"passagetohell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barton Gary)

as he said:

"You're not getting off this boat at New York, Vale!"

Vale hadn't had to ask questions; he knew what Wagner meant. He knew that Wagner did mean
it! But suddenly he was thinking of those seamen in the hospital in Nassau, and those fifty-four
he had not seen, whose graves were the bottom of the Atlantic.

"The hell you say!" he snarled.

"You're in no position to be tough, Vale," Wagner said smoothly. "Tonight, maybe tomorrow
night; far at sea; the sky will be dark; no one on deck--"

"It would take a bigger man than you--" Vale started to say.

"Oh, no, Vale; you don't got what I mean. I'm not a murderer. But there are ways."

"Listen, Wagner. You're wasting your time. Do you think you can play the United States
government for a sucker? I know what you want; they're in the ship's vault. And whether I leave
this boat or not, they'll be turned over to the state department,"

"Your opinion of my resourcefulness is very unjust, Vale. My plans cover those papers being
in the vault--and also their removal. Now, what is your answer?"

"This--" Vale said. He stepped away from the rail, his face white in the pale-yellow glow of
the deck lights. His fist smashed into Wagner's mouth, and the foreigner fell back into the deck
chairs. He lay there, stunned.

"How do your plans cover that?" Vale snapped.

Wagner pushed himself to a chair, but he didn't get to his feet. He was wiping blood from his
mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dull, like the eyes of an animal: and his voice,
never more than a whisper, was coolly vicious.

"You have a very attractive young wife, I understand. Her name is Alice, isn't it? And also
a baby girl named Barbara. They'll be at the pier to meet you. And there will be two men behind
them: Two men and two guns, Vale!" Wagner climbed to his feet and their was a satanic, Iustful
smile on his thin lips, A mirthless smile, because it wasn't funny; not even to him. "You have
your choice, Vale. If you leave this boat alive--well. it's up to you."

He turned and slowly walked down the deck and disappeared through a midship companionway.


And that was the hell!

The second night, now. But Jimmy Vale had lived ten thousand nights. He hadn't slept: be
couldn't eat. His face was pale and drawn, and his eyes were like sunken pits in a skull. He
was waiting to die.

Wagner had given him a choice: but there was no choice. There was only one way. Suicide,