"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 01 - The Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

salt-tinged air, and he stifled a sneeze.
Finally, as he turned in his tracks for the fourth time, his straining ears picked up the quiet murmur of a
powerful car approaching. He returned to his machine. A moment later, a sleek, dark-colored Mercedes
emerged from a side-alley and came to a smooth halt on the opposite side of the street.
As the headlamps were extinguished, the dark-tinted windows on the right side of the car glided down in
automated unison. Pale face-blurs of a driver and a rear passenger showed in the darkness.
Relieved, the motorcyclist set his helmet on the saddle of his bike and sauntered over to the side of the car.
Bending from the waist, he favored the passenger in the backseat with an ironic salute and drawled,
"Morning, Mr. Raeburn."
The backseat's occupant acknowledged the greeting with a cool nod. "Good morning, Sergeant. I believe you
have something for me?"
The sergeant pulled a cocky smile, exposing strong white teeth in a face weathered by years under Texas
suns.
"Christmas gets earlier every year," he replied. "Just call me Santa Claus."
With an exaggerated flourish he unslung the duffel bag he still carried over his shoulder. The Mercedes'
passenger elevated an eyebrow.
"Did you encounter any difficulties?"
The American gave a derisive snort. "Are you kiddin' me? I'd have had more trouble taking candy from a baby.
What folks your side of the Atlantic don't know about security must cost your insurance people a mint."
As he began methodically unlacing the neck of the duffel bag, the man in the backseat of the Mercedes
watched his every move.
"I trust," said the man, "that you were not tempted to exploit the situation beyond the terms of our contract?"
His tone was conversational, but there was more than a hint of steel beneath the silken inquiry. It elicited a
sharp glance from the sergeant, and an almost petulant disclaimer.
"Hey, I got a reputation to maintain!"
The man in the car smiled in chilly satisfaction. "You reassure me. Reliable help is not always easy to find
nowadays."
The American did not bother to acknowledge the comment. As he jerked open the mouth of the duffel bag
and drew forth the sword by its hilt, a map light came on inside the car. The light glinted off the gold and
cut-steel as he passed it through the open window, point first.
"It's a pretty enough toy, I'll grant you," he remarked, "but I guess you know you could've had half a dozen
fancy swords made for half what you're paying me to steal this one."
His employer took the Hepburn Sword in both gloved hands, briefly drawing the blade partway from the
scabbard, then sheathed it with a sigh and laid it carefully across his knees.
"An object's worth is not always to be measured in terms of money," the man murmured.
The sergeant shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mr. Raeburn. You're a collector, and you know what you want.
Me, I'm a - an acquisitions agent." He savored the sound of the title on his tongue. "And us agents do what
we do for the money."
"Of course," said his employer coolly. "You've fulfilled your part of the agreement. I am now prepared to fulfill
mine."
He nodded to his driver in the rearview mirror. The man in the front of the Mercedes wordlessly reached into
the breast of his coat and drew out a fat leather wallet, handing it through the open window without comment.
The recipient opened it casually and riffled through the thick sheaf of American currency inside, one eyebrow
raising in pleased surprise.
"As you see, I have included a small bonus," the man in the backseat said.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Raeburn," the American said with a broad grin. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
"I think I may safely say the same."
The man in the backseat drew the glove from his right hand. A signet ring set with a blood-red carnelian seal
glittered richly on the third finger as he extended his hand through the open window.
The American accepted the proffered handshake. His employer's clasp was surprisingly hard. The man in the