"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of McGill Feighan 03 - Lava" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

human friends and acquaintances, but he almost always told Oscar where he
would be. "Oscar, query: when does Greystein's next shift start; answer it
now."
"June 4, 2105; 1000 hours."
He checked his watch. Nine-thirty already. Half an hour was time
enough, butтАж as he stepped into the kitchen and said, "Oscar, order: plate
three blackberry doughnuts; pour one cup coffee, cream three sugars; do it
now," he fretted.
You're gonna feel real dumb when he shows up safe and sound, he told
himself, but he did have cause for alarm. For most of his life, an interstellar
crime syndicate known simply as The Organization had been trying to
capture him, for reasons that were still not clear. Over the years of sporadic
skirmishing, The Organization's man-hunter, Milford Hommroummy, had
killed a number of people close to FeighanтАФincluding his parents. And
every time Greystein went off on his own, Feighan feared that he had been
added to that list.
 The chef panel opened to reveal his breakfast. He carried the plate and
saucer over to the table, set them down gently, and sat. His stomach
growled. Sam wriggled into the seat across from him.
The doorbell rang.
Groaning, Feighan put down the doughnut. "I hope that's not Mrs.
Estwund again."
Sam looked offended. "McGill, I haven't bit her dog since the last time!
And you know that wasn't my fault."
"Yeah, I know, kid, but she's got you on her rot list now, and anything
happens to her beloved AbsalomтАФ"
"Gets blamed on me." Sam's spine fins drooped morosely.
Feighan pushed himself back from the table. "Oscar, query: who rang the
doorbell; answer it now."
A hum came from behind the grille in the ceiling. "Print ID impossible."
Feighan froze. Building Security was supposed to prevent anyone from
reaching the penthouse without authorization. He had too many enemies.
"Oscar, order: run visual ID; cross-reference it with police filesтАФ"
Sam slipped down from his chair. "I'll check it, McGill." Four legs blurring
and tail held high, he whisked out the kitchen door.
"Be careful!"
The Rhanghan threw a disgusted look over his shoulder. "McGill!"
"Yeah." He got to his feet. "Sorry, Sam. I keep forgetting."
At the front door, Sam closed his eyes. He touched the mahogany with
his right hand. Cocking his head, he inhaled till his chest puffed upтАФthen
nodded with apparent satisfaction. He turned the knob. And jumped back,
hissing.
"What is it?" said Feighan.
Silencing his guardian with a raised hand, Sam swallowed visibly. "Good
morning. May I help you?"
The raspy voice sounded like a giant cricket: "I seek McGill the Flinger."
Sam turned his head and motioned. "It's safe."
 Damn. As his stomach rumbled its discontent, he eyed his watch. He had
twenty minutes to get to work, and breakfast sat untouched. Yet he had to
be polite. "Tell him to come in."