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

few"-he spat the name out-"Blake Aviation planes buzzing around. Or maybe a combat zep."

"I came with everything I needed," Paladin replied, his right hand resting lightly on the butt
of his holstered gun.

"Look, I didn't come here to exchange shots." Matthew frowned, and pulled his gloves off.
We've got important things to talk about." He nodded to the leaning A-frame. "Come on."

Matthew marched toward the "clubhouse." Paladin followed, and Matthew's crew trailed
behind them.

Paladin wasn't so sure if turning his back on this pack of wolves was a good idea. Then
again, Matthew was many things-but he was never subtle. If this meeting had been a trap, it
would have been sprung the instant Matthew had seen he had Paladin outnumbered.

Paladin pushed through the double doors of the A-frame. The smell stopped him cold-
burning charcoal and the scent of bourbon so thick it made him choke. There was a player
piano, a Ben Franklin stove with a fire crackling inside, and a stained bar top with a brass
railing. The thing that caught Paladin's eye, however, was the back wall-shelves jammed
with bottles: tall slivers of icy-looking Vodka, cobalt blue decanters, magnums of
champagne, moonshine jugs, and rows of square bottles filled with an amber liquor that he
was all too familiar with. For a dive, it was well stocked.

Matthew dropped a ten-pesado silver piece onto the counter-which was snatched up by the
barkeep. "Drinks are on me tonight, gang. I'll be out back with my brother." He grabbed a
bottle and two glasses, and held open the back door.

Paladin left, glad to be out in the fresh air. There was a small table set up on the back porch.
The view of the mountain silhouetted against the purpling sky was magnificent.

"A drink." Matthew popped the cork. "For old time's sake."

Paladin sat and said nothing. He watched his brother pour from the bottle labeled with the
same knight-and-shield insignia that Paladin used for Blake Aviation Security...only this
knight was black, not white.

"I came to hear about Flora, Matthew, not to get drunk with you."

Matthew slammed the bottle on the table. "Can't you ease up for a second? I stick my neck
out a mile to meet you, and you don't even have the decency to say 'hello,' or 'how've you
been for the last six years?' Nice to see you, too."

"How have you been, Matthew?" Paladin's right hand eased from his lap to the holster on his
right hip. He quietly unfastened the snap.

"I'm lousy, thanks for asking." Matthew filled the highball glasses to their brims-downed
one, then the other. "You know what happens if word of us talking gets out? No decent
bootlegger will get within spiting distance of me."

"Sorry to be a such an...embarrassment to you," Paladin said and set his hands on the table.