"Linda Evans - Time Scout 1 - Time Scout" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

sometime." Skeeter's wide smile, which was, as far as anyone had ever been
able
to tell, the only genuine thing about him, was infectious.
"Sure," Malcolm laughed. "One quart liquefied mare's dung, two quarts sour
Roman wine, and three pints Tiberian mud. Spread carefully with an artist's
brush, let dry for two weeks, then launder in cold water. Works wonders on raw
wool."
Skeeter's eyes had widened. "Gad. You're serious." His own garments, as
always, were fastidiously neat and apparently new. Where he'd obtained them,
Malcolm didn't want to know. "Well, good luck," Skeeter offered "I have an
appointment to keep." He winked. "See you around."
The slim young man grinned like an imp counting damned souls and slipped
off
into the growing crowd, Malcolm surreptitiously checked his belt pouch to be
sure the battery-powered engraver and business cards were still there.
 "Well," he told himself, "at least he never seems to roll one of us
'eighty-sixers." He glanced at one of several dozen chronometers which
depended
from the distant ceiling and checked the countdown on Gate Six.
Time to get to work.
The crowd was growing denser. The noise volume increased exponentially.
Hired
baggage handlers worked to balance awkward loads comprised of odd-sized
parcels
and sacks and leather satchels, while Time Tours guides double-checked their
customer lists and gave last-minute instructions. Ticket takers at the
entrance
to Gate Six's main ramp waved through a couple of company executives on their
way to check the upper platform. Already Malcolm estimated the crowd at some
seventy-five people.
"Too big for a tour group," he muttered. Time Tours, Inc. was getting
greedy.
The noise of tourist voices and baggage handlers grunting at their work
bounced
off girders high overhead and reverberated, creating a roar of confused
echoes.
At least with a group this size, he ought to be able to find something. He
plastered a hopeful smile on his face, fished into the leather pouch at his
waist for business cards, and got busy.
"Hello," he introduced himself to the first prospect, extending a hand to a
tall, robust man whose tan and fair hair said "California tycoon." "Please
allow
me to introduce myself. Malcolm Moore, freelance guide."
The man shook his hand warily, then glanced at the business card he'd
proffered. It read:
Malcolm Moore, Time Guide
Rome AD 47 3 London 1888 3 Denver 1885
Other Destinations Available upon Request
Experience Adventure without the Hassle of a Tour Schedule!
Private Side Tours and In-Depth Guide Services for