"Nichol, John - Stinger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nichol John)

Dexy was a couple of inches shorter than I, but powerfully built, his
arms rippling with muscle.

"Good to meet you, Scan. Don't let Jeff's proprietorial air fool you,
he's only been here a few days himself."

The accent was English south London and his smile was warm, but his
eyes were perpetually alert.

"We'll be working together a fair bit, I head up one of the mine
clearance teams."

I turned towards the other member of the welcoming committee, a woman
clad in an all-enveloping mauve burka. I could see only the glitter of
her dark eyes through an embroidered mesh visor.

"And I'm Arnica," a disembodied voice said. The accent was local, but
there was a trace of something else in there too.

"Welcome to Afghanistan."

"Thank you," I said.

"I'm looking forward to working here. Is that an American accent I can
hear?"

"I spent some years there, yes."

"Why did you come back?"

The visor of the burka swung back towards me.

"America was too materialist."

Dexy laughed.

"That's not a problem you're ever likely to find here." He led the way
to a white pick-up with a local driver sitting at the wheel.

"Afghan Mine Clearance Organisation' was painted in red letters on the
side. Beneath the name was the AMCO logo and a picture of a
Kalashnikov with a red line through it.

"We allow no one inside bearing arms," Arnica said There was the
faintest hint of a smile in her voice.

"I didn't realise you and Jeff already knew each other," Dexy said as
we drove away from the terminal.

"I was paired with him when I transferred from fast-jets. He nursed me