"Will Hubbell - Cretaceous Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hubbell Will)

few images, but doubted they'd bring much. He watched the chauffeur unlock a door to the building and
escort his passengers inside before returning and removing luggage from the trunk. What's that for?
wondered Sal. A secret wedding? A honeymoon? He fantasized what images of that would be worth.

Sal forced himself to wait a few minutes before he left his car. He had turned off his headlights for the
past few miles, but he still wanted to be sure he hadn't been ob-served. Just when he was reasonably
sure he was not ex-pected, all the streetlights went out. This is my lucky night, he thought. No one will
see me now. He slipped out of his car into the darkness.

Sal did not even try the door to the buildingтАФhe had seen the chauffeur lock it. The high fence in the rear
looked more promising. He knew most people placed a naive faith in fences, assuming they brought
privacy. Yet climbing was an essential skill in Sal's business, and he approached the obstacle as a
seasoned professional. A quick walk around the perimeter revealed a spot with promising handholds and
footholds. He slung his datacam around his neck and began to climb.

The sight beyond the top of the fence was totally un-expected. The screened-in area was almost entirely
filled by a strange craft. Although Sal had never seen anything like it, the words "flying saucer"
immediately came to mind. Using one hand to grip the top of the fence, Sal used the other to aim his
datacam. He adjusted the zoom lens to wide-angle and framed an image of the saucer. Now he wished
the streetlights were on so he'd have more light for the shot. As he recorded the image, ques-tions
popped into his mind. What the hell is this thing? What does it have to do with Greighton? Why did
he bring his daughter and his fiancee here? Sal was con-vinced the answers to those questions could
only be found on the other side of the fence. He lowered the da-tacam to let it dangle from its neck strap
and, grabbing the top of the fence with both hands, prepared to pull himself over.

There was a muffled popping sound, instantly followed by an intense burning sensation in his right
shoulder. Sal lost his grip and fell backwards off the fence, slamming into the ground. He lay on his back
in a haze of pain. Staring at the fence, he dully realized that the dark stain near the top was his own
blood. The next thing he saw was a burly man standing over him. He had a dispas-sionate look. Sal
thought that he might be the chauffeur, although he wasn't sure. It was dark, and Sal's eyes were having
trouble focusing. The man leaned over. There was something in his hand. Sal tried to make out what it
was. When it was inches from his head, Sal saw it was a gun. Tonight was not lucky after all.

NICK ZHUKOVSKY REENTERED the meeting room and stood out of the way, waiting to catch
Peter Green's eye. His boss was talking up the clients. "It'll be a vacation for me, too," Green said. "After
years of research, I need a break." He looked over and spotted Nick. Nick glanced around to ensure no
one was watching; then he moved his finger across his throat in a slicing motion. Green subtly nodded,
acknowledging the message.

"I've put together the most experienced staff possible," continued Green, without the slightest hint of what
had transpired. "James Neville's family ran safari camps in the Serengeti for three generations. His
hospitality and exacting standards are renowned throughout Africa. Now he is bringing his expertise to
our new frontier. We couldn't be in better hands."

James smiled modestly at the compliment. "Mr. Green has kindly provided me with a new challenge. I
will do my utmost to meet it.

"Our chef, Pandit Jahan, was handpicked by James himself," said Green. "He assures me there is none
bet-ter." Pandit bowed his head toward the guests. "Joe Burns is our pilot. He'll operate both the time
machine and our sight-seeing aircraft."