Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗
Herman decided that the Count must be a rich man. He had a proper respect for wealth, and it showed in the way he stepped forward, drew himself up, brought his heels together sharply, and then creased his bulging belly in a bow.
"Captain. I came as soon as I received your message." am grateful, Commissioner." Von Kleine returned the salutation. "You will take refreshment?"
"A glass of beer, and..." Herman hesitated, he was certain that somewhere aboard Blucher there must be a treasure trove of rare foods, a bite to eat. I have not eaten since noon." It was now the middle of the afternoon. Von Kleine saw nothing unusual in a two-hour period of abstinence, yet he passed the word for his steward while he opened a bottle of beer for his guest.
"I must congratulate you on your victory over the two English warships, Captain. Magnificent, truly magnificent!" Lying back in one of the leather chairs Fleischer was engaged in mopping his face and neck, and Kyller grinned cynically as he listened to this new tune.
"A victory that was dearly bought," murmured von Kleine, bringing the glass to Fleischer's chair. "And now I need your help."
"Of course! You need only ask." Von Kleine went to his desk, sat down and drew towards him a sheaf of notes. From their chamois leather case, he produced a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and placed them on his nose.
"Commissioner..." he started, but at that moment he completely lost Fleischer's attention. For with a discreet knock the Captain's steward returned with a large, heavily laden carving-plate. He placed it on the table beside Fleischer's chair.
"Sweet Mother of God!" whispered Herman, his eyes glittering, and a fresh sweat of excitement breaking out on his upper lip.
"Smoked salmon!" Neither von Kleine nor Kyller had ever been privileged to watch Herman eat before. They did so now in awed silence. This was a specialist working with skill and dedication. After a while von Kleine made another effort to attract Herman's attention by coughing and rustling his sheaf of notes, but the Commissioner's snuff lings and small moans of sensual pleasure continued. Von Kleine glanced at his lieutenant and lifted a golden eyebrow, Kyller half smiled in embarrassment. It was like watching a man in orgasm, so intimate that von Kleine was obliged to light a cheroot and concentrate his attention on the portrait of his wife and daughter across the cabin.
A gusty sigh signalled Herman's climax, and von Kleine looked at him again. He sagged back in the chair, a vague and dreamy smile playing over the ruddy curves of his face.
The plate was empty, and with the sweet sorrow of a man remembering a lost love, Herman dabbed a forefinger on to the last shred of pink flesh and lifted it to his mouth.
"That was the best salmon I have ever tasted."
"I am pleased that you found it so." Von Kleine's voice crackled a little. He felt slightly nauseated by the exhibition.
"I wonder if I might trouble you for another glass of beer, Captain." Von Kleine nodded at Kyller, and the lieutenant went to refill Fleischer's glass.
"Commissioner. I need at least eight hundred square feet of "/,-inch steel plate delivered to me here. I want it within six weeks," von Kleine said, and Herman Fleischer laughed.
He laughed the way a man laughs at a children's tale of fairies and witches, then suddenly he noticed von Kleine's eyes... and he stopped abruptly.
Tying in Dares So laam harbour under British blockade is the steamer Rheinlander." Von Kleine went on speaking softly and clearly. "You will proceed there as fast as you can.
I will send one of my engineers with you. He will beach the Rheinlander and dismantle her hull. You will then arrange to convey the plating to me here."
"Dares Salaam is one hundred kilometres away." Herman was aghast.
"According to the Admiralty chart it is seventy-five kilometeres," von Kleine corrected him.
"The plating will weigh many tons! "he cried.
"In German East Africa there are many hundreds of thousands of indi genes I doubt not that you will be able to persuade them to serve as porters."
"The route is impossible... and what is more, there is a band of enemy guerrillas operating in the area north of here. Guerrillas led by those same bandits that you allowed to escape from the dhow, off the mouth of this river." In agitation Fleischer had risen from his chair and now he pointed a fat accusing forefinger at von Kleine. "You allowed them to escape. Now they are ravaging the whole province.
If I try to bring a heavily laden, slow moving caravan of porters down from Dares Salaam, word will reach them before I have marched five kilometres. It's madness I won't do it!"
"It seems then, that you have a choice." Von Kleine smiled with his mouth only. "The English marauders, or a firing party on the afterdeck of this ship." "What do you mean? "howled Fleischer.
"I mean that my request is no longer a request, it is now an order. If you defy it, I will immediately convene a court martial." Von Kleine drew his gold watch and checked the time.
"We should be able to dispose of the formalities and shoot you before dark. What do you think, Kyller?"
"It will be cutting things fine, sir. But I think we could manage it." When the Governor of Mozambique had offered Flynn a captaincy in the army of Portugal, there had been an ugly scene. Flynn felt strongly that he deserved at least the rank of colonel. He had suggested terminating their business relationship. The Governor had countered with an offer of major and signalled to his aide de-camp to refill Flynn's glass. Flynn had accepted both offers, but the one under protest. That was seven months ago, a few short weeks after the massacre at Lalapanzi.
