"Hall, Adam - The Sinkiang Executive" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hall Adam)

'Descriptions are notoriously vague, you know that.'

He came up to me and stared into my face with his ice-blue eyes and his voice was soft, though not quite steady. 'Even if the police never found you by routine investigation, they'll receive every possible help from the Russian Embassy, however anonymously. Don't you realize that?'

I didn't say anything; it wasn't really a question. He was just getting rid of some shock and setting me up for the pay-off, in whatever form it would take. Of course he was perfectly right about the Russian Embassy: they'd give my description to the police out of sheer indignation. On any given day there are scores of people moving around London with a tag on their tail, with the action concentrated at the embassies and consulates; the Foreign Office and the headquarters of MI5 and DI6 are also under uninterrupted surveillance. The tags are second-class material for the most part: trainees, executives earning their pension after action in the field, sometimes an odd spook who's after someone specific. All the services do it and everyone knows about it and we settle for that; it's the routine chore of keeping tabs on each other in case the pattern changes and we can learn something new. And the thing is that we could all knock each other off if we wanted to, but there wouldn't be any point; we're doing our job and they're doing theirs and if anyone really wants to go somewhere in strict hush then he first makes bloody sure he's got a clean tail.

It's been an unwritten law since the services became organized, and last night I broke it.

'Have you anything to say?' Parkis was asking me.

Wearily I said: 'What like?'

'In your own favour.'

I thought about it.

'Not really.'

He went and sat down behind his desk and now I caught so much of the chill in the air that it reached my spine. I suppose I'd been holding back from the brink that I knew was there, hoping for some kind of luck that'd save me. As Parkis began speaking I knew it was strictly no go.

'I wasn't able to see you the moment you arrived here this morning, Quiller, because I was in emergency conference with Administration. Two decisions were reached. One: that you should be sent out of London as soon as possible and in the utmost secrecy. Two: that your immediate resignation would be received with our unqualified approval. You will draw an overnight bag on your way out of the building, and there is transport waiting for you at the door. Your escort will facilitate your passage through London Airport Immigration as best he can.' He paused briefly. 'Unless, of course, it's already too late.'


Chapter Two

COCKROACH


The black widow dropped lower, until I could see the red hour-glass pattern on its abdomen. Soon it dropped lower again, stopping at intervals, the long thin legs spreading out.

The thread was visible now, very fine and very dark.

I moved my hand.

'Don't do that,' Charlie said quietly.

I kept still. In a moment the spider dropped again, this time to the surface of the bench. Charlie turned the reel quickly, catching the thread fast enough to wind it into a helix on the twin rods.

'They're sensitive,' he said, his voice quiet. 'They don't mind slow movements, but if you move quickly they get upset.' He took the probe and coaxed the spider on to its tip, endlessly patient. It was five minutes before he could lift it on to the reel again, and another five before it began dropping, letting out its thread. 'She's good for one more spin, this one. She's made four today.'

The long pointed legs splayed suddenly and the widow stopped.

'I can feel a draught,' I said.

'So can she.'

He began winding the long reel as the spider dropped at regular intervals, sensing its environment.

'She's out of sorts,' Charlie said, softly crooning. 'They're not normally active in winter.'