"Steve Perry - Matador 01 - The Man Who Never Missed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

Time to leave. Khadaji sprinted from the office and into the street. Other
troops would be coming and he wanted to be back at the Jade Flower by the
time somebody started a net working in the city.
He jumped the downed figure of a quad member near the door and started
down the street. Another easy station, he thought, as he ran. He shook his
head a little. He had to watch that, the feeling of invincibility, the sense of
right-ness which made him feel as if he could not fail. That was dangerous,
that kind of thinking. Just because he knew who he was and what he was
doing, there was no guarantee he'd succeed. Over-confidence had ruined
more than one man, especially men with grand plans who let the big vision
cloud the details of the smaller workings. The tendency was to feel as if there
was some kind of benevolent spirit backing him, the hand of Fate guiding
and protecting him because he was its instrument, and that was dangerous.
He was fourteen years past his Realization and he still had to fight the sense
of superiority it had given him.
 He heard voices approaching from a side street and slid to a halt in the
shadow of a trash-recycle hopper. A pair of quads ran by, heading back
toward the T-plex. Close.
Yes. It could happen at any time. A stray bullet triggered by a falling
trooper could do it, a slip while running from pursuers, any one of a
hundred things. For nearly six months he'd been careful and lucky.
He ran back toward the Jade Flower. He recognized that his worry meant
the time for the end was getting nearer. It gave him a fluttery stomach to
think about it, a tingle in the muscles of his buttocks even as he ran.
"Have a nice nap, Chief?"
"I feel much better, Butch. How's business?"
"Goin' pretty good, now. I heard Anjue on the com a few minutes ago, he
said when Sister Clamp came in, fifteen troopers joined the line."
Khadaji nodded and strolled into the octagon. The place was at capacity,
save for the spaces saved for upranks. He smiled a little to himself. At least
one Sub-Befal wouldn't be dropping by tonight.
There was a man drinking splash alone at one of the spare tables. Khadaji
walked to the table and nodded down at the man. He was a quad leader, a
Sub-Lojt, and he looked familiar, though Khadaji couldn't place him.
"Evening," Khadaji said.
The man looked up and nodded, but didn't speak.
"Drinking alone can be depressing. Mind if I join you?"
The Sub-Lojt shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I was just turning over a few bad
memories."
A server brought Khadaji a flare full of Moet & Chandon, from his private
stock of vintage champagne. He sipped at the pale amber liquid slowly.
"Another splash for the Sub-Lojt," Khadaji said.
"Thanks," the man said. He finished his current mug and leaned back.
"You know, I was going to flake out when my impress was up, but I went for
another tour. Probably the biggest mistake I ever made."
Khadaji nodded slightly, but said nothing.
"I just left the knot wardтАФone of my quad is in his second month."
"Hit by the Scum," Khadaji said. That's where he'd seen the man's face,
obviously. Only, he couldn't remember the particular attack. There had been
so many.