"Mack Bolan - Stony Man - Message to America" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bolan Mack)

Stony Man # 35
Message to America

CHAPTER ONE

Riga, Latvia
Maritime Fishing Docks
3:30 a.m. Local Time

David McCarter stamped his rubber-booted feet on
the pier's wet planking, trying to drive the chill from
his toes. Through the wide gaps between the boards,
he could see the Daugava River, black and swirling
below. The stink of rotting fish that rose from the
water obliterated the salt tang of the Baltic Sea, which
was less than a mile downstream; it made McCafret
remember the old joke about sausage, that anyone
who'd seen it made would never eat it. He dragged
on the loosely packed, harsh Belomor cigarette he
was smoking and wondered to bloody hell if he was
ever going to be able to face another plate of fish and
chips.
The barrel-chested man at McCarter's side nudged
him with a half-full Kuban vodka bottle. Gary Man-
ning was dressed like McCarter, in a baggy khaki pea
coat with the collar turned up, worn wool pants, blue
watch cap, rubber boots and crusty knit gloves with
the fingertips hacked off. Under the glare of the pier's
lamppost, dew glistened on the naps of their caps and




coats; it dripped from the lines and cables of the
trawlers and tugboats tied up along the quay.
The lateness of the hour meant nothing to the Riga
trawl fleet, which worked around the clock during
fishing season. A nearly constant stream of small, die-
sel-powered trucks rumbled back and forth in front of
the two men, towing fish carts between trawlers and
the processing plants, moving pieces of heavy equip-
ment and supplies to and from the boats. Marine en-
gines idled, rivet guns whacked, hoists and chains
clanked and creaked, providing a background din that
would hide both automatic-weapons fire and screams.
McCarter and Manning blended into the general
chaos like barnacles on a piling. They might have
been a pair of trawler crewmen returning to their ship
after a night on the town, or boat refitters on a mid-
shift booze break.