Cry Wolf - Smith Wilbur (читать хорошую книгу полностью txt) 📗
leave only a modest profit for my partner and myself to share." The
Prince showed his appreciation with a gracious gesture.
"Two thousand pounds each," said Gareth quickly, running the words
together to make it sound less shocking, but still Jake almost choked
on a mouthful of whisky soda.
The Prince nodded thoughtfully. "I see," he said. "That is probably
five times the actual value." Gareth looked shocked. "Your
Excellency-" But the Prince silenced him with a raised hand.
"During the last six months, I have spent a great deal of time
inspecting and pricing various items of military equipment. My dear
Swales, please don't insult us both by protesting." There was a long
silence and the atmosphere in the cabin was taut as guitar strings then
the Prince sighed.
"I could price those weapons but I could not buy. The great powers of
the world have denied me that right the right to defend my country
against the predator." There was an age of weariness in the dark eyes
and smooth brow furrowed with thought. "My country is landlocked, as
you know, gentlemen. We do not have access to the sea.
All imports must come through the territories of French and British
Somaliland or Italian Eritrea. Italy the predator or the French and
the British who have placed us under embargo." Lij Mikhael sipped at
the drink in his hand, and then frowned into the depths of the glass,
as though it were a crystal ball and he could read the future there.
"The great powers are prepared to deliver us to the Fascist tyrant,
with our sword hand empty and trussed behind our back." He sighed
again heavily and then looked up at Gareth. His expression changed.
"Major Swales, you have offered me a collection of worn and obsolete
vehicles and weapons at many times their actual value. I am a
desperate man. I must accept your offer and the price you demand."
Gareth relaxed slightly and glanced at Jake.
"I must even accept your condition that payment be made in British
sterling." Gareth smiled now. "My dear fellow-" he began, but again
the Prince silenced him with a raised hand.
"In turn I impose only one condition. It is vital to my acceptance of
your offer. You and your partner, Mr. Barton, will be responsible for
the delivery of all these weapons into the territory of
Ethiopia. Payment will be made only when you hand over the shipment to
me or my agent within the borders of his Imperial Majesty, hail
Selassie."
"Good God, man," exploded Gareth. "that involves smuggling them
through hundreds of miles of hostile territory. That's ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous, Major Swales? I think not. Your merchandise is of no
value to me or to you in Dares Salaam. I am your only customer nobody
else in the entire world would be foolish enough to buy it from you. On
the other hand, any attempt that I should make to import it into my
homeland would certainly be frustrated. I am being watched carefully
by agents of all the major powers. I know I shall be searched the
moment that I land at Jibuti. Lying here, the merchandise has no
value." He" paused and glanced from Gareth to Jake. Jake rubbed his
jaw thoughtfully.
"I see your point, Your Excellency."
"You are a reasonable man, Mr.
Barton," said the Prince, and then returned his attention to Gareth,
and repeated his last statement. "Lying here it has no value. In
Ethiopia, it is worth fifteen thousand British sovereigns to you. The
choice is yours. Abandon it or get it into Ethiopia."
"I am appalled," said Gareth solemnly, as he paced back and forth.
"I mean, after all the fellow is an old Etonian.
God, I can hardly believe that he would welsh on our agreement.
It's absolutely frightful. I mean, I trusted him." Jake was sprawled
on the couch in Madame Cecile's private room. He had shed his
dinner-jacket, and perched on his knee there was a plump young lady
with a cap of brassy blonde hair. She was dressed in a flimsy daffodil
coloured dress, the skirts of which had pulled up to show bright blue
garters around her ripe thighs. Jake was weighing one of her ample
breasts in his hand with all the concentration of a housewife choosing
tomatoes from a greengrocers tray. The girl giggled and wriggled
provocatively into his lap.
"Damn it, Jake, listen to me. "I am listening," said Jake.
"The man was positively insulting," protested Gareth, and then seemed
for a moment to lose his concentration as Jake's companion unbuttoned
the bodice of her wispy dress.
"By Jove, Jake, they are rather delicious, what?" and they both
regarded the display with interest.
"You've got your own, "Jake muttered.
"You're right," agreed Gareth, and turned to the junoesque female who
waited patiently for him on the other couch.
Her glossy black hair was piled upon her head in an elaborate nest of
curls and plaits, and she had large, intense, toffee-coloured eyes in a
face whose paleness was emphasized by the vividly painted crimson lips.
She pouted at Gareth, and draped one arm languidly around his
shoulders.
"Are you sure neither of them understands English?" Gareth called,
as he entered into the practised embrace of the white arms.
"Portuguese, both of them," Jake assured him. "But you'd better test
them."
"Very well." Gareth thought a moment. "Girls, I must warn you that we
aren't paying for your company not a penny. This is for love alone."
Neither of their expressions changed, and the enfolding movements of
sinuous limbs continued without pause.
"That settles it," Gareth opined. "We can talk."
"At a time like this?"
"We've only got until morning to decide what we are going to do." Jake
made a muffled remark and Gareth admonished him, "I can't hear a
word."
"That gullible old Ethiop of yours has us over a barrel"
repeated Jake with sardonic relish. Before he could reply, vivid
lips,
pouting and red as ripened fruit, closed over Gareth's. There was
silence for a while until Gareth wrested himself loose and his head
popped up mustache in disarray and stained with lipstick.
"Jake, what the hell are we going to do?" And Jake told him in
nautical language which left no room for misunderstanding precisely
what he was about to do.
"don't mean that, I mean what are we going to tell old Toffee tomorrow?
Are we going to deliver the goods?" Gareth's companion reached up,
took him in a head lock and drew his mouth down again.
"Jake, for God's sake, concentrate on the problem," he pleaded as he
was engulfed.
"I am, I am!" Jake assured him, rolling his eyes sideways to meet
Gareth's, but without interrupting his efforts with the plump blonde.
"How the hell do we get four armoured cars ashore on a hostile coast,
just for a start then how do we run them two hundred miles to the
Ethiopian border?" Gareth lamented, speaking out of the unemployed
corner of his mouth, and then something caught his attention. He
pulled free and raised himself on one elbow. "I say, your companion
isn't a blonde after all. Extraordinary." Jake glanced sideways and
