"David,.Peter.-.Spider-Man.2" - читать интересную книгу автора (David Peter)

Man about to die, and he was going to take a sizable portion of a crowd with
him, and I saved him, me, with the strength and powers in these two arms. Whose
life have you saved today?
Yeah. That would help the situation, big-time.
УЕ disturbance,Ф Peter finished, displaying far less conviction than when heТd
started.
Aziz stared at him, giving him as much credence as if Peter had just said the
dog ate his homework, or that his grandmother had died for the fifth time.
УAnother disturbance? Always a disturbance.Ф His expression warred briefly
between amused incredulity and unfettered annoyance. Unfortunately for Peter,
the annoyance won out.
УOne more chance,Ф Aziz said, waving a finger in the air. УTwenty-one minutes
ago, in comes an order from Harmattan, Burton, and Smith. Woolworth Building.
Seventeen extra-large deep-dish pizzas.Ф
PeterТs heart was sinking with every new tidbit of information. HeТd delivered
to HB&S. They were cranky and demanding customers. The Woolworth Building was
many blocks downtown.Seventeen? How could this possibly get worse?
УIn eight minutes,Ф continued Aziz, answering PeterТs unspoken question, УI am
defaulting on JoeТs twenty-nine-minute guarantee. Then not only will I be
receiving no money for these pizzas, I will lose the customer forever to Pizza
Yurt.Ф
УWhy didnТt you send Salim?Ф Peter asked, trying to find a way around the
onerous task.
Aziz was already in motion, grabbing pizzas being brought out to him by sweating
chefs from the restaurant. УSalim was deported yesterday,Ф said Aziz briskly,
shoving the pizzas into PeterТs arms. УI have no hope but you. You must make it
in time.Ф
He kept stacking pizzas to the point where Peter couldnТt see over the top of
them. All the while he kept talking. УYou are a nice young man, Peter, but you
are not dependable. This is the last chance I can give you. You must cross
forty-two blocks in seven and one half minutes. Or your ass is to be fired.Ф
Not entirely sure why he was even bothering, Peter shot a glance at the clock on
the wall of JoeТs Pizza. It read 1:52. The banner with the twenty-nine-minute
guarantee on it flapped in the wind.
Peter couldnТt help but feel that since it was JoeТs bright idea to issue that
guarantee, why shouldnТt he be the one to undertake the impossible task that had
just been set out? HeТd met Joe once. Huge, beefy guy, could barely move his
arms anymore because of all the flab hanging from them. Picturing that guy
trying to dash forty-two blocks in less than eight minutes was an extremely
entertaining mental image.
It did not, however, bring Peter all that much amusement. Not when he was
weaving his way through bumper-to-bumper Midtown traffic. He wasnТt in danger of
falling off his cycle: Someone whose balance was so precise that he could walk
across a web-strand stretched fifty stories high wasnТt about to take a header
off a motorbike. But buildings didnТt try to hit you. They were comfortingly
steady. In this case, Peter had to remain hyperaware of taxis, crazy New York
drivers, and even crazier out-of-state drivers, all of whom seemed determined to
cut him off whenever possible. Plus he had to watch the angle of his turns;
although the pizzas were strapped to a rack behind him, they could still slide
within the boxes. He didnТt want to deliver seventeen pizzas, all of them with