"Allston, Aaron - Doc Sidhe 01 - Doc Sidhe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allston Aaron)

One elevator was already open. They piled into it, Jean-Pierre sliding shut first the gratelike outer door and then the matching inner door, pulling up on the handle that sent the elevator upward.
The elevator rose three stories into what had to be a hangar. It was enormous, taking up at least two building stories; the floor was concrete and splashed with oil. There were work-benches and tools, rolling carts, and what looked liked oversized car engines hanging from chains and pulleys. On one side of the big chamber was a strange carlike vehicle, a rounded lozenge forty feet long and ten wide; it rested on a series of struts with wheels at the bottom, and a large, irregular mass of what looked like tan sails lashed to the top.
Noriko headed over to a wall-mounted board of large mechanical switches and pushed one up.
There was an immediate grinding noise from overhead and the lights dimmed briefly. Then, slowly and ponderously, one large section of roof, directly over the flooring, began to open up. It was a huge door powered by mechanical hinges. Above it, Harris could see a widening stripe of nighttime sky, clouds reflecting the city lights below them. It had clouded up in the time since he was brought here. It was sprinkling, and a stray breeze tossed droplets of rain into their faces.
The thup-thup-thup grew louder. It took Harris a moment to spot its source: a vague, dark shape with tiny red and green lights glinting on its belly. It got bigger until light from the hangar bathed the underside.
It descended into the hangar, a diamond shape all in dark blue, with a helicopter-style rotor at either end. It was about as large as a Coast Guard rescue helicopter, but broader in the middle where the diamond shape was at its widest. It touched down on four wheels.
As the rotors spun down, Noriko returned the switch to its original position; the overhead door groaned and began to close again. On a narrow end of the helicopterЧrotorkite? thatТs what Noriko had called itЧa gullwing door opened. A man climbed out and dropped to the hangar floor.
He was tallЧtaller even than Harris, the first man Harris had seen here who didnТt make him feel like some sort of Viking invader. He was broad-shouldered but otherwise built lean, and moved as gracefully as a dancer.
He wore loose-fitting dark slacks tucked into high leather boots, and was bundled into a waist-length coat of yellow leather worn over a white shirt with an elaborate frilled collar. As he turned toward Harris and the others, he tugged off a yellow leather helmet fitted with archaic glass goggles; out tumbled shoulder-length hair. Hair that was pure white, the precise white and softness of thick clouds. Hair that didnТt quite conceal the most sharply pointed ears Harris had yet seen.
His features were young, of a man perhaps thirty, but there was nothing youthful in his unsettling, pale blue eyes.
He saw Harris and stopped. With a trace of curiosity in his expression, he looked Harris over before turning to the other three.
УA guest,Ф Alastair said, gesturing at Harris. УYou remember guests, donТt you? We used to have them from time to time. Doc, this is Harris Greene, who wears blue so we donТt understand the name. Harris, this is your host, DocЧDoctor Desmond MaqqRee, founder of the Sidhe Foundation.Ф He pronounced it УShe Foundation.Ф
Doc looked at Harris again, his lips moving a little; he appeared to be working out a problem. Finally, in a surprisingly deep and rich voice, he said, УGrace upon you, Harris, health and wealth, love and children, and on all your line.Ф
УHi,Ф Harris said.
УHigh.Ф Doc wasnТt returning the greeting; he was puzzling it out. Alastair snickered at his obvious discomfiture.

It took twenty minutes, as Doc and Jean-Pierre checked the rotorkite from end to end, for Harris to repeat his story. Doc had him back up and go over several points and incidents; he paid special attention to HarrisТ descriptions of the glorious blond man. They returned to the laboratory before the story was done. Doc was removing his pilotТs gear and settling on one of the sofas when Harris described the dwarf whoТd thrown the concrete block. Doc looked over at Jean-Pierre.
The other man nodded grimly. УIТve already shown him the picture. It was Angus Powrie.Ф
Doc returned his attention to Harris. УYou mention a thing called a pannyfack.Ф
УFanny pack.Ф Harris looked around for it but didnТt see it.
Jean-Pierre brought it up from behind his chair and tossed it to Doc. УItТs all there. One pocketbook crowded with paper treasury notes and draft-notes I donТt recognize, many cards all bearing the name of Gabriela Dono-hooeyЧФ
УThatТs Donohue.Ф
УThank you, Harris, why donТt you and your friends learn to spell more sensibly?Чincluding one of the drover licenses like Harris had, some coins, a small gnarled canister of Сpepper spray,Т seasonings I suppose, and miscellaneous items. I also put HarrisТ keys and clasp-knife in there.Ф As Harris groped his pocket, belatedly realizing that his things wouldnТt be in these pants anyway, Jean-Pierre smiled mockingly at him. УMy apologies, Harris. I didnТt know whether or not you would want to come after me with that knife. I couldnТt risk it, once I noticed your knifeТs special trait.Ф
Harris frowned at that. УWhat trait is that?Ф
Doc looked at him, then unzipped the main pocket of the fanny pack. He pulled out the lockback hunting knife Harris usually carried. He turned it over, looking at the wooden tang with its brass ends. УUnusual design, but I see nothing else strange about it.Ф Then his thumb brushed the back of the blade.
Doc hissed and involuntarily dropped the knife back into the pack. He put the last joint of his thumb into his mouth and looked curiously at Harris. Then he blew on his injured thumb, on the blister Harris saw rising there, and asked, УYou carry a knife with a steel blade, Harris?Ф
УSure. Why not?Ф
УOdd question. Because it will make you sick. Noriko at least has the sense to keep her steel fully sheathed when sheТs not using it. You must touch that blade every time you put your hand in your pocket.Ф
УSo what?Ф Harris moved over to Doc, then reached into the fanny pack and came up with his knife. He held it so that the closed blade touched his skin. Then, slowly and with exaggerated care, he opened it out and placed the blade across his palm.
He lifted the blade to show them there was no problem with his skin. The surprised reactions of the other four were very gratifying. Then, with malicious humor, he slowly drew the back of the blade across his tongue, and was rewarded with a startled hiss from Alastair.
Jean-Pierre stood and took a step away from Harris. УHeТs obviously insane, Doc. A high degree of immunity, surely. But mad anyway.Ф
Doc also stood, looking troubled. УI donТt think so. He shows no pain at all.Ф
УCompletely immune,Ф Alastair said. УIТve heard of such people, but never thought IТd live long enough to see one.Ф
Harris folded and pocketed the knife. In spite of the fact he didnТt know what any of this meant, he felt strangely superior. He rooted around in the pack, retrieved and pocketed his keys, and then took the fanny pack back to the sofa.
He told himself that all he wanted to do was make sure she hadnТt lost anything. But after he determined that the pack still held GabyТs keychain and pocketbook, he kept looking.
On the chain was her canister of defensive pepper spray. Harris grinned at the thought of Jean-Pierre trying to hose down a salad with the stuff. Maybe he should let him try; that might be entertaining. But the canister was strangely twisted, as if exposed to great heat, and the plastic spray mechanism on top was melted and fused, obviously not usable. HeТd seen it only two days ago, and it was normal then.
He looked in the fanny packТs other compartment; it still held things he didnТt care to prowl through, like wadded facial tissues, bottles of nail polish, tampons.
The others murmured among themselves, excluding him from their conversation. That was fine. He used the opportunity to sneak a look through the contents of her pocketbook. Maybe there heТd find some clue explaining why sheТd left him. He had a right to know, didnТt he? He ignored the little voice that immediately whispered No.
Two credit cards, two gas cards, a New York driverТs license that gave her address on Waverly, an employee identification card for the local UHF TV station she served as program manager, her miniature address book, thirty dollars plus change, her checkbook showing less than two hundred dollars in the bank, miscellaneous other effects.
No photograph of some new guy who looked like he belonged on a soap opera. No letter to her friend Elaine explaining the situation. No checklist detailing the characteristics of her ideal man with notes on where Harris fell short. No names in her address book that he didnТt recognize. Of course, it could be someone they both already knew. Zeb? Nah.
A shadow fell across Harris; he started guiltily and looked up at Doc, whoТd appeared beside his couch without making a sound. УThe Changeling,Ф said Doc.
УHuh?Ф
УThe blond man you describe sounds like the Changeling. I do not know his true name. HeТs a criminal. His men rob treasuries, brew and sell glitter-bright, and try to control rulers and industries. ItТs very bad to know that an old-time strong-arm man like Angus Powrie is working with him. I want you to take us where you saw them.Ф
УIТm not sure I can find it again. I wasnТt looking at a map when I was running away from the little son of a bitchЧФ
Harris realized that Doc was no longer listening. The white-haired man frowned, staring at the pocketbook in HarrisТ hands, and reached down to pluck the driverТs license away. УThis is Gabrielle.Ф
УItТs Gabriela. ItТs Spanish. She goes by Gaby.Ф
Doc gave him a puzzled look. УThis cameo is very bad, but it is definitely her. Gabrielle.Ф He turned back to the others and showed them the license. УHave any of you seen her?Ф
Alastair shook his head. УJust you, Doc. She never talks in when weТre around. We decided that she was either imaginary, or sweet on you.Ф
Doc spun to face Harris again, his expression oddly intent. УAnd this is your lover, the woman you rescued.Ф
УIf you can call it a rescue, yeah. How do you know her?Ф His tone was more hostile than he intended. He reined in his emotions.