"Brian Lumley - E-Branch 1 - Defilers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

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organism on the table. "As for this thing, it's dead and smells, and it should be-"
"It should be burned!" Manolis said, and with a lightning-fast movement arrested her hand. "Don't
touch that thing. Don't you ever touch anything like it!"
"What?" she stared at him in shocked astonishment.
He put her gently aside and said, "I may be wrong, and if so I apologise in advance, but I really
don't think this is any kind of holothurian. I'll see to it that it's incinerated immediately."
Eleni continued to stare at him, following his every movement as he wrapped the organism in the
sheet. "Not a holothurian? So what on earth do you think it is? And if it's in any way connected
with this case-a clue to foul play or some such-why do you intend to burn it? What, you'll destroy
evidence?"
"Our descriptions, from what we've seen, will suffice," he told her. "But one thing is for sure: I
won't be letting anyone cut into this to see what made it tick! Just be happy that it's stopped
ticking, that's all."
"You talk as if it's a bomb!" she answered. "But-"
"No buts," said Manolis. "You've done a good job here. Now I suggest we go back to Krassos town to
our hotel, freshen up a little, and then eat at one of the excellent tavernas. The meal and that
drink I promised you will be on me."
"Well," she shook her head in utter bewilderment. "I suppose you're in charge here, and-"
"Yes, I am," he was pleased to agree. "And now let's find those policemen. I want this body kept
on ice-but deep frozen this time, perhaps in Krassos town. I have friends in London who may want
to see it."
Holding his small white bundle at arm's length, he ushered her out of that place, and as they went
said, "As for your alleged sea slug: you're right about evidence, of course. So we'll photograph
it first-and then I'll burn it!"
Manolis was driving a small Fiat hired from one of the island's many tourist-oriented outlets. At
about 7 P.M., driving in the shade of pine-clad mountains, he passed a stone-walled, gauntly
impressive monastery built on a false plateau where high cliffs fell sheer to the sea.
Concentrating on his driving upon the

winding, contour-clinging road, he took no special note of a larger, heavier private vehicle where
it indicated its driver's intention to pull out of the otherwise empty monastery car park. But as
he sped by, Eleni Barbouris did notice
it.
"On a tiny island like this," she commented, "someone desires yet more privacy."
"Umm?"
"That expensive car back there-the black one, with dark, one-way windows? They can see out,
whoever they are, but no one sees in."
"There are plenty of cars like that in Athens," the inspector answered. "But you're correct: rich
people do seem to enjoy their privacy more than most. Ah, but then, they can afford to! As for
those windows: they're far superior to dark glasses when it comes to keeping the sun out of your
eyes."
"I suppose so," she said. "But here on the eastern side of Krassos, in the shade of these
mountains and the gloomy evening light, they seem so unnecessary."
But Manolis, a frown etching his face, was scarcely listening to her. Instead it was something he
had said that continued to resonate in his mind. So that suddenly he found himself muttering,
"When . . . when it comes to keeping the sun out, yes."