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Devil May Care

Devil May Care

Titel: Devil May Care Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Sebastian Faulks
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out. I knew if I just telephoned that you’d refuse to see me. Of course, what I meant to do was grab you in the morning in Rome and make a clean breast of it. But I was a bit put out by your … coldness. Then the desk told me you’d left at the crack of dawn.’
    ‘And now you have a second chance. I’m officially engaged to follow a man you wanted me to meet for your own private ends.’
    Scarlett smiled. ‘Do you believe in destiny?’
    Bond said nothing. He kicked off his black loafers and propped himself up on the bed. He put his gun down beside the telephone and thought for a long time. He was amused.
    Lonely housewife, busy banker, lady of the night… Scarlett was undeniably intriguing. Her composure, as she sat there, her red lips half-parted in a self-deprecating smile, was remarkable. And the husband, Mr Rossi, in insurance … What an improbable figure he now seemed. But he had to hand it to her, she’d managed it brilliantly in Rome, that air of frustrated-housewife boredom. Presumably she’d thought it unsafe to talk about her sister in the restaurant and was waiting till she got him up to her room. Or had she had another, more personal, motive?
    It didn’t matter. At such moments he relied on instinct and experience. Whatever the complications of her story, the signals that the girl gave off were good. Dangerous, perhaps, but interesting.
    ‘All right, Scarlett,’ he said, ‘this is what we’ll do. Today is Thursday. Tomorrow I shall meet up with an old friend. Just the two of us, in case you were thinking of dropping in. Depending on what he says, I will then go with you to the tennis club on Saturday morning. I’ll call you on this number at six o’clock tomorrow.’ He held up her card. ‘Then you can make the introductions and –’
    ‘No, I can’t make the introductions. Gorner mustn’t see me. It would put Poppy in danger. I’ll point him out to you.’
    ‘All right. But you must stay at the club. I want you there. Until the moment I leave.’
    ‘As your security?’
    ‘Securities are what you deal in, aren’t they?’ Bond eyed her sardonically. ‘Is it a deal?’
    ‘Yes. It’s a deal.’ Scarlett held out her hand.
    Bond took it. ‘Larissa kissed me on the cheek,’ he said.
    ‘ Autres temps, ’ said Scarlett, with a low laugh, ‘ autres moeurs. ’
    He watched her walk down the corridor to the lift, the skirt holding its elegant line along the length of her thighs.
    This time there was no wave from the lift, but as the doors were closing, she called out, ‘How’s your tennis? I hope it’s good!’
    René Mathis seemed anxious to meet early in the day. ‘Friday evenings, James,’ he said, ‘always so many loose ends to tidy up in the office. I’ll buy you lunch. Come to Chez André in the rue du Cherche Midi. Not my normal quartier at all. So much the better.’
    Bond arrived five minutes early, as was his custom, and took a seat, away from the window, from which he could survey the room. He was pleased to see Mathis arrive, a little out of breath, complaining of the traffic.
    ‘Just a little bistro, James. Nothing special. Have the dish of the day. It’s mostly publishers and lecturers, people like that, in here. No one you won’t want to see, I assure you.’
    Mathis spoke a fluent, lightly accented English. He ordered two Ricards before Bond could stop him.
    ‘What do you know about Julius Gorner?’ said Bond.
    ‘Not much,’ said Mathis. ‘And you?’
    Bond told him what he knew while Mathis listened, nodding intently. He often pretended to be more ignorant than he really was, Bond knew. It was a habit, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be relied on.
    ‘It sounds as though someone needs to get closer to this man,’ Mathis said, when Bond had finished. ‘People who work on his scale seldom leave much trace of their activities. You need to close in very tight.’
    ‘I have a way in,’ said Bond, ‘but it’s a slippery one.’
    ‘My dear James,’ laughed Mathis, ‘what other kind of entrée can there be in our line of business?’
    The waiter brought terrine with cornichons and a basket of bread.
    ‘You must break the habit of a lifetime and drink some wine,’ said Mathis. ‘No one can eat terrine without wine.’
    He ordered a bottle of Château Batailley 1958 and, having poured a half-inch into his own glass, filled Bond’s. ‘It’s a fifth growth,’ he said. ‘It comes from a few metres west of Latour but it’s a fraction of

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