"Simon R. Green - Nightside 3 - Nightingale's Lament" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

paid attention as they spotted me approaching. An awful lot of guns zeroed in on me, and the sound of
safeties clicking off was almost deafening. If I'd been anyone else, I might have been worried.
I came to a halt before the main door and smiled at the rent-a-cops arrayed before me, in their wonderfully
striking uniforms of midnight blue with silver piping. I nodded to the officer in charge, a tall and somewhat
overweight man with cold, careful eyes. He held his ground, and his gaze didn't waver, though behind him
we could both hear his men whispering my name. Some of them crossed themselves or made ancient
warding signs. I let my smile widen just a little, be-cause I could see it upset them. Ever since I tracked
down the Unholy Grail and stood off two armies of an-gels to do it, my reputation had been going through
the roof. Mostly nonsense, of course, but I did nothing to discourage the rumours, particularly the nasty
ones. Nothing like a good - or more properly speaking a bad - reputation to keep the flies off.
"I'm supposed to ask for identification," said the of-ficer. "And shoot anyone who isn't on the approved list."
"You know who I am," I said calmly. "And I'm ex-pected."
The officer relaxed a little. "First good news I've had all night. Hello, Taylor. I'm actually glad to see you.
This whole business has my people seriously spooked."
"Has anyone been killed?" I asked, frowning. "I understood this was just a sabotage case."
"No deaths as yet, but a hell of a lot of casualties." The officer scowled. "Whoever's tearing this place apart
doesn't give a damn about anyone who gets in his way. I've lost forty of my people in the last three nights,
and I still haven't got a clue as to who's behind it all. No-one ever sees anything, until it's too late. I've had
this place closed up tighter than a duck's arse, and still the bastard keeps getting in."
"Inside job?" I asked, to show I was paying atten-tion.
"That was my first thought, but there hasn't been anyone in there for a week. The boss sent them all home
when the problems started. He's the only one left in the building. I ran the usual security checks on the staff
anyway, just in case, but nothing showed up. Most of them haven't been around long enough to work up a
serious grudge."
"So what's freaking your men?" I asked quietly. "If they were any more on edge, they'd be shooting each
other."
The officer snorted. "I told you. No-one ever sees anything. I've got saturation coverage around the
building, CCTV inside, and infrared and motion sen-sors working. And whoever it is comes and goes
with-out setting off any of them."
"There are a lot of things in the Nightside that come and go as they please," I pointed out.
"Don't I know it. But this is supposed to be a high-tech, low-magic area. If any heavy-duty magic-user had
appeared here, he'd have set off all kinds of alarms. Whoever or whatever's trying to shut this place down,
it's outside anything I've ever experienced, in science or magic."
I nodded easily, doing my best to exude casual con-fidence. "That's why they sent for me. Because I find
the answers other people can't. See you later."
I stepped past the officer and headed for the main door, only to stop abruptly as one of the rent-a-cops
moved suddenly forward to block my way. He was a big lad, with muscles on his muscles, and his huge
hands made the semi-automatic in his grasp look like a toy. He scowled at me in what he obviously
imagined was an intimidating way.
"Everyone gets frisked for guns," he snapped. "That's the rules. No exceptions. Even for jumped-up
ambulance chasers like you, Taylor."
The officer started to say something, but I stopped him with a quick gesture. The day I couldn't deal with a
constipated rent-a-cop, I'd retire. I gave him my best nasty smile.
"I don't use guns. Never have. They have too many limitations."
I slowly raised my hands, opened them, and the rent-a-cop's eyes widened as a steady stream of bullets fell
from my hands to bounce and rattle on the ground at his feet.
"Your gun is empty," I said. "Now get out of my way before I decide to do something unpleasantly similar
to your insides."
He pulled the trigger anyway, and made a small un-happy sound in the back of his throat when nothing
happened. He swallowed hard and stepped back. I walked past him as though he didn't exist. I could hear