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."It is not an attractive garment, but it does close in the back, o Emperor,"Chiun said, visibly embarrassed."How did you find—"Chiun held up a hand."Conserve your strength.Suffice it to say you are not the only man who rests this night in a hospital."Smith smiled."Folcroft," he said.The vision of the gray-gloved hand came back to him, weaving, distorted, as if seen from underwater.The smallest hand.And then he permitted the painless blackness of unconsciousness to take over.Page 64ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html?Chapter ElevenRemo made it up the almost sheer cliff face leading to the Peruvina mansion in twenty minutes.It would have taken a mountain climber in full gear an hour to make the journey; a normal man, three times that.Obviously the owner of the plantation didn't welcome drop-in visitors.The view from the top, at the front of the house, was breathtaking.Nearly 1200 feet below, the army of laborers, prodded on by a half-dozen field bosses, stooped over the acres of coffee plants.The air was rarified and clean.West of the cliff, Remo could make out the copse of trees where he had left Thompson.The pilot would most likely never regain consciousness before he died.But if he did, Remo thought, he would at least be aware of spending his last moments in a beautiful place with good air and the sound of birds singing.He walked into the house through an open side door.It was magnificent, the home of a king.One wall, made of curved sheet glass, looked directly over the cliff, so that from the inside the house appeared to be floating, baseless, in the sky.The enormous room he was standing in was richly appointed with fine, tasteful furniture and works of art of a quality and antiquity usually reserved for museums.Remo followed the long corridor leading into the interior of the house.The place seemed empty.He saw room after room of magnificent tapestries, priceless collections of English and Chinese porcelains, ancient scrolls glittering with gold leaf painted by the Japanese masters of the eleventh century.Peruvina was a far cry from Amfat Hassam's gaudy finery.Whoever owned the plantation evidently was accustomed to wealth.The corridor led him into a dimly lit room redolent of old leather.The walls were lined with first-edition volumes and scholarly works in both Spanish and English.Who lived here? Remo wondered as his hand brushed against the polished, rust-colored wood of an enormous Cuban mahogany desk.His footfalls were silent on the deep gray carpet.Who was the master of Peruvina?"You are looking for someone, señor?" a woman's throaty voice whispered from the doorway.In the deep silence, it sounded to Remo like the din of cannon.He caught his breath.She was beautiful, one of those women you only see in ads for liquor.Five-foot-seven or so, every inch of it perfect, with thick curly black hair and green-blue eyes that got hotter as she narrowed them.Beneath the eyes there was a nose straight and aristocratic enough to have been the masterpiece of some Latin plastic surgeon, but somehow Remo didn't think so.There was something in the ripe mouth, in the carriage of her breasts, that suggested she'd never been less than perfect, and knew it.In her manicured hands was a pistol, a chrome and mother of pearl Rohm RG-7.22 caliber."If I were you, I'd get a better gun," Remo said."Oh, jes?" She fired.Straight into the Shakespeare first folio Remo had been standing in front of.Page 65ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Jes indeed," Remo said.She smiled."You are a man of humor, señor.I like that," she said."Although you are very quick.I do not know if I like that so much in a man." Watching Remo, she slowly laid down the weapon on a small table.She folded her arms across her chest and caressed herself languidly.The movement made her breasts swell over the low neckline of her dress."I am Esmeralda," she said in a way that made Remo's mouth feel as though he hadn't swallowed in days."Why are you here?"He tried to clear his head.She was wearing perfume.Or something.Spanish Fly, maybe, Remo thought stupidly.Digitalis.Something that made standing seem like the wrong position for them both to be in."I want to see the owner of this place."The impossibly rich mouth curved more deeply."Well?" She spread her arms."How much more do you wish to see?""You run Peruvina?""You expected maybe Juan Valdez?"He looked at the splendor around them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."It is not an attractive garment, but it does close in the back, o Emperor,"Chiun said, visibly embarrassed."How did you find—"Chiun held up a hand."Conserve your strength.Suffice it to say you are not the only man who rests this night in a hospital."Smith smiled."Folcroft," he said.The vision of the gray-gloved hand came back to him, weaving, distorted, as if seen from underwater.The smallest hand.And then he permitted the painless blackness of unconsciousness to take over.Page 64ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html?Chapter ElevenRemo made it up the almost sheer cliff face leading to the Peruvina mansion in twenty minutes.It would have taken a mountain climber in full gear an hour to make the journey; a normal man, three times that.Obviously the owner of the plantation didn't welcome drop-in visitors.The view from the top, at the front of the house, was breathtaking.Nearly 1200 feet below, the army of laborers, prodded on by a half-dozen field bosses, stooped over the acres of coffee plants.The air was rarified and clean.West of the cliff, Remo could make out the copse of trees where he had left Thompson.The pilot would most likely never regain consciousness before he died.But if he did, Remo thought, he would at least be aware of spending his last moments in a beautiful place with good air and the sound of birds singing.He walked into the house through an open side door.It was magnificent, the home of a king.One wall, made of curved sheet glass, looked directly over the cliff, so that from the inside the house appeared to be floating, baseless, in the sky.The enormous room he was standing in was richly appointed with fine, tasteful furniture and works of art of a quality and antiquity usually reserved for museums.Remo followed the long corridor leading into the interior of the house.The place seemed empty.He saw room after room of magnificent tapestries, priceless collections of English and Chinese porcelains, ancient scrolls glittering with gold leaf painted by the Japanese masters of the eleventh century.Peruvina was a far cry from Amfat Hassam's gaudy finery.Whoever owned the plantation evidently was accustomed to wealth.The corridor led him into a dimly lit room redolent of old leather.The walls were lined with first-edition volumes and scholarly works in both Spanish and English.Who lived here? Remo wondered as his hand brushed against the polished, rust-colored wood of an enormous Cuban mahogany desk.His footfalls were silent on the deep gray carpet.Who was the master of Peruvina?"You are looking for someone, señor?" a woman's throaty voice whispered from the doorway.In the deep silence, it sounded to Remo like the din of cannon.He caught his breath.She was beautiful, one of those women you only see in ads for liquor.Five-foot-seven or so, every inch of it perfect, with thick curly black hair and green-blue eyes that got hotter as she narrowed them.Beneath the eyes there was a nose straight and aristocratic enough to have been the masterpiece of some Latin plastic surgeon, but somehow Remo didn't think so.There was something in the ripe mouth, in the carriage of her breasts, that suggested she'd never been less than perfect, and knew it.In her manicured hands was a pistol, a chrome and mother of pearl Rohm RG-7.22 caliber."If I were you, I'd get a better gun," Remo said."Oh, jes?" She fired.Straight into the Shakespeare first folio Remo had been standing in front of.Page 65ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Jes indeed," Remo said.She smiled."You are a man of humor, señor.I like that," she said."Although you are very quick.I do not know if I like that so much in a man." Watching Remo, she slowly laid down the weapon on a small table.She folded her arms across her chest and caressed herself languidly.The movement made her breasts swell over the low neckline of her dress."I am Esmeralda," she said in a way that made Remo's mouth feel as though he hadn't swallowed in days."Why are you here?"He tried to clear his head.She was wearing perfume.Or something.Spanish Fly, maybe, Remo thought stupidly.Digitalis.Something that made standing seem like the wrong position for them both to be in."I want to see the owner of this place."The impossibly rich mouth curved more deeply."Well?" She spread her arms."How much more do you wish to see?""You run Peruvina?""You expected maybe Juan Valdez?"He looked at the splendor around them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]