"Evans,.Linda.-.Sleipnir" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

my face!"

Nobody should have to argue with an angry Norwegian before
breakfast. I'm not human until I've had coffeeЧwhich probably
explained my mood, since it'd been a week since I'd had any. I got
myself clear of the sleeping bag, and flexed my knees, trying to
limber up before we came to blows. He was older than I was, but
probably in better shape. My leg still hurt from the gunshot wounds,
and a slithering fall down a sharp rockface two days previously
hadn't done the rest of me any good, either.

Klaus scowled. His round face took on the look of a satanic elf.
"Damn it," he growled, making two words of it, "we have walked
deeper than anyone. You have the record, Herr Barnes. We have
pushed Garm's Cave far enough. We turn back now. Our supplies
are lowЧ"

I nudged to see how far he'd give. "Tonight, Bjornssen! Or didn't I
pay you enough?"

He looked for a moment like he wanted to punch me. In fact, when
his fists tightened down I set myself to feint to one side and end
this the hard way. Then he just turned his back and slammed his
gear together. I let tense gut muscles soften, and started breathing
normally again. Another day gained . . .

Given the white-lipped set of his face, I halfway expected him to
march back toward the surfaceЧalone. But he didn't. He just
slouched down with his back to me, and started wolfing his
breakfast. For all the attention Bjornssen paid me, I might have
been part of the rock under his khaki-clad backside.

I thought about apologizing, but I wasn't about to go back now. Not
after the price I'd paidЧmoney and bloodЧto get this far. So I
kept my mouth shut and let him stew in silence. When I was ready
to go, I stood up and shrugged into my pack.

Bjornssen glanced back and eyed my unorthodox gear. He
scowled again; then deliberately reached for another handful of
dried apples from his own supplies. I shrugged metaphoric
shoulders. Klaus Bjornssen had known what I was carrying from
the outset. That gear was partly why his fee had been so high.
Besides, he was the only guide I'd been able to find willing to take
a rank amateur into a cave only professionals had dared "push"
before.

Part of the reason I'd been riding him so hard was the hope he'd
finally blow his temper and leave me to get back out the best way I
knew how. To date, that part of the plan had failed. Call it
professional ethics or masochism, Bjornssen had absorbed all the