Circus. Alistair MacLeanЧитать онлайн книгу.
doesn’t really want more power – we have already overkill capacity. Can you imagine what would happen if this secret fell into the hands of, say, the certifiable leaders of a couple of the new Central African republics? We simply think we have more responsible hands than most.’
‘We have to hope we have.’
Fawcett tried to conceal his long slow exhalation of relief. ‘That means you’ll go along.’
‘I’ll go. A moment ago you said the time was now right to tell me. Why?’
‘I hope I was right in saying I was right.’
Bruno stirred. ‘What do you want of me, Colonel?’
There were times, Fawcett was aware, when there was little point in beating about the bush. He said: ‘Get it for us.’
Bruno rose and poured himself another soda. He drank it all down then said: ‘You mean, steal it?’
‘Get it. Would you call taking a gun away from a maniac stealing?’
‘But why me?’
‘Because you have unique gifts. I can’t discuss what type of use we would propose making of those gifts until I have some sort of answer. All I know is that we are pretty certain that there is only one formula in existence, only one man who has the formula and is capable of reproducing it. We know where both man and formula are.’
‘Where?’
Fawcett didn’t hesitate. ‘Crau.’
Bruno didn’t react in at all the way Fawcett had expected. His voice, when he spoke, was as bereft of expression as his face. Tonelessly, he repeated the word: ‘Crau.’
‘Crau. Your old home country and your old home town.’
Bruno didn’t reply immediately. He returned to his chair, sat in it for a full minute, then said: ‘If I do agree, how do I get there? Illegal frontier crossing? Parachutes?’
Fawcett made a heroic – and successful – effort to conceal his sense of exultation. Wrinfield and Bruno – he’d got them both in a matter of minutes. He said matter-of-factly: ‘Nothing so dramatic. You just go along with the circus.’
This time Bruno seemed to be beyond words, so Wrinfield said: ‘It’s quite true, Bruno. We – that is, I – have agreed to co-operate with the government on this issue. Not that I had any more idea, until this moment, what the precise issue involved was. We are going to make a short tour of Europe, mainly eastern Europe. Negotiations are already well advanced. It’s quite natural. They send circus acts, dancers, singers to us: we’re just reciprocating.’
‘The whole circus?’
‘No, naturally not. That would be impossible. Just the cream of the cream, shall we say.’ Wrinfield smiled faintly. ‘One would have imagined that to include you.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘We simply cancel the tour.’
Bruno looked at Fawcett. ‘Mr Wrinfield’s lost profits. This could cost your government a million dollars.’
‘Our government. We’d pay a billion to get hold of this.’
Bruno looked from Fawcett to Wrinfield then back to Fawcett again. He said abruptly: ‘I’ll go.’
‘Splendid. My thanks. Your country’s thanks. The details – ’
‘I do not need my country’s thanks.’ The words were cryptical but without offence.
Fawcett was slightly taken aback, sought for the meaning behind the words then decided he’d better not. He said: ‘As you will. The details, as I was about to say, can wait until later. Mr Wrinfield, did Mr Pilgrim tell you that we’d be grateful if you would take along two additional people when you go abroad?’
‘He did not.’ Wrinfield seemed somewhat miffed. ‘It would appear that there are quite a number of things that Mr Pilgrim did not tell me.’
‘Mr Pilgrim knows what he is doing.’ Now that he had them both Fawcett took off the velvet gloves but still remained urbane and polite. ‘There was no point in burdening you with unnecessary details until we had secured the co-operation of both you gentlemen. The two people in question are a Dr Harper and an equestrienne, Maria. Our people. Very important to our purpose. That, too, I’ll explain later. There are some things I must first discuss urgently with Mr Pilgrim. Tell me, Bruno, why have you agreed to do this? I must warn you that it might be extremely dangerous for you and if you’re caught we’ll have no option but to disown you. Why?’
Bruno shrugged. ‘Who’s to say why? There can be many reasons that a man can’t explain even to himself. Could be gratitude – America took me in when my own country threw me out. There are people there to whom I would like to perform as great a disservice as they did to me. I know there are dangerous and irresponsible men in my old country who would not hesitate to employ this weapon, if it exists. And then you say I am uniquely equipped for this task. In what ways I don’t yet know, but if it is the case how could I let another go in my place? Not only might he fail in getting what you want but he could well be killed in the process. I wouldn’t like to have either of those things on my conscience.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Just say it’s a bit of a challenge.’
‘And your real reason?’
Bruno said simply: ‘Because I hate war.’
‘Mmm. Not the answer I expected, but fair enough.’ He stood up. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your time, your patience and above all your cooperation. I’ll have the cars take you back.’
Wrinfield said: ‘And yourself? How do you get to Mr Pilgrim’s office?’
‘The madame here and I have an understanding of sorts. I’m sure she’ll provide me with some form of transport.’
Fawcett had keys in his hand when he approached Pilgrim’s apartment – Pilgrim both worked and slept in the same premises – but he put them away. Pilgrim, most uncharacteristically, had not even locked his door, he hadn’t even closed it properly. Fawcett pushed the door and went inside. The first partly irrational thought that occurred to him was that he could have been just that little bit optimistic when he had assured Wrinfield that Pilgrim knew what he was doing.
Pilgrim was lying on the carpet. Whoever had left him lying there had clearly a sufficiency of ice-picks at home, for he hadn’t even bothered to remove the one he’d left buried to the hilt in the back of Pilgrim’s neck. Death must have been instantaneous, for there wasn’t even a drop of blood to stain his Turnbull and Asser shirt. Fawcett knelt and looked at the face. It was as calmly expressionless as it had habitually been in life. Pilgrim had not only not known what hit him, he hadn’t even known he’d been hit.
Fawcett straightened, crossed to the phone and lifted it.
‘Dr Harper please. Ask him to come here immediately.’
Dr Harper wasn’t exactly a caricature or a conceptualized prototype of the kindly healer, but it would have been difficult to visualize him in any other role. There was a certain medical inevitability about him. He was tall, lean, distinguished in appearance, becomingly grey at the temples and wore a pair of horn-rimmed pebble glasses which lent his gaze a certain piercing quality which might have been illusory, intentional or just habitual. Horn-rimmed pebble glasses are a great help to doctors; the patient can never tell whether he is in robust health or has only weeks to live. His dress was as immaculate as that of the dead man he was thoughtfully examining. He had his black medical bag with him but wasn’t bothering to use it. He said: ‘So that’s all you know about tonight?’
‘That’s all.’
‘Wrinfield? After all, he was the only one who knew. Before tonight, I mean.’
‘He knew no details before tonight. No way. And he’d no opportunity. He was with me.’
‘There’s