The Reavers. George Fraser MacDonald

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Regal, and changed his mind.

      “It’s him!” he cried. “Hullaw rerr, Jimmy, hoo’s it gaun, son? I mean, God bless Your Majesty! Hey, but, whit’s he daein’ in the Isle o’ Man? It’s no’ Gleska Fair Week yet, surely?”

      The wizard smiled cynically and turned to the monk. “Frey Bentos?”

      “Ah seen worse lookalikes,” conceded the master spy, shrugging beady eyes. “Sho’nuff, he might impersonate His Scottish Majesty indifferent well, if he kin do th’accent an’ slobber convincin’ly. The way Ah heerd it, no one’s bustin’ a gut to git close to King James anyhow, so Ah guess this impostuh could git by.”

      “Eez he revolting enough?” wondered Don Collapso. “I mean, onteel you’ve eaten weeth the Scotteesh monarch, you ain’t seen-a nothin’! I sat nex’ heem at a Holyrood banquet … boy, talk about Friday night at the abattoir! Deez-gusteeng!”

      The Wizard stabbed a talon-like finger at the cauldron image. “He has been trained for years, coached to perfection in Parliamo Glasgow and all aspects of Scottish culture. Our leading experts in drooling, stammering, and eye-rolling have tutored him to a point where I am sure he will nauseate even such an outstanding slob as yourself, Don Collapso.” He glanced at the ambassador, who was cramming a fistful of sweetmeats between liver lips, and shuddered. “And his Latin pronunciation is perfect – wayni, weedy, weeky, and so forth.”

      Lord Anguish surfaced, waving a doubtful haggis sandwich. “Aye, but is he bent? Gay, ye ken – ambisextrous. A’body kens Jamie the Saxt is the original chocolate moose. Whit aboot that?”

      The Wizard frowned. “In that respect, I admit, our impostor has proved a disappointment. He showed not the slightest interest in a screaming pansy introduced to him during training – an agent known, incidentally, as the King’s Quair.”

      “You mean King’s Queer, surely?” objected Frey Bentos.

      “No, Quair,” said the Wizard. “He was an Irish pansy. However,” he continued, “it boots not, since the real king is not averse to female company also. Mind you,” he added, glancing at the cauldron-screen, which now showed the plume-hatted impostor slavering lustfully as he poured roulette chips down the cleavage of his statuesque companion, “’twere well if we fed that little blighter bromide before he reaches Scotland, or people may start wondering.”

      “Who’s thee beembo?” asked Don Collapso, smacking eager lips.

      “That, senors,” said the Wizard significantly, “is none other than the Castilian hidalga whose skill and daring as a secret agent are known and feared from the Indies to Cathay, the Mata Hari of Manzanilla, mistress of disguise and intrigue, she who set up the fatal hit on Henri Quatre of France, filched the industrial secret of caviar from Ivan the Terrible, and brought the Paris ambulance service to a standstill on St Bartholomew’s Eve! Yes, senors,” and his eyes shone with admiring glitter, “’tis she, none other, La Infamosa!”

      There were startled gasps around the table, and even Clnzh stopped toying with his girdle of shrunken heads. “La Infamosa!” they whispered. “Wow! Por los Entranos de Dios! So that’s what she looks like! How d’you disguise those, for Goad’s sake? La Infamosa! An’ I colled her a beembo! Well, if that doan’t beat fried chicken!” etc. The Wizard switched off the cauldron and rapped sharply on the table.

      “Enough, senors! It sufficeth that La Infamosa is bringing this impostor to our border country where,” he leaned forward, glinting evilly, “the real King James is about to begin one of his periodic hunting and reiver-hanging trips. Thus the scene will be set for the first stage of our master-plan, Operation Heretic, which will consist of the secret substitution of our impostor for the Scottish monarch. Full details of how this switch, codenamed Jimsnatch, is to be accomplished, are contained in dossiers which you will collect at the door on your way out; nothing has been overlooked. Aye, senors – only a few days hence, we shall have the authentic James the Sixth under wraps, while our impostor will be lording it in Edinburgh and occupying the royal box at Murrayfield, unsuspected by any!”

      “And then?” Don Collapso gulped Malaga with wolfish eagerness.

      “Then!” quo’ the Wizard, rising to his full skeletal height, sparks flying from his silver coiffure, “then, when the bastard Queen of England turns up her toes – Ah, God, let it be soon! – our impostor will succeed to the English throne! Think of it, senors! Our man in Whitehall, wi’ power unlimited! In no time flat under orders from the Madrid hotline, he will have the English state on the brink of collapse! First,” he chuckled malevolently, “he will alter the county boundaries, then decimalise the currency, make them drink beer by the litre, introduce comprehensive education, bring in hordes of asylum-seekers, subvert the heretic Church of England with gospel singers, undermine the national diet with garlic and peppers, cause psychedelic music to be played in their pubs, dribble away their sovereignty to foreign powers, and even,” his voice sank to a grating whisper, “install a baseball diamond at Lord’s.” A gasp of awe-struck amazement greeted this diabolic proposal. “The fibre of the English will be shredded to tatters! They won’t know who they are, even! Aye, where the great Armada failed, thanks to the endemonised Drake and the abominable disinformation of those villains Fishe and McCaskill, our great Operation Heretic will be a stone-ginger shoo-in!”

      “Hallelujah an’ Opus Dei!” interposed Frey Bentos, getting all fanatical. “Yes, sirree, an’ the way’ll be paved for peaceful takeover by our good ole boy King Philip an’ the True Faith! ’Fore yuh kin skin a cat, the red’n’gold bannah of Castile will be a-wavin’ an’ a-flutterin’ o’er the Tower o’ London, they’ll be standin’ in line for bull-fights at Wembley, an’ con-fused Anglo-Saxons will be drivin’ on the right-hand side an’ takin’ wrong exits with the road-signs bein’ in Spanish an’ all! Yes, suh!”

      Delighted exclamations sounded round the table, Don Collapso choked with glee on his Malaga, Clnzh gibbered in savage triumph, and only one cautionary belch marred the general jubilation.

      “Haud on a meenit,” cried Lord Anguish, looking owlish as he voiced the national pessimism. “Are we no’ a wee thingy pree-mature? Ye’ll substitute this impoaster fur Oor Jimmy, ye say – but suppose some o’ oor guid Scots lords sees the difference an’ blaws the whustle oan him –”

      “You will see to it that they don’t!” snapped the Wizard. “By judicious distribution of gold and unlimited Cutty Sark – why, half the Scottish nobility are crooked anyway, or crazy enough to sell their souls for a Partick Thistle season ticket, and the other half will go along just for laughs. They would, in their own parlance, boil their grannies down for soap!”

      “Aye, a’ right!” quavered Anguish. “But even if ye get oor nobility tae recognise the impoaster – or raither, no’ tae recognise him,” he added, sniggering, “are ye sure he’s up tae the job? Does he ken the wurrds of ‘Flower o’ Scotland’, for instance?”

      “He sings it in his bath!” snapped the Wizard. “Word perfect!”

      “Aye, weel, naebuddy in Scotland is,” sniffed Lord Anguish, “so ye’d better tell him tae forget them pronto.” He inhaled another portion of dunked haggis and slipped comatose from his chair.

      “La Infamosa shall be informed,” said the Wizard. “Nay, senors, nought shall go amiss – our plan is silky smooth and lubricated to perfection. But should some unforeseen impediment occur, know that a secret mini-Armada, manned by Mediterranean football hooligans, is e’en now lying off the Solway coast disguised as peaceful shrimp-shooters, ready to invade at a given СКАЧАТЬ