JК
The English Assassin :: Silva Daniel
Страница: 164 из 209Therewas nothing she could do now to prepare further. The pieces were so imbedded in her cells that she would play them not from memory but from instinct. Now she simply drew sound from the violin and allowed the sound to flow through her body. It’s just you and me, fiddle, she thought. Just you and me.
She could hear the murmur of a conversation beyond her closed door. She threw a switch in her mind, and it was gone. Through the walls seeped the low din of the upper hall beginning to fill with members of the audience. She threw the switch, and it too was gone.
It’s just you and me, fiddle. Just you and me…
She thought of the man in Gabriel’s photographs, the assassin known as the Englishman. It had been a long time since she had been able to put her trust in a man. She supposed her father’s betrayal-the lies he had told her about the reasons for her mother’s suicide-had spoiled her for all men. But tonight she would place her life in the hands of Gabriel Allon. Her father had set in motion a plan to try to atone for terrible sins he had committed. He was murdered before he was able to finish what he started. Gabriel would have to finish it for him. And Anna would help him the only way she knew how-by playing her violin. Beautifully.
The bubble began to close around her, to enfold her. There was no assassin, no photograph of her father with Adolf Hitler, no Gabriel Allon. Just her and the violin.
There was a faint tapping at the door. Instantly, Anna’s bow stopped.
“Five minutes, Miss Rolfe.”
“Thank you.”
The bow slid along the string once more. The sound flowed through her body. The violin turned to fire against her skin. The bubble closed around her. She was lost. Soon the door was open and she was floating toward the upper hall. As she entered the room she assumed there was applause-she knew this only from experience, not from any information she was receiving from her senses. She could not see the audience, nor could she hear it.
She dipped her head and waited an instant before lifting the violin above her shoulder and pressing it to her neck. Then she laid the bow on the strings, hesitated, and began to play.
GABRIEL established his watch post beneath Tintoretto’s Temptation of Christ. Slowly, his eyes swept the room. Person by person, face by face, he searched the chamber for the man in the photograph. If the assassin was there, Gabriel did not see him.
He checked the disposition of his team. Yitzhak stood directly across the hall from Gabriel.
She could hear the murmur of a conversation beyond her closed door. She threw a switch in her mind, and it was gone. Through the walls seeped the low din of the upper hall beginning to fill with members of the audience. She threw the switch, and it too was gone.
It’s just you and me, fiddle. Just you and me…
She thought of the man in Gabriel’s photographs, the assassin known as the Englishman. It had been a long time since she had been able to put her trust in a man. She supposed her father’s betrayal-the lies he had told her about the reasons for her mother’s suicide-had spoiled her for all men. But tonight she would place her life in the hands of Gabriel Allon. Her father had set in motion a plan to try to atone for terrible sins he had committed. He was murdered before he was able to finish what he started. Gabriel would have to finish it for him. And Anna would help him the only way she knew how-by playing her violin. Beautifully.
The bubble began to close around her, to enfold her. There was no assassin, no photograph of her father with Adolf Hitler, no Gabriel Allon. Just her and the violin.
There was a faint tapping at the door. Instantly, Anna’s bow stopped.
“Five minutes, Miss Rolfe.”
“Thank you.”
The bow slid along the string once more. The sound flowed through her body. The violin turned to fire against her skin. The bubble closed around her. She was lost. Soon the door was open and she was floating toward the upper hall. As she entered the room she assumed there was applause-she knew this only from experience, not from any information she was receiving from her senses. She could not see the audience, nor could she hear it.
She dipped her head and waited an instant before lifting the violin above her shoulder and pressing it to her neck. Then she laid the bow on the strings, hesitated, and began to play.
GABRIEL established his watch post beneath Tintoretto’s Temptation of Christ. Slowly, his eyes swept the room. Person by person, face by face, he searched the chamber for the man in the photograph. If the assassin was there, Gabriel did not see him.
He checked the disposition of his team. Yitzhak stood directly across the hall from Gabriel.