"Mercedes Lackey - Tregarde 2 - Burning Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

he should have heard something more than thisтАФ
There wasn't anybody at his gate yet (DFW was so hectic that agents frequently didn't materialize
until ten minutes before boarding), but there was an agent manning one of the others nearby. Mark jumped
to his feet and sprinted over before she could move away. He pulled out his shield and ID and shoved
them under her startled eyes.
"Can you tell me if a Diana Tregarde is on flight 185 from Hartford?" he asked before she could
muster a question. Unless you were a cop, dispensing that kind of information to questioners was strictly
against airline regs. There'd been a couple of cases of irate wives and husbands showing up at airports
with mayhem in mind when they'd found out about certain trips . . . .
But the agent frowned worriedly, almost anxiously-more so than the question warrantedтАФas she
punched the query into her terminal.
"Yes sir, she isтАФ" the woman replied after a moment. "At least she got a boarding pass about five
minutes before departure." She bit her lip, and wouldn't quite look at him. "IsтАФis there something
wrong?"
"No, no, not at all," Mark sighed, then smiled. "She's a special consultant, and I wanted to be sure
she made the flight, that's all. We kind of got our wires crossed, and then you guys changed all your flight
numbers on me, so I wasn't sure if I was making the right one or not."
The woman's answering smile was bright with relief, and she bent her dark, curly head over her
keyboard as he turned away and walked back to his chair.
Oh shit, he thought, suddenly having his memory kick in. I shouldn't have startled her like that.
Because everybody in DFW was bound to be a little jumpy lately; only last month there'd been a
hostage situation. Some crazed Iranian trying a ground hijacking. It had tied things up for half the day, and
the whole incident was fresh and raw in the minds of anybody who worked here. Probably they expected
bomb scares whenever they saw a shield at this point.
He slouched back into the ill-fitting seat, trying, without much success, to find a comfortable
position.
Man, this is the last thing I ever expected to be doingтАФbringing Di in as occult consultant, of all
damned things. To think that she told me I'd be doing just this years agoтАФand I didn't believe her.
He could still hear her final words when they'd last seen each other, as if it had been days ago
instead of years.
"You'll see me again," she'd said, giving him that Mona Lisa smile. "You'll need my expertise
some time in the future. You'll call me. Trust me, I'm sure enough to put money on it."
Which parting had been a damn sight more peaceful than their meeting . . . .
***
Mark was looped; Tim, Phil, and Quasi were a good bit farther along than that.
QuasiтАФshort for QuasimodoтАФwas carrying the booze-box, for the reason that he was the only
one of them capable of toting that much, drunk or sober. Quasi was built like a gorilla, and just about as
hairy.
He was also on a full academic scholarship to the anthro department. Phil claimed it was because
he was the only living specimen of Neanderthal and they wanted to study him; Mark knew betterтАФhe'd
seen Quasi's midterm marks. Impressive.
It was three flights up to Quasi's apartment, and this old wreck of a building didn't have an
elevator. Normally, this was no big deal, but half blitzed, it was an adventure. The staircase was lit only
infrequently, and poorly; the stairs were worn and slippery. Mark was clinging to the banister with both
hands, but frankly wondered if it would stay attached to the wall if it had to take his full weight.
"This," Tim announced to no one in particular, "is 1970. The Age of Enlightenment. The Age of
Illumination. This is the dawnтАФ"
"Of the Age of Aquarius, Age of Aquar-i-uuuuusтАФ" Phil warbled. He was, as usual, off-key.
"Shut up, dork," Tim said, glaring at him from under an untamed thatch of thick black hair.
"Sir, yessir!" Phil salutedтАФwhich struck Mark as hilarious, since Phil, flatfooted, four-eyed, and a