"Robert Doherty - Area 51 - The Reply" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doherty Robert)

9


make him think of comrades lost. Turcotte looked out at the bronze figures
representing the Marines who'd raised the flag on Mount Suribachi.
Duncan shifted her seat slightly and followed his gaze. "Ahh, glory and
honor," she said.
Turcotte tried to figure out if she was being sarcastic or serious. "They knew
what they were doing," he said.
"Still looking for the bad guy wearing the black hat?"
"I don't feel particularly proud about what I've done," Turcotte said. "We met
the enemy and they was us."
"Not all of us," she said.
Turcotte finished the rest of his beer. "No, not all of us."
"And General Gullick and the others were being controlled."
"Uh-huh." He crushed the empty can with one large fist. "I don't like it
here."
"That's good," Duncan said, "because something else has come up. That's why
I'm here."
"Oh?" Turcotte walked over to the bed and threw the can into a small garbage
can. He picked up his dress green jacket and held it in his hand as she walked
to the other side of the bed.
"We've received some information on a possible Airlia artifact site." She
pulled a sheet of paper out of the small briefcase she'd had with her. "Here's
the data. We'll be going soon to check it out."
"We?"
"We make a good team," Duncan said.
"Uh-huh." Turcotte took the paper but didn't look at it.

10
"I've got to go now," Duncan said.
Turcotte held the paper uncertainly.
"You're still willing to work on this?" Duncan asked, mistaking his
hesitation.
Turcotte straightened. "Oh, sure."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Duncan said as she opened the door.
"Yeah, okay."
The door swung shut. Turcotte walked over to where Duncan had sat and picked
up her beer can. It was almost full. He carried it to the window. The setting
sun reflected against the bronze Marines. He watched Duncan walk down the
sidewalk and get into a white sedan. As she drove away, he put the beer to his
lips and drained it in one long swallow.
"You've finally given me an exclusive, Johnny," Kelly Reynolds whispered at
the casket as she tossed a handful of dirt into the raw hole cut out of the
Tennessee countryside. "I wished it had worked out otherwise."
Kelly Reynolds looked over the casket at the mass of media being kept at a
distance by funeral personnel and local police.
"Did they get them all?" A woman's voice behind her caused Kelly to turn
around. Johnny Simmons's mother stood there, a black veil covering her drawn