Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

and the girl spoke quickly to her companion in foreign, slightly

guttural language which touched a deep chord in David's memory.  He

understood what she was saying, so it was no surprise when she looked at

him.

We've got to meet somebody in Barcelona this evening.  It's important.

Let's go, said David.

They piled the luggage into the Mustang and the girl's companion folded

up his long legs and piled into the back seat.  His name was Joseph, but

David was advised by the girl to call him Joe.  She was Debra, and

surnames didn't seem important at that stage.  She sat in the seat

beside David, with her knees pressed together primly and her hands in

her lap.  With one sweeping glance, she assessed the Mustang and its

contents.  David watched her check the expensive luggage, the Nikon

camera and Zeiss binoculars in the glove compartment and the cashmere

jacket thrown over the seat.  Then she glanced sideways at him, seeming

to notice for the first time the raw silk shirt with the slim gold

Piaget under the cuff.

Blessed are the poor, she murmured, but still it must be pleasant to be

rich.

David enjoyed that.  He wanted her to be impressed, he wanted her to

make a few comparisons between himself and the big muscular buck in the

back seat.

Let's go to Barcelona, he laughed.

David drove quietly through the outskirts of the town, and Debra looked

over her shoulder at Joe.

Are you comfortable?  she asked in the guttural language she had used

before.

If he's not, he can run behind, David told her in the same language, and

she gawked at him a moment in surprise before she let out a small

exclamation of pleasure.  Hey!  You speak Hebrew!  Not very well, David

admitted. I've forgotten most of it, I and he had a vivid picture of

himself as a ten-year-old, wrestling unhappily with a strange and

mysterious language with back-to-front writing, an alphabet that was

squiggly tadpoles and in which most sounds were made in the back of the

throat, like gargling.

Are you Jewish?  she asked, turning in the seat to confront him.  She

was no longer smiling; the question was clearly of significance to her.

David shook his head.  No, he laughed at the notion.  I'm a

half-convinced non-practising monotheist, raised and reared in the

Protestant Christian tradition_a__ Then why did you learn Hebrew?  My

mother wanted it, David explained, and felt again the stab of an old

guilt.  She was killed when I was still a kid.  I just let it drop.  It

didn't seem important after she had gone.  Your mother, Debra insisted,

leaning towards him, she was Jewish?  Yeah.  Sure, David agreed.  But my

father was a Protestant.  There was all sorts of hell when Dad married

her.  Everyone was against it, but they went ahead and did it anyway.

Debra turned in the seat to Joe.  Did you hear that he's one of us. 'Oh,

come on!  David protested, still laughing.

Mazaltov, said Joe.  Come and see us in Jerusalem some time.  'You're

Israeli?  David asked, with new interest.

Sabras, both of us, said Debra, with a note of pride and deep

satisfaction.  We are only on holiday here.  'it must be an interesting

country, David hazarded.

Like Joe just said, why don't you come and find out some time, she

suggested off handedly.  You have the right of return Then she changed

the subject.  Is this the fastest this machine will go?  We have to be

in Barcelona by seven.

There was a relaxed feeling between them now, as though some invisible

barrier had been lowered, as though she had made some weighty judgement.

They were out of the city and ahead the open road wound down into the

valley of the Ebro towards the sea.

Kindly extinguish cigarettes and fasten your seat belts, David said, and

let the Mustang go.

She sat very still beside him with her hands folded in her lap and she

stared ahead when the bends leapt at them, and the straights streamed in

a soft blue blur beneath the body of the Mustang.  There was a small

rapturous smile on her mouth and the golden lights danced in her eyes,

and David was moved to know that speed affected her the way it did him.

He forgot everything else but the girl in the seat beside him and the

need to keep the mighty roaring machine on the ribbon of tarmac.

Once when they went twisting down into a dry dusty valley in a series of

tight curves and David snaked the Mustang down into it with his hands

darting from wheel to gear leaver, and his feet dancing heel and toe on

the foot pedals, she laughed aloud with the thrill of it.

They bought cheese and bread and a bottle of white wine at a village

cantina and ate lunch sitting on the parapet of a stone bridge while the

water swirled below them, milky with snow melt from the mountains.

David's thigh touched Debra's, as they sat side by side.  He could feel

the warmth and resilience of her flesh through the stuff of their

clothing and she made no move to pull away.  Her cheeks were flushed a

little brighter than seemed natural, even in the chill little wind that

nagged at them.

David was puzzled by Joe's attitude.  He seemed to be completely

oblivious of David's bird dogging his girl, and he was deriving a

childlike pleasure out of tossing pebbles at the trout in the waters

below them.  Suddenly David wished he would put up a better resistance,

it would make his conquest a lot more enjoyable, for conquest was what

David had decided on.

He leaned across Debra for another chunk of the white, tangy cheese and

he let his arm brush lightly against the tantalizing double bulge of her

bosom.  Joe seemed not to notice.

Come on, you big ape, David thought scornfully.  Fight for it.  Don't

just sit there.  He wanted to test himself against this buck.  He was

big, and strong, and David could tell from the way he moved and held

himself that he was well coordinated and self-assured.  His face was

chunky and half ugly, but he knew that some women liked them that way,

and he was not fooled by Joe's slow and lazy grin, the eyes were quick

and sharp.

You want to drive, Joe?  he asked suddenly, and the slow grin spread

like a puddle of spilled oil on Joe's face - but the eyes glittered with

anticipation.

Don't mind if I do, said Joe, and David regretted the gesture as he

found himself hunched in the narrow back seat.  For the first five

minutes Joe drove sedately, touching the brakes to test for grab and

pull, flicking through the gears to feel the travel and bite of the

stick, taking a burst of power through a bend to establish stability and

detect any tendency for the tail to break out.

Don't be scared of her, David told him, and Joe grunted with a little

frown of concentration creasing his broad forehead.  Then he nodded to

himself and his hands settled firmly, taking a fresh grip, and Debra

whooped as he changed down to get the revs peaking.

He slid the car through the first bend and David's right foot stabbed

instinctively at a non-existent brake pedal and he felt his breathing

jam in his throat.

When Joe parked them in the lot outside the airport at Barcelona and

switched off the engine, all of them were silent for a few seconds and

then David said softly, Son of a gun!

Then they were all laughing.  David felt a tinge of regret that he was

going to have to take the girl away from him, for he was beginning to

like him, despite himself, beginning to enjoy the slow deliberation of