"Brown, Dale - Patrick 2 - Day of the Cheetah" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Dale)

Prologae
The Connecticut Academy, USSR
Saturday, 2 May 1985, 0748 EET
"KEN JAMES" STAMPED his feet on the half-frozen dirt, rubbed
his hands together quickly, then wrapped them around the shaft
of a big Spaulding softball bat.
"Cmon, dammit," he yelled to the tall, lanky kid on the
pitcher's mound.
"Wait," yelled the pitcher, "Tony Scorcelli.- James made
a few test swings, hitching up his jacket around his armpits.
Scorcelli pounded the softball in his glove, then carefully, as
if trying to toss a ring over a Coke bottle, threw the ball un-
derhanded toward home plate.
The ball sailed clear over Ken's head.
"What do you call that?" James stepped away from the
plate, leaned on the bat, shaking his head at Scorcelli.
The catcher, "Tom Bell," trotted back to retrieve the ball.
When he picked'it up from under a clump of quack grass along
the backstop, he glanced over at the bench, noting the displea-
sure of the school's headmaster, "Mr. Roberts," who was
making notes on a clipboard. The catcher knew that meant
trouble.
All the Academy's students were serious about these once-
a-week softball games. Here, even before perestroika, they
learned competition was necessary, even desirable. Winning
was all, losing was failure. Every opportunity to prove one's
superior leadership, physical and intellectual skills was moni-
tored and evaluated.
"All right," James said as the catcher, Bell, tossed the ball




2 DALE BROWN
back to Scorcelli. "This time open your damn eyes when you
pitch. "
Scorcelli's second pitch wasn't much better than the first, a
high Gateway Arch that dropped almost straight down- on top
of home plate, but James bit on it, swung the bat with all his
strength and missed.
"Hey, hot shot, you're supposed to hit the ball .
James swung even harder at the next pitch, clipped it foul
up and over the chain-link backstop.
" One more foul and you are out," the first baseman "Kelly
Rogers" sang out. "Intramural rules-"
"Shove your intramural rules up your ass, Rogers,` James
yelled at him. The first baseman looked confused and said
nothing. Roberts made another notation on his clipboard as
Scorcelli got ready for the next pitch.
It was low. James wound up, gritted his teeth . . . then