given it to her, and she was now its sole guardian.
He turned back to her. ''What the hell happened in San Francisco?"
"Why don't you tell me."
"I don't follow you."
"Ariel Solares was pursuing me."
Russell's face was impassive. "Was he? Well, he had better taste in women than I gave him credit for."
Tori laughed despite herself. "You've gotten better, Russell, I'll give you that." She got up, stood face-to-face with him. "You know Ariel was pursuing me," she said, taking a stab in the twilight. "You sent him after me."
"Now that's an absurd notion."
"I don't think it is," Tori said. "Why else would you come to debrief me personally unless you were running Ariel yourself?"
"It happens that Solares was working on a first-priority mission for us. Actually, I was about to dispatch someone else to debrief you, but in the end decided that mine was the duty, sort of my way of taking responsibility for Ariel's death.''
"That's a pathetic gesture, typical of a desk jockey who knows nothing of the dangers in the field."
"Don't be melodramatic," he said. "The truth is my people go because they want to go, not because I make them.'' He put down his glass on the table beside the box Ariel had given her. "But you already know that."
"What I know is that Ariel was working for you, that his picking me up in Buenos Aires wasn't happenstance. He was waiting for me."
"Well, that's an interesting surprise," Russell said smoothly. "But it's wrong. A bit too Machiavellian."
Tori laughed again. "That's an oxymoronic sentence I'd like to preserve in my diary." She finished off her scotch. "What was Ariel doing for you in Buenos Aires?"
Russell shrugged. "According to you, waiting to lure you into his web.''
"I mean in the tunnels, Russell. The Yakuza assassins. Ariel knew who they were and why they were there. That means you know, too."
"Sure I do, but the information's classified. You don't work for me anymore.''
''Thank God,'' Tori said. "But I have to wonder whether you were ever able to replace me. Skills like mine are invaluable."
"To a very select few.''