"MacLean, Alistair - Airforce One is down (John Denis)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

AIR FORCE ONE IS DOWN
Alistair MacLean, who died on 2 February 1987, was the bestselling author of
thirty books, including world famous novels such as The Guns of Navarone, Where
Eagles Dare and Santorini. Of the story outlines he was commissioned to write by
an American film company in 1977, two were, with Alistair MacLean's approval,
turned into novels written by John Denis: Hostage Tower and Air Force One is
Down. A successful film was made of Hostage Tower.
Since Alistair MacLean's death, two further story outlines have been turned into
novels: Death Train (of which a film is in production) and Night Watch, both by
Alastair MacNeill. Further novels from Alistair MacLean outlines are planned. It
is hoped that the publication of these and future novels based on MacLean
outlines will please the many readers for whom Alistair MacLean's death has left
a gap.
ALISTAIR MACLEAN'S
Air Force One Is Down
JOHN DENIS
FONTANA/Collins
First published by Fontana Paperbacks 1981 Eighth impression October
Copyright й Alistair MacLean and John Denis
Printed and bound in Great Britain by William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd, Glasgow
CONDITIONS OF SALE
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the
publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
CHAPTER ONE
Mister Smith's watch had long since been taken from him, so he logged the
passing seconds in his head. Not all of them, but enough to keep him in touch
with reality.
No natural light penetrated the cell, for he was a Category "A" convict, rating
a top-security tomb. No everyday sounds of the world outside reached his ears
through the solid old walls of Fresnes Prison.
In three years, even during his twice-daily canters round the exercise yard, not
a single aeroplane engine had Smith heard, nor the dying snarl of a lorry, nor
the aimless twittering of a sparrow.
His hearing had become abnormally and selectively acute, sifting the melange of
man-made, purposeful noises for the odd accidental one to disturb the relentless
pattern of normality. But these were few, scattered like grace notes through an
otherwise pedestrian score. Yet still, and obsessively, Smith listened - for the
catch in the footfalls of his guards that meant a broken step, for the clang of
a dropped key and the curse that always followed it, for the scraping of a match
as a warder unknowingly bestowed on Smith the priceless gift of lighting a
cigarette outside his cell.
These sounds, after a while, slotted subliminally into his mind, and were used
by Smith to fuel his determination to avoid mental stagnation in his solitary
confinement. He owned one of the truly original criminal minds of the century,
and had no intention of letting it rust into disuse.
He exercised his body ruthlessly to keep his muscles finely toned, and drilled
his brain no less fanatically with complex chess and bridge problems committed