"Charles L. Grant - Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

concentration, to bring it to his lips without spilling a drop, sip without choking.
It burned, and he was glad.
"So what do we do?" Havvick asked. He was in the corner booth with Ceil and Trish.
"Wait for the police."
"Don't ..." Trish had a handkerchief balled up in her hands. "Don't you think we should get away from ..." A fearful
look at the glass wall.
Neil tensed, but the man wasn't out there, and he finally said no, there had been enough opportunities for him to fire
again if he had wanted. Besides, he had a shotgun, and at that distance, and through thick glass, unless he was some
kind of magician, the damage wouldn't be all that bad, the injuries nonexistent. "But if you want, you can sit up above,
close the drapes. If it'll make you feel better."
Trish slid immediately out of the booth and hastened to the front. She didn't look at Kenny once.
"Feeling better, Mr. Maclaren?"
Surprised, he turned around and saw Willie standing behind the bar. His apron was gone. White shirt and white
trousers, white tie. He looked as if he was on his way to church in some tropical republic.
"Yeah," he said gratefully. "Much better."
It was true. In spite of the fact that a friend's body lay in the cold beneath his feet, the reaction had passed, his mind
had stopped spinning. More than anything, in fact, he felt acutely embarrassed. He was the ex-cop. He was supposed
to know arcane cop things and have nerves of steel, be a leader. Be a man. He had done what he'd had to do, but
somehow felt it hadn't been enough. But since no one had seemed to notice, he supposed, with guilty relief, it was, for
the time being, all spilled milk. And when he heard Trish say something and heard Davies answer, he only shifted his
chair instead of standing when the radio man stood in the gap at the head of the stairs and said, "The car won't work."
"That's silly, Hugh," Ceil told him. "It's practically new."
Davies shrugged. "What can I tell you? The motor won't catch. It just makes noise. Actually, it caught once and
then died before 1 could move. And no, dear," he added patiently when her mouth opened to interrupt, "I did not look
under the hood. I wouldn't know what to look for." He didn't take his coat off when he took a seat at the bar. "There
are other cars, however, and that van."
It didn't take but a few seconds before Julia and Ken had handed him their keys. Willie balked, insisting he could
start his own car himself. Neil didn't interfere, and the two men left, giant and child.
"Why?"
It was Ken, and from his voice, recovered.
Neil had no answers and told him so.
"A terrorist," Ceil guessed. "Kidnapper or something, wouldn't that make sense?" The cigarette in her hand
wobbled until she brought it to her lips. "He cuts us off, terrifies us, and then, when he's good and ready, he'll make
his demands." A wave of a hand. "Money, something like that."
"Then why did he kill Nester?" Julia wanted to know.
 "He knew him," Mandy answered before Neil had a chance. "I heard him say so. He kept yelling that the guy looked
like someone he knew. Then . . ." She took a breath, a shuddering deep one, and lowered her gaze to the table. "Not
very good, is it."
"That he was killed just because he thought he knew who the guy was?" He took another drink and pushed himself
to his feet. He couldn't just sit. "No, not very, because we all saw him too. And Nes was pretty drunk; he'd've been
lucky to recognize his own wife. Besides, it wouldn't make much sense, even as some kind of graphic example. Except
for Mr. Davies, i think Nester probably has more money squirreled away than the rest of us put together."
Havvick laughed scornfully. "Yeah, in your dreams."
Ceil looked at him from a distance without moving an inch. "Do cows make that much money, Mr. Havvick?"
The front door opened as Havvick launched a protest, and the two men entered noisily, stamping their feet, blowing
vigorously on their hands, Davies announcing irritably that none of the other damn vehicles worked either and he was
getting a bit fed up with all these ridicu-lous games, didn't they realize he had to be back in New York City by morning,
what the hell was going on here?
Neil listened as he crossed the floor, mumbling, clapping his hands, cut himself off and said, "Jesus, this is too
much."