"Destroyer 012 - Slave Safari.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

Lippincott nodded, although he was not sure what the sergeant meant. He understood only that he would be allowed to pay for what happened upstairs, and that was all he wanted to hear.

When Lippincott returned to his hotel, Walla was still missing. He called for him several times, then vowed that when he saw Walla again, the busboy would get a beating to carry on his back for the rest of his life.

The vice-president of the bank offered to supply guards to Lippincott because walking around Busati with $12,000 was not the wisest of courses. "This is not New York City," the banker explained, apologetically and inaccurately.

Lippincott refused. He was sorry three blocks later. One of the many military patrols stopped him and as he reached into his pocket to show his identification and a ten-dollar bill, he must have disclosed the bulk of his cash, for the officer reached into his pocket and took out the envelope of one hundred and twenty hundred-dollar bills.

"That belongs to the house with the iron gate," said Lippincott hoping the power the house seemed to have would extend to the officer. Apparently it didn't, because the officer simply double-checked Lippincott's identification, asked him again if he were indeed James Forsythe Lippincott, then shoved him into the Land Rover and personally drove the vehicle away.

Out of the capital they drove, and along the great Busati River they drove. Darkness fell over the Busati and still they drove on, alone, the rest of the patrol having been ordered to stay back in the city. They drove so far that when they stopped Lippincott swore the stars seemed close, as close and as clear as they must have been when man first descended from the trees.

The officer told Lippincott to get out.

"Look, I can give you twice that amount of money. You don't have to kill me," said Lippincott

"Get out," said the officer.

"I'm a personal friend of the Minister of Public Safety," said Lippincott.

"You'll find him over there behind that wide tree," said the officer. "Go."

So Lippincott, finding the Africa night chilly and his heart even chillier, went to the wide tree that rose like a little prickly mountain from the Busati plain.

"Hello?" he said but no one answered. His elbow brushed up against something on the tree. He looked around. It .was a boot. A leg was in the boot and on top of the leg was a body. The dangling hands were black. The body did not move and it smelled of the last release of the bowels. The body was in an officer's uniform. Lippincott stepped back to escape the smell and to try for a better look at the face. Suddenly a flashlight illuminated the body's features. It was the Minister of Public Safety. A large spike protruded from his head. He had been nailed to the tree.

"Hello, Lippy," said an American voice.

"What?" gasped Lippincott.

"Hello, Lippy. Squat down on your haunches. No, not your butt on the ground. On your haunches, like a slave waiting for his master. On the haunches. That's right. Now, Lippy, before you die, if you're very nice, you may ask me a question."

The flashlight had gone off and now the voice came out of the African dark, and try as he might, Lippincott could not see the speaker.

"Look," he said, "I don't know who you are, but I can make you a rich man. Congratulations on successfully scaring the crap out of me, Now, how much?"

"I've got what I want, Lippy."

"Who are you?"

"Is that your one question?"

"No, my one question is what do you want?"

"All right, Lippy, I'll answer that. I want to revenge my people. I want to be accepted in my father's house."

"I'll buy your father's house. How much?"

"Ah, Lippy, Lippy, Lippy. You poor fool."