Games Traitors Play. Jon Stock. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Jon Stock
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Шпионские детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007352357
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      JON STOCK

      Games Traitors Play

       In memory of my father Peter Stock

      ‘For while the treason I detest, the traitor still I love’

      John Hoole

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 29

      Chapter 30

      Chapter 31

      Chapter 32

      Chapter 33

      Chapter 34

      Chapter 35

      Chapter 36

      Chapter 37

      Chapter 38

      Chapter 39

      Chapter 40

      Chapter 41

      Chapter 42

      Chapter 43

      Chapter 44

      Chapter 45

      Chapter 46

      Chapter 47

      Chapter 48

      Chapter 49

      Chapter 50

      Chapter 51

      Chapter 52

      Chapter 53

      Chapter 54

      Chapter 55

      Chapter 56

      Chapter 57

      Chapter 58

      Chapter 59

      Chapter 60

      Chapter 61

      Chapter 62

      Chapter 63

      Chapter 64

      Chapter 65

      Chapter 66

      Chapter 67

      Chapter 68

      Chapter 69

      Chapter 70

      Chapter 71

      Chapter 72

      Chapter 73

      Chapter 74

      Chapter 75

      Chapter 76

      Chapter 77

      Chapter 78

      Chapter 79

      Chapter 80

      Chapter 81

      Chapter 82

      Chapter 83

      Chapter 84

      Chapter 85

      Chapter 86

      Chapter 87

      Chapter 88

      Chapter 89

      Chapter 90

      Chapter 91

      Chapter 92

      Chapter 93

      Chapter 94

      Chapter 95

      Chapter 96

      Chapter 97

      Chapter 98

      Chapter 99

      Chapter 100

      Chapter 101

      Chapter 102

      Chapter 103

      Chapter 104

      Chapter 105

      Chapter 106

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Also by the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       1

      A hot afternoon in Marrakech, and the square was already full of people and promise. If the storyteller was aware of the crowd around him, he didn’t show it. The old man sipped at his sweet mint tea and sat down on a plastic chair, first brushing something off it with his empty hand. Had he looked up, he would have seen men and women surge across the square like iron filings, drawn by the magnetism of his act. But he never raised his head, not until he was ready to begin his tale.

      Daniel Marchant wondered if he prayed in these moments, or was just running a mental finger over the bookshelves, choosing his narrative. He had been watching this particular storyteller – or halaka – for a