"Дон Пендлтон. Doomsday Disciples ("Палач" #49) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Something fell into place in his eyes. A screen of caution.
"Can I help you?"
"You can ask me in, Karpetyan."
That registered, but he recovered quickly like a pro, his reaction
barely noticeable.
"There must be some mistake."
"Of course."
Bolan brushed past him. Carter frowned, but merely closed and locked
the door.
Taking the lead, Bolan moved into a living room furnished with subdued
elegance. Carter followed, keeping his distance, eyes never leaving the
intruder.
Bolan made a show of checking out the room. The smile he turned on
Carter was a mixture of appreciation and contempt.
"Excellent, Karpetyan. You've captured the perfect bourgeois
decadence."
The lawyer stiffened, frown deepening, and Bolan saw he had touched a
tender nerve.
"Who are you?" Carter demanded.
But there was something in the attitude that said he knew the answer.
"Names aren't important," Bolan replied. "All that matters is the
mission."
This time, Carter didn't speak. He stood silent, watching Bolan,
waiting.
Bolan took his time lighting a cigarette, letting Carter's imagination
work. When he spoke, his tone was conversational.
"You've done well for yourself," he said. "What have you done for the
Party?"
Carter smelled a trap. His eyes narrowed as he answered.
"Everything is happening on schedule."
Bolan dropped the plastic smile and let his voice go frosty.
"Too much is happening," he said. "You're losing it."
The lawyer tried to be casual, but missed by a mile.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"That's the trouble," Bolan told him. "You've been out of touch."
"You think so?"
Carter didn't try to veil the sarcasm in his voice.
"I hope so," Bolan said. "Otherwise..." And he left the bait dangling
there.
Carter snapped it up.
"Otherwise what!"
Bolan jerked the line, securing his hook.
"Well... careless is one thing. Disloyal is something else."
Carter's jaw dropped, the color drained out of his face. It took a
moment for his voice to surface.
"Am I accused of something?"
Bolan shrugged.
''That depends on you."
"I see."
But he plainly didn't, which was fine with Bolan. He let the guy sweat