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

didn't really know Dirisha; she kept to herself, spent a lot of time working
out in one of the local dojos, and had no lovers, male or female, that he knew
of. But there was a strength in her beyond the physical, an essence of
something deeper. She could be a piece of it, he felt.
He walked to the main entrance of the pub, where Anjue and his three
assistants were working the line.
"Anjue. How is it going?"
"Ah, Emile, slow. I have only forty on my flat-screen, and three upranks
have called on the com to say they are coming at seventeen." He waved his
hands in that typical gesture used by natives of SpandleтАФa kind of outward
loop with each wrist. "The early darkness means a change in guard duty, so
fewer troops are free and the eagle doesn't fly for three days, so some are
unlined, what can I say?"
"Not to worry, Anjue. We get by."
Khadaji left and headed toward his private rooms in the basement. He
stopped by the dispensing window for a moment to tell Butch. The man sat
behind a three-centimeter-thick sheet of densecrystal set into a solid
plastcrete wall. The drug room might be a tempting target for thieves and it
was well protected. The doors were thick stainless steel with reaper locks,
and nothing short of a vacuum bomb would dent the densecris window.
Chem was purchased and delivered through the double drawers under the
window.
"I'm going to catch a little sleep, Butch. No calls for an hour or so."
"Copy, Chief." His voice had a metallic ring through the speaker set into
the wall over the window. "We'll try to keep the Scum from takin' over while
you're nappin'."
"Thanks, Butch, I appreciate that."


Chapter Three

KHADAJI'S PRIVATE SPACE was a combination of office and living
quarters. It was furnished simplyтАФa desk and comp terminal, a few chairs, a
foam-pad bed in one room; a shower, sink and bidet in the second room; a
small kitchen in the third and final room. Simple living quartersтАФon the
surface. What didn't show was the hidden store box set under the floor of his
desk, nor the tunnel under the refrigerator in the kitchen. He had dug the
tunnel himself, using a "borrowed" cutalong he returned before anyone knew
it was missing. It was a short, tight passage, leading from his kitchen into the
housing of his receiving transformer in the alley behind the Jade Flower.
There was just enough room for a careful man to stand inside the housing,
between the ceramic insulators and high voltage grid of the transformer. A
careful man could come up through the expanded metal grate over the floor
inside the housing and wait until the alley was clear to leave. A careless man
could not, for he would be dead, fried by the power circuits.
Khadaji checked his chronometer. Almost seventeen.
From the hidden store box, he took a set of black or-thoskins, a pair of
spetsdods and ammunition magazines for them, and a skinmask. This was
going to be a city operation and even though it was dark, he didn't want to
be recognized. He dressed quickly, tabbing the orthoskins on, smoothing the