"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

narrowed and a smile came to thin lips. Marcus shivered. Walk carefully, my
friend, she means to have blood. "I don't make fools' bets."
Skeeter took a dangerous step forward, eyes flashing angrily in the dim
light. "All right, how about we up the stakes a little, then? We'll make it a
real bet. Let the wager run for three weeks-hell, let's make it one month,
even. That'll take us right through the holidays. At the end, loser leaves TT-
86, bag and baggage, and never comes back."
Goldie's eyes widened for just a moment, causing Marcus to bite his lips to
hold back his protest-never mind a dire warning to take care. Then she
actually laughed. "Leave TT-86? Are you mad?"
"Are you chicken?"
For an instant, Marcus thought she might actually strike him.
"Done!" She spat out the word like a snake spitting venom. Then she whirled
on poor Brian Hendrickson, a man who wouldn't have cheated a stray flea. He
was watching the whole affair round-eyed. Goldie stabbed a long-nailed finger
at him. "You. I want you to officiate. This is a for-goddamn-real bet. I win
and we're rid of that two-bit little rat for good."
Skeeter's cheeks darkened. But that was the only sign of emotion. He
smiled. "I win and we're finally rid of the Duchess of Dross."
Goldie whirled on him, lips open to snap back something scathing, but Brian
Hendrickson stepped between them.
"All right, we have a wager challenged and accepted" The librarian glanced
from one to the other. "You two have no idea how much I would give to get out
of this, not to get stuck in the middle, but with a wager this serious,
somebody's got to keep you two as honest as possible.
"He sighed, then reluctantly admitted, "I guess I'm the man to do it, since
I know as much about rare coins and gems as you do, Goldie. All right, every
day each of you reports to me. I hold all winnings and track all losses. I
judge whether a winning counts. Goldie, you are forbidden to use your
expertise to scam tourists. You'll have to find some other way to cheat your
way to victory"
Brian's eyes revealed clearly how little pleasure he was taking in this,
but he went doggedly on. "Money earned legally doesn't count. And one more
thing. If either of you gets caught, you automatically lose. Understood?"
Goldie sniffed autocratically. "Understood."
Skeeter glared at her for a moment, naked desire for revenge burning in his
eyes. Marcus remembered what Skeeter had said, that night he'd been so drunk
he'd started confiding secrets Marcus had never dreamed existed. He'd known
already that his friend carried with him a monstrous capacity for cold,
calculating vengeance. That icy-cold desire now left Marcus terrified for
Skeeter's safety. He wanted to shout, "You don't need to prove yourself!" but
it was far too late, now. The money in his jeans pocket felt heavier than
ever, nearly as heavy as his heart.
His friend would spend the next few weeks doing exactly the kinds of things
Marcus was trying to make him stop doing, or he would risk having to leave the
station forever. Marcus didn't want to lose a friend, any more than the
Downtimer Council would want to lose a "Lost One" located and identified by
one of their members. Marcus prayed to any Roman or Gaulish gods and goddesses
that might be listening that Skeeter would win this bet, not Goldie.
She could afford to start over somewhere else.