"P. N. Elrod - Vampire Files 08 - The Dark Sleep" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

while working a case. In the winter he claimed the layer of small overlapping steel plates kept him warm
by cutting the wind. McCallen was probably nursing some knuckle bruises himself for his punch.

"Charles, this stinks," I groaned, fighting for balance.

"Indeed. I believe the management is about to ask us to leave."

That was putting it mildly. The manager stormed up just then and told us to get the hell out or he'd call
the cops. Lots of other people were talking at once, wanting to know what was going on and if there
would be more of it. One couple ducked out, forgetting to pay their bill, and that set up a squawk from
the girl at the register. Escott was on top of things, though, and waving a five-dollar bill under the
manager's nose to catch his attention.

"I believe this will be more than sufficient to cover the various damages, sir. I'll just retrieve our lady
companion from your powder room and we shall be happy to vacate the premises." He put the five in the
man's hand then tottered toward the back to bang on the door, calling for Miss Sommerfeld to come out.
He was careful to use only her first name. She eventually emerged, sniffling and red of eye. He took her
arm and swept her away, urging me to hurry as well.

I heal pretty fast, even from wood, but it still hurt like the devil as I stumbled out after them accompanied
by laughter, hoots, and other verbal disapproval from the cafe patrons. Not the best of exits, as Escott
might have said. He'd parked his big brown Nash fairly close and was handing Miss Sommerfeld into the
passenger seat as I came up. I crawled into the back and resisted the temptation to lie down again. The
change in elevation I endured while standing up had been enough sick-making fun for one life.

Escott hit the starter, flicked on the lights, and shifted gears, easing us into the traffic. He threw a wry
look at the cafe front as we sailed past. "I'm glad that's not a place I normally frequent lest I should regret
its loss. I fear we none of us will be welcome back there again."

It didn't matter to me: I'd stopped eatingтАФso to speakтАФlast August. Miss Sommerfeld had probably
never been in such a place before and likely never would be again. We'd come out ahead on that, at
least.

She seemed pretty much recovered in terms of self-possession, but was in need of outside repairs. Her
lip rouge was smeared across her chin and her mascara had melted and run down both sides of her nose.
She was also very much on the boil.

"Now what?" she demanded, her voice thick. "He's still got my papers."

"Mr. Fleming and I shall recover them," said Escott, sounding more confident than I felt. I noticed my
specific inclusion on the deal. He had some dirty work planned for me. That's how it usually worked
when something went wrong.

"How? Jason knows about you and will be on guard. He's sure to move them, or put them in a
safety-deposit box."

"Not to worry. We'll merely fall back, regroup, and plan the next attack."
"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" She sounded excited at the prospect.

"I doubt that will be necessary. Have you his home address?"