"Ludlum, Robert - The Parcifal Mosaic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

impressions without comment. He had toprofessionally. He had learned the
truth, the stretch of beach on the Costa Brava w confirmation of her guilt,
proof of her crimes. The hysterical woman below was a killer, an agent for
the infamous Voennaya Kontra Razvedka, the savage branch Qf the Soviet KGB
that spawned terrorism everywhere. That was the truth; it was undeniable.
He had seen it all, talked with Washington from Madrid. The rendezvous
 6ROBERT LUDLUM

that night had been ordered by Moscow, the purpose being the delivery by VKR
Field Officer Jenna Karas of a schedule of assassinations to a faction of
the Baader-Meinhof at an isolated beach called Montebello, north of the town
of Blanes. That was the truth.
It did not set him free. Instead, it bound him to another truth, an
obligation of his profession. Those who betrayed the living and brokered
death had to die. No matter who, no matter ... Michael Havelock had made
the decision, and it was irrevocable. He had set the last phase of the trap
himself, for the death of the woman who briefly bad given him more
happiness than tiny other person on earth. His love was a killer; to permit
her to live would mean the killing of hundreds, perhaps thousands.
What Moscow did not know was that Langley had broken the VKR codes. He
himself had sent the last transmission to a boat a half-mfle off the Costa
Brava shoreline. KGB confirmation. Officer contact compromised by U.S.
Intelligence. Schedules false. Eliminate. The codes were among the most
unbreakable; they would guarantee elimination.
. She was rising now. Her slender body rose above the shoulder of sand and
dirt. It was going to happen! The woman about to die was his love: they had
held each other and there had been quiet talk of a lifetime together, of
children, of peace and the splendid comfort of being one-together. Once he
had believed it all, but it was not to be.

They were in bed, her head on his chest, her soft blond hair falling across
her face. He brushed it aside, lifting up the strands that concealed her
eyes, and laughed.
You~re hiding," he said.
"It seem we're always hiding," she replied, smiling sadly. 'Except when we
wish to he seen by people who should see us. We do nothing that we simply
want to. Everything is calculated, Mikhail. Regimented. We live in a
movable prison."
"It hasret been that long, and it won't last forever."
'I suppose not. One day they'll find they doret need us, don!t want us any
longer, perhaps. Will they let us go, do you thinkP Or will we disappear?*
"Washington's not Prague. Or Moscow. We'll walk out of our movable prison,
me with a gold watch, you with some kind of sileW decoration with your
papers "
 THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC7

"Are you sure? We know a great deal. Too much, perhaps."
Our protection lies in what we do know. What I know. They'll always wonder:
Did he unite it down somewhereP Take care, watch him, be good to him ...
les not unusual, really. We'll walk out."