The Hitler Diaries [antikvár]

The Hitler DiariesGrant took Lisa's hand and they pressed on through the trees. There was an eerie stillness, an absence of movement, just the flicker of lights at the edge of the band of forest and the sound of motors being forced through their paces. They made another few hundred yards and then paused for breath. Behind them a loose spangle of torchlights followed their trail. There was a crackle of automatic fire.They've seen us!' Lisa whispered.Grant shook his head. 'They're just trying to draw our fire so they can get a fix. Come on.'They started again, running as fast as they could in the darkness across the steep, broken ground with its treacherous blanket of snow. Under their thin clothes the sweat froze to their skins. Behind them the lights got closer.OneAt the age of seventy there is something intensely pleasurable in having a naked girl walk across the small of one's back. At all events, that was the view of Norman Cavendish, who, being seventy and having at that moment a young woman performing that function, felt that he was in a position to know.'Gabrielle- a little more over the shoulders, please.' A thin voice with a polished accent, a touch petulant.The girl laughed. She hopped on to one foot, curling her toes into the soft nap of the towel she was standing on and drew the other foot like a touch of breath up the old man's spine until it nestled in the cavity between the shoulder-blades, where the toes could play among the flaccid muscles. The old man sighed.'Is that all right?''Marvellous, my dear.'The toes danced on the flesh. The old man thought to himself that the sensuous capacity of the skin of the back was much underrated by physiologists. The girl gazed, bored and dreamily, into the heat haze and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.The land stretched out northwards, gentle chalk hills rolling towards the Garonne; the air heavy with heat and dust; the sky an irridescent blue. Swallows caracoled after insects; silence except for the dull throb of a tractor motor. In the vineyard Gabrielle watched the machine at work, a strange contraption raised on stilts so that it could straddle the rows of vines like a giant crab.'Patience, my dear. I'm sure that they will arrive. All in good time.' The old man tapped her leg with his bony finger and she moved her foot. He rolled on to his back and gestured towards a glass. 'Another drink - please.' A wheedling note in the voice suggested that she could refuse to obey and there-1