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

"Charming." M was neither particularly annoyed nor amused. "I must say, the delight is mine—meeting so notable a recruit to this newest generation of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Thank you for joining us."

"League of… what?" Quatermain asked.

M turned more gas knobs, and the isolated chamber was fully illuminated in dramatic pools of flickering gaslight. A long table was surrounded by sumptuous leather chairs. "This is a most exclusive society, Mr. Quatermain. Membership is rather difficult to come by."

The old adventurer was not enamored with the honor. He had just left the destroyed Britannia Club and had wasted many days and nights in travel; he had no intention of coming all this way to London just to become part of another gentlemens' society. "I believe I've made a mistake in coming here."

"You will make a bigger mistake if you leave." M did not rise from his chair. "Come, look around. It will give me a chance to explain."

The meeting room of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was filled with exquisite sculptures, priceless paintings, the finest furniture. The paraphernalia seemed more mysterious and intriguing than the pompous relics in the main halls of the museum above.

"You see, Mr. Quatermain," M said, "there have been many times when a danger upon the world required the service of singular individuals." With a cadaverous smile, he gestured to group portraits of various adventurers from history lumped together in their approximate eras. Quatermain recognized many of them, and saw that he was in distinguished company indeed.

"The task has fallen to me to assemble another group of heroes for our modern age. I am pleased to count you among them."

"It's like a shrine," the adventurer said, not liking the idea. He looked up at a portrait of swarthy Richard Burton dressed as an Arab. "How very curious."

"In its main exhibit halls and here in the private chambers, this museum is full of the curious." M looked over Quatermain's shoulder, suddenly smiling as another man entered. "And the extraordinary. Allan Quatermain, please meet Captain Nemo."

Quatermain turned to see a thin and shadowy man quietly closing the door. He moved with the silent grace of a cat, and his face wore the hard expression of an age-wearied man, though he looked to be only about fifty years old. Nemo was very distinguished in a blue uniform that combined elements of naval captain and Indian nabob, with a sash tied at his waist. His skin was dark tan, and his full dark beard extended to his heart. The blue turban on his head further marked his Indian heritage.

"I know of Mr. Quatermain," Nemo said, without giving further details. His voice was deep and smooth, like cool molasses.

"And I know of you, Captain," Quatermain countered. "Rumor has it that you are a pirate."

Nemo turned a set of black eyes on him. He crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. "I'd prefer a less provocative title."

"I'm sure you would."

M watched the two men, bemused, as if he saw visible lines of tension in the air. He smiled.

"From one such as you, certainly, who stands as a symbol of the British Empires domination of foreign lands—" Nemo began.

"I am neither a symbol, nor a slaver," Quatermain interrupted. His nostrils flared. He himself had seen the excesses of colonial oppression, downtrodden natives, cultures and societies railroaded into conformity "for their own good" by the White Man's Burden.

Nemo noted his reaction with approval and reconsidered his initial assessment. "Perhaps I have made a premature assumption. I have sufficient enemies in the world. I do not need to make more."

Quatermain backed off and turned his attention to another portrait. "I'm rather surprised, Nemo—knowing your history—that you agreed to this enterprise. You struck me as being an… independent sort."

"Independence? Yes. I seek my peoples release from the British Empire."

From his overstuffed chair, M explained, "In return for Captain Nemo's aid, we'll open a dialogue with the Indian government."

"That is reason enough, I suppose," Quatermain said.

"One reason," corrected Nemo.

"And the other?" Quatermain asked.