"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 290 - Death has Grey Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Shaking off his own reflection rather than Greug's hypnotic stare, Dick
swung from the mirror.
"Who chose me?" he demanded. "Eric Henwood?"
"He recommended you," replied Greug. "Eric was just one of numerous
agents
deputed to find a double for Friedrich. The coming generation of Nazis do not
intend to make the mistake that their fathers did with Hitler."
"What has that to do with me?"
"Very much. It was decided that the future Fuehrer should be allowed to
thrive on foreign soil and return as a conquering hero, well-acquainted with
the world, at the time his day arrives. To accomplish this, he would have to
live as someone else."
"So I was to be the front and play the stooge for the next twenty years
-"
"You overestimate your importance," interposed Greug, his tone cold in
its
irony. "Your existence was to cease immediately. Friedrich Von Reichfrid was
to
become Richard Whitlock in fact, until the day when he could declare himself."
It was clear now, except for Dick's abandonment in the doomed chalet, and
Doctor Greug was coming to that matter.
"My task was more distasteful than yours," stated Greug, in that dry way
of his. "I was requested to probe your past and it was one of those requests I
could not refuse. I was also to groom Friedrich for the part he was to play."
"If he was to be me," put in Dick, "why did I hear him squealing like a
stuck pig?"
"He was looking to the future," replied Greug, "practicing some of the
speeches he expects to make about the year nineteen sixty-five."
"Rather a pretentious chap, this Friedrich."
"He was trying to imitate his idol, one Herr Hitler, but he realized that
the example might not exist long enough to be copied later."
Greug's smile of contempt brought a flash-back to Dick's mind. He was
remembering the crash of Hitler's picture when the bombing knocked it from the
wall and he recalled the disdain that Greug had registered then.
Still smiling, Greug was pouring two glasses of wine. He extended one to
Dick, raised the other to his lips, and declared gravely:
"To the memory of the future Fuehrer."
"You mean Friedrich -"
Greug's nod interrupted as he finished his sip.
"Yes, Friedrich is dead," completed the crisp-faced doctor. "It was your
life or his. I found my opportunity to preserve the right one."
"For which I am grateful, Doctor Greug."
"You need not be." Greug's tone was crisply indifferent. "Lacking
sympathy
with the scheme, I took the one course which I knew would destroy it. The
Underground had learned that there was something important happening at the
obscure mountain chalet and through them, bombers were sent there.
"I was prepared for the occurrence, thanks to my connections with the
Underground. I arranged for Friedrich to be in the chalet and I removed you in
his stead. Since I was considered to be a loyal Nazi - a misconception which I