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

the garage, so I know you're hereV In here, doll, he called, and she

stood in the doorway and they grinned at each other.  She had put on

weight again, he saw, straining the seam of her skirt, and her bosom was

bulky and amorphous under the scarlet sweater.  She had finally given up

her struggle with myopia and the metal-framed spectacles sat on the end

of her little nose, while her hair fuzzed out at unexpected angles.

You're beautiful, she cried, coming to kiss him and getting soap down

her sweater as she hugged him.

Drink or coffee?  she asked, and David winced at the thought of alcohol.

Coffee will be great, doll She brought it to him in a mug, then perched

on the toilet seat.

Tell all!  she commanded and while they chatted the pretty dark-haired

girl wandered in, still in her pyjamas and bug-eyed from sleep.

This is my coz, David.  Isn't he beautiful?  Mitzi introduced them.

And this is Liz.  The girl sat on the dirty linen basket in the corner

and fixed David with such an awed and penetrating gaze that Mitzi warned

her, Cool it, darling.  Even from here I can hear your ovaries bouncing

around like ping-pong balls.  But she was such a silent, ethereal little

thing that they soon forgot her and talked as if they were alone.  It

was Mitzi who said suddenly, without preliminaries, Papa is waiting for

you, licking his lips like an ivyleague ogre.  I ate with them Saturday

night, he must have brought your name up one zillion times.  It's going

to be strange to have you sitting up there on Top Floor, in a charcoal

suit, being bright at Monday morning conference - David stood up

suddenly in the bath, cascading suds and steaming water, and began

soaping his crotch vigorously .  They watched him with interest, the

dark-haired girl's eyes widening until they seemed to fill her face.

David sat down again, slopping water over the edge.

I'm not going!  he said, and there was a long heavy silence.

What you mean, you're not going?  Mitzi asked timorously.

Just that, said David.  I'm not going to Morgan Group.  'But you have

toVWhy?  asked David.

Well, I mean it's decided, you promised Daddy that when you finished

with the airforce.  No, David said, I made no promise.  He just took it.

When you said a moment ago, being bright at Monday morning conference, I

knew I couldn't do it.  I guess I've known all along.  What you going to

do, then?  Mitzi had recovered from the first shock, and her plump

cheeks were tinged pink with excitement.

I don't know.  I just know I am not going to be a caretaker for other

men's achievements.  Morgan Group isn't me.  It's something that Gramps,

and Dad and Uncle Paul made.  It's too big and cold - Mitzi was flushed,

bright-eyed, nodding her agreement, enchanted by this prospect of

rebellion and open defiance.

David was warming to it also.  I'll find my own road to go.  There's

more to it.  There has to be something more than this.  Yes, Mitzi

nodded so that she almost shook her spectacles from her nose.  You're

not like them.  You would shrivel and die up there on executive suite.

I've got to find it, Mitzi.  It's got to be out there somewhere.  David

came out of the bath, his body glowing dull red-brown from the scalding

water and steam rising from him in light tendrils.  He pulled on a Terry

robe as he talked and the two girls followed him through to the bedroom

and sat side by side on the edge of the bed, eagerly nodding their

encouragement as David Morgan made his formal declaration of

independence.  Mitzi spoiled it, however.

What are you going to tell Daddy?  she asked.  The question halted

David's flow of rhetoric, and he scratched the hair on his chest as he

considered it.  The girls waited attentively.

He's not going to let you get away again, Mitzi warned.  Not without a

stand-up, knock-down, drag-emout fight.  In this moment of crisis

David's courage deserted him.  I've told him once, I don't have to tell

him again.  'You just going to cut and run?  Mitzi asked.

I'm not running, David replied with frosty dignity as he picked up the

pigskin folder which held his thick sheaf of credit cards from the

bedside table.  I am merely reserving the right to determine my own

future.  He crossed to the telephone and began dialling.  Who are you

calling? 'The airline.  'Where are you heading?  'The same place as

their first flight out.  I'll cover for you, declared Mitzi loyally,

you're doing the right thing, warrior.  You bet I am, David agreed.  My

way and screw the rest of them.

Do you have time for that?  Mitzi giggled, and the dark-haired girl

spoke for the first time in a husky intense voice without once taking

her eyes off David.  I don't know about the rest of them, but may I be

first, please?  With the telephone receiver to his ear David glanced at

her, and realized with only mild surprise that she was in deadly

earnest.

David came out into the impersonal concrete and glass arrivals hall of

Schipol Airport, and he paused to gloat on his escape and to revel at

this sense of anonymity in the uncaring crowd.  There was a touch at his

elbow, and he turned to find a tall, smiling Dutchman quizzing him

through rimless spectacles.

Mr. David Morgan, I think?  and David gaped at him.

I am Frederick van Gent of Holland and Indonesian Stevedoring.  We have

the honour to act on behalf of Morgan Shipping Lines in Holland.  It is

a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.  God, no!  David whispered

wearily.

Please?  No.  I'm sorry.  It's nice to meet you.  David shook the hand

with resignation.

I have two urgent telex messages for you, Mr. Morgan.  Van Gent produced

them with a flourish.  I I have driven out from Amsterdam especially to

deliver same.  The first was from Mitzi who had sworn to cover for him.

Abject apologies your whereabouts extracted with rack and thumbscrew

stop be brave as a lion stop be -ferocious as an eagle Love Mitzi.

David said, Traitorous bitch!  and opened the second envelope.

Your doubts understood, your action condoned stop confident your good

sense will lead you eventually on to path of duty stop your place here

always open affectionately Paul Morgan.

David said, Crafty old bastard, and stuffed both messages into his

pocket.

Is there a reply?  Van Gent asked.

Thank you, no.  It was good of you to take this trouble.

No trouble, Mr. Morgan Can I help you in any way?

Is there anything you require?

Nothing, but thanks again.  They shook hands and Van Gent bowed and left

him.  David went to the Avis counter and the girl smiled brightly at

him.

Good evening, sir.

David slipped his Avis card across the desk.  I want something with a

little jump to it, please.

Let me see, we have a Mustang Mach 1?  1 She was pure blonde with a

cream and pink unlined face.

That will do admirably, David assured her, and as she began filling the

form in, she asked, Your first visit to Amsterdam, sir?

They tell me it's the city with the most action in Europe, is that

right?

If you know where to go, she murmured.

You should show me?  David asked and she looked up at him with

calculating eyes behind a neutral expression, made a decision and

resumed her writings.

Please sign here, sir.  Your account will be charged, then she dropped

her voice.  If you have any queries on this contract, you can contact me

at this number, after hours.  My name is Gilda.