"Anderson, Poul - Corridors Of Time v1 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

crew-cut sandy hair, blue eyes, blunt snub-nosed features that
reflected no more than his twenty-six years. But he was wider in
chest and shoulders, thicker in arms and legs, than most men, and
he moved like a cat.



"Don't be scared, son," he sneered.



The guard reddened. "Watch yourself, buster."



Oh, hell, Lockridge thought. Why take my feelings out on him?
He's been decent enough. -Well, who else is there to hit back at?



Anger died away as he walked down the corridor. In the grindstone
sameness of the past two weeks, any break was treasured. Even a
talk with his lawyer was an event, though one to be paid for
afterward with a sleepless night, raging at the man's bland
unwillingness to fight his case. So he gnawed the question of who
this might be today. A woman-his mother had flown hack to
Kentucky. A dish-one girl friend had come to see him, and she was
kind of pretty, but that had been a morbid "How could you?" scene
and he didn't expect her to return. Some female reporter? No, by
now the local papers had all interviewed him.



He came out into the visiting room. A window opened on the city,
traffic noises, a park across the street, new-leafed trees and
heartbreakingly blue sky full of swift little clouds, a breath of
Midwestern springtime that made him doubly aware of the stench
he had left. A couple of guards kept watch on those who sat at the
long tables and whispered to each other.



"Over there," said Lockridge's escort.



He turned and saw her. She stood by the assigned chair. The heart
jumped in him. My God!