"Viktor Koman - Captain Anger 1 - The Microbotic Menace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koman Victor)

grey linoleum squares.
He abruptly sat straight up on the stool, trembling. Suddenly, from
somewhere deep inside him, his voice arose resonant and terrifying.
тАЬI am the Angel of Death!тАЭ
The voice silenced instantly as the body of the old man collapsed in on
itself. With a stomach-churning hiss of gasses, his chest collapsed and his
head softened and grew shapeless, like a wax mask melting. The silver
liquid gushed to the floor. His suit fell limp, draping wetly over the stool.
Then, seconds later, it too disintegrated as if eaten by acid.
The customers ran from the diner in terror.
SomeтАФovercome by nauseaтАФfell to the sidewalk, sick at the curb. The
black, muscular cook ran out of the kitchen, mystified at the empty diner
until the waitress pointed in mute terror at the gruesome scene.
The silvery liquid drenched the far end of the diner. Worse, the stool on
which the man once sat leaned perilously to one side, the chromed steel
shaft softening like taffy in the sun. With a squish, the stool fell over into
the glimmering slush.
тАЬWhat the hell happened?тАЭ the husky cook demanded.
The waitress, breathless, whispered, тАЬThe Angel of Death.тАЭ
 тАв
The barricade went up around the diner as soon as the police arrived.
The supervising detective put a rookie patrolman in charge of cordoning
off the area with the yellow tape that declared
Police LineтАФDo Not Cross.
Los Gatos was a sleepy suburb of San Jose, California, some of its
inhabitants wealthy executives in the Silicon Valley computer industry.
Most lived comfortably; a few hung on in desperate straits. Detective R. J.
Fleming figured that the victim came from the last group. He ran a hand
through his blonde hair and peered in through the door.
тАЬLooks like silver paint, donтАЩt it?тАЭ the slender, carrot-topped rookie
asked.
тАЬYou got that thing tied off?тАЭ Fleming demanded, nodding toward the
roll of tape in the kidтАЩs hand.
тАЬYessir.тАЭ
тАЬWrap it once more around your mouth.тАЭ FlemingтАЩs gaze turned to the
service counter. The section coated in silver appeared withered and
sunken. тАЬBaggerly!тАЭ he shouted over his shoulder.
тАЬSir!тАЭ
тАЬGet the HazMat team rolling. Tell тАШem weтАЩve got one dead and another
one contaminated.тАЭ
тАЬAny idea what it is?тАЭ
Fleming shook his head. Turning away from the diner entrance, he
observed the two paramedics hovering around the construction worker.
He was a big man, black oily hair and brooding black eyes. He sat on
the curb with his left arm in a brace holding it up and out so that the
paramedics could examine it easily.
тАЬWhat do you make of it?тАЭ Fleming asked the male medic.
The woman answered. тАЬWe canтАЩt figure out if itтАЩs a liquid or a very finely
divided powder. Whatever it is, it seems to have penetrated his skin. We
canтАЩt wipe it off.тАЭ