"Lumley, Brian - E-Branch 3 - Avengers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

hovering there, fanning the air over the stricken ship. But then, as the aircraft suddenly gained altitude, performing a slow spiral up and outward, Trask's voice was again patched through to the rescue chopper. And if anything it was harsher than ever:

'Where's that rescue tackle? I want you to get that man off there, and I do mean right now!'

'Fine,' Jake sent back, 'but the crew needs Argyle's say-so on that.'

Ten seconds ticked by, and then Commander Argyle's voice -stuttering and quite obviously shocked - said, 'G-g-get him off there. Get that man off that b-bloody ship, and be bloody quick about it! But listen in: no matter how long it takes, no one is to go down there! He has to make it on his own.'

And once again Trask, saying, 'Jake, the same rules are in force. If he isn't what he would seem to be, let Lardis handle it his way. Is that understood?'

'Only too well,' said Jake. 'Over and out . . .'


---

3

THE TROUBLE WITH HARRY


Down below, on the shielding collar of the exhaust array, the rescue bucket had swung to and fro in front of the survivor's face half a dozen times without him seeming to notice it. But as it finally collided with him, almost sending him sprawling, he appeared to wake up. Then, looking up at the chopper sixty feet overhead, and fending off the bucket and harness as once again it made a swing at him, he reached up an imploring hand, blinked his eyes, and seemed to be trying to say something.

The winchman directed the pilot on his headset: 'Take her down just a few more feet. Good! Now hold it steady - hold it right there!' And as the gear clattered down and skittered on the collar, jerking this way and that immediately in front of the survivor, a second petty officer with a loud hailer called down:

'Don't try to grab the bucket or it may haul you off your feet. Just sit yourself in it - your whole body weight - and adjust the harness straps. Then try to sit back and hang on to the chains. That'll help you feel secure. And don't worry, we won't let you fall.'

The 'bucket' was more like one of those aerial chairs that children ride at fairgrounds. Suspended from four leather-sheathed chains, it had a back and sides but no legs. A webbing harness was fitted to the interior, with a safety belt dangling loose. And like an aerial chair, even a child could see how to use it . . . or should have been able to. But the man below was in shock.

As the bucket danced in front of him - now bouncing on the collar, now twitching to knee height, finally swinging out and away from him -


35


he took a dazed, stumbling step toward it and tried to grab at it. After that . . . it was only sheer good fortune that saved him; one more staggering step would have taken him to the rim of the collar some twenty feet above the bridge deck, and the rescue tackle might easily have dragged him over the edge. But as it happened the chair spun around him, struck him behind the knees, and scooped him up.

And slumped in the bucket, with his arms and legs dangling loose and likewise the straps of the harness, which he hadn't fastened - he was winched toward safety, or to what would have been safety in any normal or routine rescue situation. But even as the gears wound him in and he flopped there, with his vacant eyes staring up at his rescuers from a pale, dirty, slack-jawed face, so Trask's harsh, apparently emotionless voice was in the crew's ears, telling them:

'From now on you do exactly as Jake Cutter and the Old Lidesci tell you to do. They are acting on my orders, on authority conveyed to me by your Gunnery Commander Argyle. The man you're bringing up from that ship may or may not be infected with this . . . this terrible disease. But the old man called Lardis is the world's foremost expert in such things and he will know. In any event his decision - and whatever action he takes - has my full backing. Anyone attempting to interfere will not only be liable to severe disciplinary action, he may well be placing the lives of your entire crew in jeopardy!'

The rescue crew's members glanced at each other but made no comment, and the bucket came up within reach of the hatch. Then Lardis yelled across to the man in the bucket: 'You, I want you to give me your hand. Reach out and give it now!' He leaned out of the hatch on his safety strap and offered a gnarled, purple-veined left hand to the survivor. The fingers of that hand were heavy with rings of purest silver.

The man in the bucket looked at Lardis, then at his hand. A flicker of vague recognition passed over his face, and his lips formed the word, 'Szgany!' But still his arms continued to hang loose in the down draught, and in another moment his eyes had gone vacant again.

Lardis glanced at the three petty officers. 'Swing him in a little, but carefully.' And to Jake: 'In the event he makes any sudden move - tries to jump aboard -you know what to do.'

Nodding his understanding, Jake took out a specially modified 9mm Browning automatic from an inside pocket of his flying jacket and cocked it - at which the fair-haired, freckled petty officer gasped and said, 'What the fuck .

'Just do as Lardis said,' Jake told him, aiming his weapon directly between the eyes of the man in the bucket. And without further protest (for the time being at least), and beginning to understand just how serious