"Ashley McConnel - Highlander Scimitar" - читать интересную книгу автора (McConnell Ashley)

Thirst satisfied, MacLeod pulled on a white T-shirt that had been draped
neatly over the back of his chair, and opened a drawer in the desk. He
produced a bottle of singlemalt whisky and two glasses. Pouring a
fingerful into each glass, he handed one to Joe and raised the other.
"To peace and quiet."

Joe acknowledged the toast and took a sip of the liquid, holding it in
his mouth a moment before swallowing. MacLeod raised his eyebrows,
waiting.

. Dawson took his time, considering. Finally he said, "This is, ah,
let's see. Dark Roses? That little place up near Inverness."

MacLeod grinned. "Right. I thought I'd had you there."

The Watcher grinned back. "It's all right." He took another sip.

"Not bad," MacLeod agreed, looking critically at the contents of the
glass. "I've had worse." Setting the glass aside, he reached for a
long-sleeved shirt and shrugged it on, dropping the towel on the desk as
he did so, plopping himself into the desk chair and swiveling around to
face his visitor. "So. What's the real reason?"

Joe lowered himself stiffly into the visitor's chair, setting the
package on the desk. "Just say hello, that's all. Oh, and there's
this." He indicated the box.

The other man examined it curiously. "What's this?"
"Somebody left it for you at the bar. We didn't see who left it; the
new day guy isn't too bright."

MacLeod turned over the card with his name on it, looking in vain for a
message on the back. It was blank.

He shrugged, tossing the card back on the desk, and poured himself just
enough more whisky to cover the bottom of the glass.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

MacLeod finished his drink. "Nah. It'll keep." He burst out laughing
at the expression of disappointment that crossed the other man's face.

"All right, alright. Is it your birthday or something?" Pulling the
package back, he yanked the twine apart with casual strength and ripped
the paper away.

Torn away, the paper revealed a large plain case, rectangular, with
rounded corners, of some old, highly polished dark wood that shone
almost with a life of its own; the brass hinges were tinged faintly
green with age. There was no lock. The lid was shallow, a quarter the