"Sergey Lukjanenko - Labyrinth Of Reflections" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lukjanenko Sergey)

- Al-Kabar. 8-7-7-3-8. - the simple code opens the access to
Deep-Transit's service addresses. I could manage without hitting the driver
but in this case information about the ride would remain in the company's
files.
- You've got it, - the driver is cheerful and helpful again.
The car is off. I look into the window: residence blocks fly by, packed
with skyscrapers inhabited by Deeptown's small fry and huge luxury corporate
offices. Long gray IBM buildings, splendid Microsoft's palaces, tracery
towers of AOL, a bit more modest offices of other leaders of computer
industry.
There are plenty of others of course: furniture, grub, real estate
sales firms, travel agencies, transportation companies, hospitals... even
the least alive and kicking company tends to open its office in Deeptown.
It's this abundance that Deep-Transit flourishes on. Traveling on foot
across the city is a long fun. We fly along the freeways, stop on
intersections, enter tunnels and cross road junctions. I'm waiting. I could
order the driver to go the shortest way but in this case he would need to
contact dispatching office and I would leave the trace...
The city ends abruptly - like the wall of palaces and skyscrapers was
cut off by the huge knife. The city loop road and the forest across it, the
thick and wild forest... that separates from the fuss those who doesn't want
to make a show of themselves.
- Slow down, - I order when we pass the mango growth and approach quite
a type of the mid-Russian thicket, - Stop by that next path.
- It's still a long drive to Al-Kabar...
- I said - stop!
The car stops. I open the door and make a couple of steps from the
limo. The driver waits obediently. I wait too - for the break in the
traffic. Why would we want witnesses? Ah, finally...
I aim to the car and shoot. The revolver is not very loud, the kick is
slight, but the car takes fire in an instant. The driver sits inside looking
forward. Several seconds, and Deep-Transit has one cab less.
Good. Let everything look like drunk punks having fun... I enter the
forest.
- Not ethical... - mumbles Windows-Home from the clips.
- Have you optimized yourself already?
- Yes.
- Okay, now I need help. Look for the cache, access code: "Ivan".
- The glowing tree, - says the program.
I look around. Bingo. Here it is, the huge oak tree, glimmering with
the magic blue light. Glimmering for me only. I approach it, put my hand
into the hollow and grab the big heavy package. Then I change into white
linen shirt and pants, tie a patterned belt around, hang a short sword in a
sheath on it, put several little things in pockets. I made this cache
several days ago, illegally using one of the computers belonging to the
Transcaucasian Railroad's transportation department. The programmers are
weak there, they will not notice this little invasion for a long time.
- Where's the stream? - I ask.
- To the right.
I bend over running water and look at my reflection, hit it with my