"Steven Gould - Jumper 02 - Reflex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

She was about to relax when she saw him, a man coming from the West Building, walking
slowly, casually checking out the patrons seated at the cafe. Over half the five hundred seats were full
and he was pausing often to examine a particular grid of tables, then moving to another.

He'd actually walked past Millie already, but hadn't seen her as she'd been blocked by a shop
display. She moved around that same display unit and positioned herself to peer over it, between two
large coffee-table art books.

He was average height with blond hair cut very short around a large bald spotтАФlike a monk's
tonsureтАФand wearing a dark blue windbreaker and slacks.

He could be looking for his wife. His kids. His grandmother.

She looked at the way he stood and something made her doubt his innocence. She pulled off her
blue raincoat and rolled it, white liner out, into a compact bundle. There was a lull at the counter and
she stepped up quickly and purchased a scarf, a fabric printed with a reproduction of Mary Cassatt's
Children Playing on the Beach. She paid quickly, with cash, and asked for a larger bag than the one
the clerk initially offered her. "For my coat," she explained, smiling.

The clerk shrugged and gave her a paper bag with plastic handles. "Thank you so much."

The "monk" had stopped at the edge of the caf├й, where the walkways terminated, his eyes
directed toward the East Wing.

Millie ducked into the restroom, right by the Gift Shop, and hurriedly tied the scarf around her
head, gypsy style. Wrapped and tied, it transformed the kids on the beach to just another abstract
pattern in tans and blues with the cheeks of the girl a pink highlight above the knot. She exited slowly
and walked across to the Espresso and Gelato Bar.

He was still standing at the end of the walkway but now he was talking on a cell phone.

Is he NSA? They said they'd keep clear.

She was trembling and, she realized, afraid, but it didn't make her want to run. It made her want
to break things. She focused on the man's bald spot. Or heads. Fight or flight. She was surprised
which side of the divide she came down on.

If I could only hear what he was saying. Unconsciously, she was leaning forward, even though
he was over sixty feet away, at the other end of the restaurant, straining to hear with her entire being.
 "тАФsign of her. We picked her up at the hotel. She dropped the black woman on Columbia then
came to the National Gallery." The accent was vaguely British, but notтАФperhaps Australian.
"Hyacinth followed her into the East Building and her team is staking out the ground floor exits while
I'm covering that underground walkway to the other building."

Millie nearly screamed, but managed to contain it. Her knees wobbled and she sagged heavily to
the right, clutching at the waist-high barrier that separated the Cascade Caf├й from the walkway.

She was standing right behind the Monk. She turned her back on him, breathing deeply.