The Night Manager полностью

Corkoran brushed his hands together to get the sand off them. "Jesus, the effort of being criminal," he complained. "The people and the noise. The sleaze. The places one doesn't want to be. Don't you find the same? Of course you don't. You're above it. That's what I keep telling the Chief. Does he listen? Does he, my Khyber Pass."

"I can't help you, Corky."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll sort it out." He lit a cigarette and exhaled gratefully. "And now this," he said, waving a hand at Woody's House behind him. "Two nights running, my spies tell me. I'd like to peach to the Chief, of course. Nothing would please me more. But I can't do it to our lady of Crystal. Can't speak for the others, though. Someone will bubble. Someone always does." Miss Mabel Island became a black stencil against the moon. "Never could do evenings. Hate the fuckers. Never could do mornings either, for that matter. Nothing but bloody deathbells. You get about ten minutes in a good day, if you're Corky. One more for the Queen?"

"No, thanks."

* * *

It was never going to be an easy departure. They assembled on Miss Mabel's airstrip in the early light like so many refugees, Jed wearing dark glasses and deciding to see nobody. On the plane, still with her dark glasses, she sat hunched in a back row, with Corkoran on one side of her and Daniel on the other, while Frisky and Tabby flanked Jonathan up front. When they landed at Nassau, MacArthur was hovering at the barrier. Corkoran handed him the passports, including Jonathan's, and everybody was waved through, no problems.

"Jed's going to be sick," Daniel announced as they climbed into the new Rolls. Corkoran told him to shut up.

The Roper mansion was stucco Tudor and creepery and wore an unexpected air of neglect.

In the afternoon, Corkoran took Jonathan on a grand shopping spree in Freetown. Corkoran was in an erratic mood. Several times he paused to refresh himself at nasty little bars, while Jonathan drank Coke. Everyone seemed to know Corkoran, some people a little too well. Frisky trailed them at a distance. They bought three very expensive Italian business suits ― trousers to be adjusted by yesterday, please, Clive, darling, or the Chief will be furious ― then half a dozen town shirts, socks and ties to match, shoes and belts, a lightweight navy raincoat, underclothes, linen handkerchiefs, pyjamas and a fine leather sponge bag with an electric razor and a pair of handsome hairbrushes with silver T's: "My friend won't accept anything that isn't done to a T ― will you, heart?" And when they got back to the Roper mansion, Corkoran completed his creation by producing a pigskin wallet full of mainline credit cards in the name of Thomas, a black leather attaché case, a gold wristwatch by Piaget and a pair of gold cufflinks engraved with the initials DST.

So that by the time everyone was assembled in the drawing room for Dom, Jed and Roper glowing and relaxed, Jonathan was the very model of a modern young executive.

"What do we think of him, loves?" Corkoran demanded with a creator's pride.

"Bloody good," said Roper, not much caring.

"Super," said Jed.

After Dom, they went to Enzo's restaurant on Paradise Island, which was where Jed ordered lobster salad.

* * *

And that was all it was. One lobster salad. Jed had her arm round Roper's neck while she ordered it. And kept her arm there while Roper passed her order to the proprietor. They were side by side because it was their last night together, and as everybody knew, they were these terrific lovers.

"Darlings," said Corkoran, raising his wine to them. "Perfect pairing. So incredibly beautiful. Let no man put asunder."

And he swallowed a glassful at a gulp, while the proprietor, who was Italian and mortified, regretted there was no more lobster salad.

"Veal, Jeds?" Roper suggested. "Penned good. Polio? Have a polio. No, you won't. Full of garlic. Put you out of bounds. Fish. Bring her a fish. Like a fish, Jeds? Sole? What fish you got?"

"Any fish," said Corkoran, "should appreciate the sacrifice."

Jed had fish instead of lobster.

Jonathan also had fish and pronounced it sublime. Jed said hers was gorgeous. So did the MacDanbies, commandeered at no notice to make up Roper's kind of numbers.

"Doesn't look gorgeous to me," said Corkoran.

"Oh, but Corks, it's far better than lobster. My absolute favourite."

"Lobster on the menu, whole island stiff with lobster, why the hell haven't they got it?" Corkoran insisted.

"They just goofed, Corks. We can't all be geniuses like you."

Roper was preoccupied. Not in a hostile way. He just had things on his mind, and his hand in Jed's lap. But Daniel, soon to go back to England, chose to challenge his father's detachment.

"Roper's got the black monkey on his back," he announced to an unfortunate silence. "He's got this mega-megadeal coming off. It's going to put him beyond reach."

"Dans, put a sock in it," said Jed smartly.

"What's brown and sticky?" Daniel asked. No one knew.

"A stick." he said.