"Andre Norton - Crosstime 2 - Crossroads of Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

worstЧ" his eyes glinted like gem stones through the smoke and Blake felt
an odd chill, almost a suspicion of that same uneasiness which had drawn
him into this adventure. Kittson was implying things, and the force of his
implications was heightened by the very vagueness of his words.
"I see that it begins to dawn on you that this is serious. When must you
report at Havers for classes?"
"The new term begins next Monday."
"A week. I'm going to ask you to play along with us for that period. If
we have any luck this case will be settled by then, or at least your part of it
will. OtherwiseЧ"
"Otherwise I might be taken care of for my own good and yours?" Blake
demanded. But he recognized the voice of authority. This man was used to
giving orders which were obeyed without question. If he said "Remove
Blake Walker and put him on ice," Blake Walker would be removed with
the same speed and efficiency as the gunman had earlier been extracted
from this room. No one ever gained by ramming a stone wall head on.

Better follow ordersЧat least until he could learn more about the setup.
"All right. What do I do?"
"You vanish. Here and now. How much luggage do you have?"
Kittson was on his feet, across the room to open the closet before Blake
really understood that reply to his question.
"One bag." Something, perhaps the power of the other's personality
swept Blake into action he would not have considered an hour before. He
snapped the suitcase shut and took out his wallet to count out some bills
on the top of the chest.
"I take it that we do not check out formally." It was more a statement
than a question and he was not surprised as Kittson swiftly agreed.
The gray light outside the window had brightened very little. It was five
minutes after seven, but the dusk within the room was that of evening as
the agent snapped off the light. Blake shrugged into his top coat, picked
up his hat and bag, ready to follow as the other beckoned him out into the
hall.
They did not take the turn leading to the elevator, but instead went to a
firedoor. Stairs, five floors of them, silent and deserted as the hall had
beenЧthen Kittson paused for a moment before another door, giving the
impression of listening. Down another flight of stairs, narrower, not so
well lighted, threading through a place of storage compartments to more
steps going up. They emerged on the open street with the chill drizzle of
sleet in their faces. Blake was sure that his guide not only knew exactly
where he was going, but that they had been unobserved throughout that
flight. His belief in the efficiency of the agent's organization was settled for
all time as a taxi came in at the curb almost as they crossed the strip of
pavement. Kittson opened the door and Blake obeyed the implied order.
But to his surprise the agent did not join him. Instead the door slammed
shut and the cab pulled away.
For the moment Blake was content to follow orders and see where all
this stage managing would leave him. But, as he had more time to think
and was out of the range of Kittson's electric personality, he was surprised
at his own compliance with every suggestion the agent had made. If this