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

Now what? Tossing the cuffs across the room didnТt magically cure Doc. His wrists still looked terrible. He was still out cold. And the cops wouldnТt stay unconscious forever. TheyТd wake up mad . . . and more were probably coming. Dammit!
Wait a second. HeТd been through their pocket goods while looking for the keys, and . . . Harris scrambled over to where one officerТs wallet lay; he flipped through it.
DriverТs license, Jay E. Costigan. Credit cards. Money.
No badge. No police ID.
He dug out the black manТs wallet. Same story. And this man had in his pocket a volt-meter device like the one Doc had taken from the attackers at the Monarch Building.
They werenТt police. They were more of the men whoТd grabbed Gaby. But that meant the cops wouldnТt be coming for him: good.
He left GabyТs apartment, ran to the next door up the hall, and pounded on it. Mr. Crenshaw was a bit of a nosy pain, but he was always willing to helpЧ
Crenshaw shouted from beyond the door, his voice wavering, УGo away! I have a gun! IТve called the police!Ф

For a moment, Doc imagined he was back in the burning house in Wickhollow, watching fire claim the body of Siobhan Damvert, feeling fire climb his sleeves and back.
Then, even through the cloud of pain, he knew. Poison. He was badly poisoned and probably in shock. And he was upside downЧbeing carried by someone with a jarring gait. He opened his eyes.
The backs of gray-clad legs, slowly and shakily descending a dark stairway. Every step shot pain through DocТs arms, which hung limp. УHarris?Ф
УDoc? Thank God. Can you walk?Ф
No. He wouldnТt manage ten steps. УI . . . yes.Ф
Harris waited until they reached the next landing, then lowered Doc as carefully as he could. Doc couldnТt bear to soften the descent with his arms; he took it on his shoulder and neck and let himself roll down until he was on his back.
Harris, sweating profusely and stinking of effort, stared helplessly down at him. He reached for DocТs hands, obviously thought better of it, and knelt beside him. He grabbed him around the torso and helped him sit up. Even that effort was almost too much; Doc almost passed out just getting upright. But a minute later Harris got Doc up on his feet, pulling DocТs arm over his shoulder. Doc didnТt let him know how much that hurt.
They took the stairs as fast as DocТs weakened, rubbery legs would allow. УWeТre on the second floor,Ф Harris said. УAlmost down. GabyТs next-door neighbor heard enough to scare him and he rolled the cops. The real ones, I mean. I can hear a siren. Man, IТve got to get you some medical help.Ф
Doc couldnТt lift his head but could shake it. УNo,Ф he whispered. УThey would kill me. By accident if nothing else. Get me clear of here.Ф
A dozen more bone-jarring steps and they were at the front door, then beyond. There was no traffic on the street, but the sirens were getting louder. Harris got Doc down the concrete steps and to the sidewalk, then turned away from the sound of sirens. УEasy does it. Look casual. Look drunk. If we can make it a couple of blocks, we can get to the subway and be away from here.Ф
Something stirred at the back of DocТs memory. It was so hard to think . . . УGaby Donohue was returning home.Ф
УShit.Ф
УNo need to curse.Ф
УRight, right. IТve got no reason at all.Ф

Chapter Eleven
Gaby put down the phone, took a deep breath, and told Elaine and Jim, УWe need to get out of here.Ф Then she explained.
It was a nerve-wracking ten minutes. They dressed, crept out the back door into the darkened yard and climbed clumsily over the back fence. A few minutes later and a block away, they were hammering on the back door to the house of one of ElaineТs suicide-hotline friends.
A good friend. She heard what Elaine had to say and volunteered Gaby her car with no hesitation. Then she set about opening up the bed in the couch for Elaine and Jim.
So her departure had come off without a problem. Her arrival at home was another matter.
When she pulled onto her own street, she saw the official vehicle, a squad car, parked right in front of her building. Something had obviously gone wrong here.
No parking availableЧas usual. She parked in a tow-away zone around the corner and ran up the stairs to her floor. She took a deep breath as she saw a uniformed officer emerging from her door. УHi,Ф she said. УI live here.Ф
The officer smiled. It wasnТt an amused smile. УGo right in.Ф
* * *
Three minutes later the black limousine cruised past the same block. The old man in the backseat looked over the police unit and made a disgusted noise. УTell the van to stay and watch. WeТll follow the other signal.Ф

Harris couldnТt have had more trouble juggling cats. He had to walk and support DocЧnot easy, as the man was half-unconscious and heavy. He had to make sure all the stuff heТd taken from the apartment didnТt spill out of his pockets, and that included three revolvers and the damned volt-meter gadget. Thank God these ugly slacks with the dorky high waistband had deep, deep pockets. And he had to figure out what to do next. Doc wasnТt conscious enough to do much thinking.
Run. That was first. Just outside the buildingТs main door, theyТd turned left, toward Bank Street, and rounded the corner before the sirens arrived. Harris heard the police car pull up in front of the building and cut its siren. The two of them werenТt spotted, a little bit of good luck mixed in with all the bad. Now they were headed toward the nearest subway station he could remember, at 7th Avenue and 14th, and he felt fresh out of ideas.
Why was that? Used to be he was full of ideas. Just in the last day, though, Doc and the others had been doing all the thinking for him. Hell, heТd been letting Zeb do all his thinking before that. He was out of the habit.
It was time to think again, and to think analytically. Like dissecting an opponentТs technique before moving against him.
Problem. Doc was hurt and had refused medical aid. That meant Harris had to do everything for both of them. No solution for it. Except maybe to get help Doc would accept. Harris could trust Zeb and make Doc accept it; maybe heТd stop by and visit his manager. Ex-manager.
He noticed under a streetlight that DocТs hands seemed to be a little better; the blisters hadnТt faded, but they had closed and the flesh around the wrists was showing a little pink among the gruesome cracking expanses of black. That was a hopeful sign, but he didnТt put much stock in it.
Problem. Somebody was after Gaby, and heТd have to track her down again. She probably wouldnТt go back to ElaineТs.
Wait a minute. He let go of DocТs arm with his right hand and began fishing in his pocket. The gizmo. Still there; he dragged it out, looked at it, and pushed the only switch to turn the thing on. It made a low buzzing sound and the little screen, set where a volt-meterТs dial would be, began to glow.
It was like a radar screen, but gold-toned and without the rotating line he was used to from TV. In the center was a big, fuzzy glow; it had to be Doc. Further away, another dot, also bright . . . headed more or less in his direction.
No, two dots. The second one was a lot closer and fainter. It wasnТt on-screen all the time.
Two dots, and only one of them could be Gabriela. Okay. Maybe, if the dots didnТt fade out completely, he could find her again with this thing.
Problem. Cops would be looking for him and Doc. Harris could blend in with a crowd . . . once he got some new clothes. Doc couldnТt, not as easily.
Both the faint and the strong signal had gotten closer and brighter as the two men walked, but as they descended the steps into the station, the fainter signal abruptly faded and disappeared. By the time they got to the bottom, the other signal had dimmed to nothing. The big signal in the center, DocТs signal, was as strong as ever.
Harris stared perplexed at the screen for a moment, then looked back up the steps. УDoc. Can you stand by yourself for a moment?Ф
Doc didnТt look up or speak, but he nodded.