"Kyle, Duncan - Terror's Cradle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kyle Duncan)

I nodded. A grey goose stamped on my grave somewhere and a little shudder ran across my shoulders. I said, 'When I've seen Susannah, there's nothing to keep me.'

'Not if you're wise.'

I was getting brown and broody myself. I was almost certain by now that Spinetti had had no part in the call and could think of nobody else, newsmen apart, who might have reason to want me out. Unless ...

I said, 'Susannah. Who's she been involved with?'

'Just some guys. Like always.'

"People who wouldn't want her to talk to reporters?'

He thought about it. 'Maybe. I doubt that. But maybe. She chooses rough company some days.'

We came over a ridge, driving downhill towards a great sheet of smooth water. In the sunshine it looked cool and shiny-blue and beautiful, like a scene from a travel brochure, but better. We were dropping down towards the shore, where a lot of boats rode quietly at a marina. Spinetti said, 'Lake Mead.'

I looked at it with interest. Big things impress me, even if I try to resist, and this was, almost unbelievably, a man-made lake; water stretching away into the distance and desert and canyon walls all around.

I said, 'Where do we meet her?'

'Not us, Sellers. You.'

I had hoped I'd misunderstood him earlier. Clearly I hadn't. Suddenly the cool flat water looked a lot less inviting. 'All right Where do / meet her?'

'Show you the map.' He pulled the car into an almost empty car park, climbed out and set off towards one of the manna's board walks where a man was crouched at the bow of some boat. As we approached, the man rose.

Spinetti said, 'You got a reservation for a boat hire.'

'Name, sir?'

'Sellers.'

The man pointed. 'This boat here, sir. All set.'

'Gas?'

'She's full.'

'Got a map?'

'Right aboard, sir. You got a credit card or somethin'?'

Spinetti turned to me. 'You have?'

I fished my trusty Diner's Card out of my wallet and followed the man into the office, signed the slip and returned to the boat with the information that it had a range of about a hundred and twenty miles.

Spinetti was already aboard. As I climbed after him, he spread die chart. 'Due norm-east,' he said. 'See here. The entrance to Boulder Canyon.'

'How far?'