# Сканы король

Лев Переводчик Шкловский

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I kicked open the white wooden door and

brought Wilhelmina out from under my jacket

as I entered the room. The blinding, white sun-

light streamed into the cabana and illuminated

Nozdrev.

"If you want to live," I said, "don't move." I

waved the luger as he moved his hand toward his

chest. His hand retreated. Again he lifted his

hand toward his chest, but he didn't complete

the gesture.

Then I noticed the spot of red near the shoulder

of his white beachrobe, and the slowly-forming

pool of red on the white tile floor of the

cabana


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NICK CARTER

"Nick Carter out.Bonds James Bond."

—Buffalo Evening News

"Nick Carter is America's #1 espionage agent."

—Variety

"Nick Carter is razor-sharp suspense."

—King Features

"Nick Carter is extraordinarily big."

—Bestsellers

"Nick Carter has attracted an army of addicted

readers .

. the books are fast, have plenty of

action and just the right degree of sex . . .

Nick

Carter is the American James Bond, suave,

sophisticated, a killer with both the ladies and

the enemy."

—The New York Times

NC-A

i


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A Killmaster Spy Chiller

-NICK

AND KING

CHARTER

r•ew YORk


Chapter One

The midday California sun sent glimmers off the

deep blue water. Her pale blond hair was like a

diamond against the blue, as she swam across the

Olympic-sized pool.

Her house was named "Paradise," and paradise

it was: a long, white luxurious structure set among

the pool and citrus gardens and beautifully man-

icured lawns. High in the hills above Los Angeles it

had the most spectacular view of the city you could

imagine. Even the smog seemed to have taken its

leave up here, at least temporarily.

I'd flown out here for a much needed R and R

after a brutal job in Athens. She had met me at the

airport and immediately spirited me up to this

haven. She'd cancelled all of her appointments,

and for a week now it had been just the two of us.

Even her servants kept discreetly out of sight. Diir-

ing the day we explored the nearby hills and swam

and lay beside the pool. At night we watched the

stars from her glass-enclosed living room and then

lay for hours on the satin sheets of her large oval

bed. We satisfied our desires until both of us were

exhausted and then drifted into sleep, usually not


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Chapter One

The midday California sun sent glimmers off the

deep blue water. Her pale blond hair was like a

diamond against the blue, as she swam across the

Olympic-sized pool.

Her house was named "Paradise," and paradise

it was: a long, white luxurious structure set among

the pool and citrus gardens and beautifully man-

icured lawns. High in the hills above Los Angeles it

had the most spectacular view of the city you could

imagine. Even the smog seemed to have taken its

leave up here, at least temporarily.

I'd flown out here for a much needed R and R

after a brutal job in Athens. She had met me at the

airport and immediately spirited me up to this

haven. She'd cancelled all of her appointments,

and for a week now it had been just the two of us.

Even her servants kept discreetly out of sight. Diir-

ing the day we explored the nearby hills and swam

and lay beside the pool. At night we watched the

stars from her glass-enclosed living room and then

lay for hours on the satin sheets of her large oval

bed. We satisfied our desires until both of us were

exhausted and then drifted into sleep, usually not


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until near dawn. Paradise it certainly was.

She finished her lap, and as though she sensed

my presence, she looked toward the terrace where

I stood. She saw me and her sensuous lips parted in

a smile over those perfect white teeth.

"Come on in, the water's fine," she called. That

was no surprise; the water was always fine here.

"Come on in," she repeated in that sophisti-

cated, sultry voice, which was a delightful contrast

to the perfect innocence of her face. It's a voice

you'd recognize. And you'd recognize the face too.

Her name is Susan and for the last couple of years

she's been one of the top actresses in pictures, a

genuine star.

I liked watching her glide across the pool, but I

knew I'd like being in the pool even more. I

shucked my clothes, walked down the half dozen

flagstone steps from the terrace to the pool, and

dived in. I opened my eyes under water and swam

toward those long shapely legs, now treading water

with all the grace of a ballet dancer. I reached out

and encircled her legs with my arms and then

moved my hand up to her tanned, undulating

stomach. Slowly she slid underwater, her legs, her

torso, her full breasts gliding past my eyes. And

then her face was opposite mine. Our bodies

moved together underwater, and I felt an electric

shock as her breasts moved against my chest; and I

felt her quiver too. I moved my tongue to her

mouth and taking her in my arms, floated us both

to the bottom of the pool. We lay there in a pas-

sionate embrace, like two sea creatures, lost in

time. Finally she moved her hand against my

cheek, indicating that she needed air. I held her


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firmly and sprung us both to the surface of the wa-

ter. I placed my right arm around her rib cage, cup-

ping one of her beautiful breasts in my hand. With

my other arm I sidestroked to the edge of the pool,

carrying her beside me.

"Here, darling," she said, almost breathlessly, as

we reached the blue-tiled side of the pool.

She stretched out her arms to brace herself and

then flattened her backside against the tiles. I en-

tered her in a single thrust, displacing the water be-

tween us. Our bodies moved like one, sending rip-

ples back across the pool's entire surface. The rip-

ples became waves as our own intensity increased.

As we reached a peak, she cried out like a creature

from the nearby hills.

Afterwards we lay on the warm flagstones of the

terrace. Her eyes were closed against the sun, and I

traced a remaining rivulet of water down her fine,

firm breasts. The sun seemed to give energy to my

own drained body, and lying there beside her I felt

more peaceful than I'd felt in a long, long while. I

stretched back and watched a bank of cumulus

clouds move against the blue sky. The only sounds

were of a blackbird chirping in the nearby woods

and of a telephone ringing in the distance.

"Telephone for Mr. Brody," the maid's voice

announced over the intercom system.

That was me. Brody, Charles Brody, was the

name Susan knew me by. She smiled up at me as I

lifted my body from the ground, but I wasn't smil-

ing. Only one person had my phone number here.

And a call from him could only mean one thing.

I moved to a phone which sat on a glass table

near us.


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