Чтение онлайн

"Yes, Scotland Yard (да, Скотленд-Ярд), but they've put me into a Colonel's uniform (но они засунули меня в униформу полковника) when I'm on duty (когда я на службе)."

He was between me and the door now (он был теперь между мной и дверью). I couldn't get away from the table (я не мог отойти прочь от стола) without coming into range (без того, чтобы попасть в досягаемость /возможного удара/), I'm no fighter (я вовсе не боец: «я никакой боец»), and he had six inches of advantage anyway (и у него было шесть дюймов преимущества в любом случае). I said, "It wasn't petrol (это был не бензин)."

"Tyres, saccharin (шины, сахарин)... why don't you policemen catch a few murderers (почему вы, полицейские, не поймаете нескольких убийц) for a change (для разнообразия)?"

"Well, you could say (ну, вы могли бы сказать = можно сказать) that murder was part of his racket (что убийство было частью его махинаций)."

whistle [wIsl], familiar [fq'mIlIq], signature ['sIgnICq], caught [kO:t], attention [q'tenS(q)n], dangerous ['deInG(q)rqs], physical ['fIzIk(q)l], courage ['kArIG], situation ["sItju'eIS(q)n], accident ['xksId(q)nt], racketeer ["rxkI'tIq], measure ['meZq], advantage [q'dvRntIG], organisation ["O:gqnaI'zeIS(q)n], colonel ['kq:nl], petrol ['petr(q)l], racket ['rxkIt]

He whistled a tune—it was oddly familiar to me. "I always remember that. I saw Harry write it. Just in a couple of minutes on the back of an envelope. That was what he always whistled when he had something on his mind. It was his signature tune." He whistled the tune a second time, and I knew then who had written it—of course it wasn't Harry. I nearly told him so, but what was the point? The tune wavered and went out. He stared down into his glass, drained what was left and said, "It's a damned shame to think of him dying the way he did."

"It was the best thing that ever happened to him," I said.

He didn't take in my meaning at once: he was a little hazy with the drinks. "The best thing?"

"Yes."

"You mean there wasn't any pain?"

"He was lucky in that way, too."

It was my tone of voice and not my words that caught Martins' attention. He asked gently and dangerously—I could see his right hand tighten, "Are you hinting at something?"

There is no point at all in showing physical courage in all situations: I eased my chair far enough back to be out of reach of his fist. I said, "I mean that I had his case completed at police headquarters. He would have served a long spell—a very long spell—if it hadn't been for the accident."

"What for?"

"He was about the worst racketeer who ever made a dirty living in this city."

I could see him measuring the distance between us and deciding that he couldn't reach me from where he sat. Rollo wanted to hit out: but Martins was steady, careful. Martins, I began to realise, was dangerous. I wondered whether after all I had made a complete mistake: I couldn't see Martins being quite the mug that Rollo had made out. "You're a policeman?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I've always hated policemen. They are always either crooked or stupid."

"Is that the kind of books you write?"

I could see him edging his chair round to block my way out. I caught the waiter's eye and he knew what I meant—there's an advantage in always using the same bar for interviews.

Martins said gently and brought out a surface smile: "I have to call them sheriffs."

"Been in America?" It was a silly conversation.

"No. Is this an interrogation?"

"Just interest."

"Because if Harry was that kind of racketeer, I must be one too. We always worked together."

"I daresay he meant to cut you in—somewhere in the organisation. I wouldn't be surprised if he had meant to give you the baby to hold. That was his method at school—you told me, didn't you? And, you see, the headmaster was getting to know a thing or two."

"You are running true to form, aren't you? I suppose there was some petty racket going on with petrol and you couldn't pin it on anyone, so you've picked a dead man. That's just like a policeman. You're a real policeman, I suppose?"

"Yes, Scotland Yard, but they've put me into a Colonel's uniform when I'm on duty."

He was between me and the door now. I couldn't get away from the table without coming into range, I'm no fighter, and he had six inches of advantage anyway. I said, "It wasn't petrol."

"Tyres, saccharin ... why don't you policemen catch a few murderers for a change?"

"Well, you could say that murder was part of his racket."

He pushed the table over with one hand (он перевернул стол одной рукой) and made a dive at me with the other (и сделал быстрое движение на меня другой); the drink confused his calculations (напиток смешал его расчеты; to confuse — смешивать, путать, перемешивать в беспорядке). Before he could try again (прежде чем он мог попытаться снова) my driver had his arms round him (мой водитель обхватил его; arm — рука, round — вокруг). I said, "Don't treat him roughly (не обращайся с ним грубо). He's only a writer (он всего лишь писатель) with too much drink in him (с излишком алкоголя в нем)."

"Be quiet, can't you, sir (будьте спокойны, не можете ли вы, сэр= а ну-ка потише, сэр; quiet — тихий, бесшумный, неслышный; спокойный)," my driver said (сказал мой водитель). He had an exaggerated sense of officer-class (у него было преувеличенное чувство офицерского класса). He would probably have called Lime "sir" (он бы, возможно, называл «сэром» и Лайма).

"Listen, Callaghan, or whatever your bloody name is (послушайте, Каллахан или или как там, черт возьми, тебя зовут: «какое угодно твое проклятое имя есть»)..."

"Calloway (Кэллоуэй). I'm English, not Irish (я англичанин, не ирландец)."

"I'm going to make you look (я собираюсь заставить тебя выглядеть) the biggest bloody fool in Vienna (самым большим проклятым дураком в Вене). There's one dead man (есть один мертвый человек) you aren't going to pin your unsolved crimes on (на которого ты не повесишь твои нераскрытые преступления)."

"I see (я вижу = понятно). You're going to find me the real criminal (вы собираетесь найти мне настоящего преступника)? It sounds like one of your stories (это звучит, как одна из ваших историй)."

"You can let me go, Callaghan (ты можешь отпустить меня: «позволить мне идти», Каллахан), I'd rather make you look the fool you are (я бы скорее заставил: «сделал» тебя выглядеть тем дураком, которым ты являешься) than black your bloody eye (чем поставить синяк на твоем проклятом глазу: «зачернить твой проклятый глаз») . You'd only have to go to bed for a few days with a black eye (ты бы только должен был идти в кровать = ложиться спать в течение нескольких дней с черным глазом). But when I've finished with you (но когда я покончу с тобой) you'll leave Vienna (ты покинешь Вену)."