"Anderson, Kevin J - The League of Extraordinary Gentleman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

Reed shook his head, his face paler than usual. "They must have learned I was coming for you. They wanted to kill you before you could offer to help."

"Obviously," said Quatermain.

They dismounted, striding forward like conquerors. The wounded assassin looked at them with fanatical determination, then used his one good arm to fumble desperately in his pockets. His other shoulder was a smashed and bloody ruin from the elephant gun.

"It's no use, man," Reed told him. "We'll get you to a doctor, and then to jail."

Finally, the assassin found a pill in his rumpled pocket and pulled it free with blood-spattered fingers.

Quatermain rushed forward. "Step him! We need the information!"

He grabbed the mans wrist, but it was too late. The assassin bit down on the pill with a smug smile that instantly transformed into a pain-wracked grimace as he died.

Cursing, Quatermain dropped the man's wrist in disgust. The crowd looked at him in awe, but the old adventurer wanted no part of them.

After all that had happened, Reed did not forget his primary mission. He cleared his throat. "You may have no love for the empire, Mr. Quatermain, but I know you love Africa." He gestured around him, as if there might be something admirable to be found in Nairobi. "A war in Europe will spread to its colonies—"

Suddenly, behind them, the Britannia Club exploded.

Flames erupted through the door and roof; windows shattered. Splinters flew up into the air. The support beams toppled, and the whole structure groaned, then collapsed into an inferno.

Quatermain stared, his lips curled downward in a frown.

No longer interested in the assassins motionless body, the crowd of natives turned their attention to the explosion. Shouting with excitement, they rushed toward the Brittania Club to help, or at least watch from up close.

Quatermain's eyes were steely as he watched his home burn.

"It appears the war has already arrived here," Reed finished. "You cant hide from it, Quatermain."

"All right. I'm in," the old adventurer said. "Damn…"

Reed smiled. "Excellent. Pack for an English summer."

With a smug look, the young bureaucrat strode away to the waiting buggy. The driver hadn't moved from his seat, watching all the excitement with bemused interest.

As he took two steps to follow, Quatermain hesitated, then looked back toward the African veldt, with its open skies and waving grasses. Thunderheads were gathering over the windswept plains.

Near the burning wreckage of the old Britannia Club, the forlorn, crumbling graveyard stood against the magnificent vista, and Quatermain thought of all the friends, acquaintances, lovers he had buried there.

It was time to leave.
FIVE
London, Albion Museum
Tottenham Court Road

Under torrential rain, a hansom cab drove north from Oxford Street. The driver tilted his derby, and cold water poured off the brim onto his already drenched lap. The rubberized fabric of his mackintosh was proof against the downpour, but the water found ways to creep between the folds of his coat and down his trouser legs into his shoes.

Nevertheless, the driver maintained his good cheer. His grin was sincere as he called down into the cab at his fare. "Nice day for doing, eh sir?" As if anyone could carry on a conversation with the din of the drumming rain and the clopping and splashing of the horses hooves on the wet cobblestones.