"Eric Nylund - Paladin Blake and The Secret City" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nylund Eric)

"That's good to know," Paladin said. "It looks like we do have something in common."

He stared at his brother-years of drinking and hard living had made Matthew's eyes sunken
and his skin pallid. In the shadows, Matthew's head looked more like a skull than human
flesh. Paladin didn't know the man anymore-no, that wasn't right. He knew him, he just
wished he didn't.

"Goodbye, Matthew."

Paladin turned his back on his brother and marched back to the runway. He climbed into his
Devastator and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He had promised his father he'd get
every last pirate in the air. But what would Dad say about this? Which of his sons would he
disapprove of more? Matthew for his murdering and thieving or Paladin for wanting to bring
his own brother down?

That didn't matter. His father was long dead, and Paladin was his own man, with his own
reasons for fighting.

Paladin flipped the ignition switch, cranked the Devastator's engine, and taxied onto the
runway. He pushed the throttle full open and shot into the sky. The moon rose past the edge
of the mountains, casting silver and shadows into the valley. He climbed to three hundred
feet then banked and headed back toward Durango Field.

Sometimes, he thought, you need a light touch to solve your problems. This wasn't one of
those times.
Paladin lined up with the runway and dove. He opened fire, peppered the Corsairs on the
ground with .30-caliber bullets, then launched rockets one and four.

He pulled back on the stick. He risked a quick glance, and saw two planes explode as men
and woman ran onto the airstrip. Paladin circled back for another pass, but the remaining
Corsairs were already taking off.

Chapter Three: In the Shadow of the Black Knight

Paladin Blake pushed the stick forward and sent his Devastator into a dive, right toward the
runway-and straight at the first two Corsairs gathering speed on the field. Just as their
wheels cleared the ground, he opened fire.

His Devastator's .40-calibers stitched a hail of gunfire across their tails and canopies. The
Corsairs dropped to the earth, bounced, and crashed into the trees at the end of the landing
strip.

Had one of those been Matthew's plane? A sickening heaviness settled in his gut. Paladin
pulled back on the stick and banked for another pass.

His radio crackled. "Shooting men on the ground, huh?" It was Matthew's voice. "So the
great Paladin Blake isn't the hero the papers say he is. I knew you'd show your true colors."

Paladin didn't bother replying; it had been four-against-one with him on the short end of