"Pollock, J.C. - Payback" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pollock J.C)

clearing into the base of a tree at the water's edge. Momentarily
stunned, he quickly regained his composure and got to his feet.
Shrugging off his harness and pack tray, he glanced up and watched
helplessly as a horrible drama unfolded before him.

Despite a frenzied attempt to stay aloft for the few additional seconds
it would have taken to reach solid ground, the first man landed in the
middle of the river. He bobbed to the surface only to disappear again
as the swift, treacherous current caught his parachute and pulled him
under, carrying him to his death beneath an ice ledge extending out from
shore.

The second man landed in the water but closer to the bank. He managed
to unfasten the chest strap and pull the quick-release devices that
allowed him to shed his parachute and harness. Swimming with short,
powerful strokes, he angled for shore.

Manes plowed through the knee-deep snow, barely maintaining his balance
as he ran along the bank. He shouted against the wind, trying
desperately to throw his teammate a rope. But the dark swirling water
pulled the hapless soldier out of reach and into the main channel,
sweeping him farther downstream, beneath the same ledge that had claimed
the first man.

Manes stopped running and dropped to his knees, cursing as he stared at
the point in the river where his friends had disappeared, the anger and
frustration raging inside him. He forced these crippling emotions to
the back of his mind as he focused his thoughts on the mission and the
fourth member of the team--and the top-secret equipment the man carried
with him. Finally he shouldered his rucksack, took his bearings, and
headed toward the distant ridgeline where he had last seen the young
sergeant.

The cold wind stung his face as he emerged from the dark recesses of the
forest and trudged through the deepening snow. He skirted a field near
the base of a hill, paused to check his position, then moved on. He
carefully searched the heavily wooded hillside where he had seen his
teammate descend, crisscrossing the ground and scanning the thick
evergreen canopy above. As he neared the top of the ridge a flash of
light drew his attention back down to the field he had skirted; another
light winked in the darkness, and another. Someone was tracking him.

Faint voices carried on the wind drifted through the forest as the East
German Army patrol spread out and moved slowly up the side of the hill,
their flashlights probing the deep shadows. Manes unslung his weapon
and glanced about for a place to hide, immediately dismissing the gut
instinct upon realizing that his footprints, clearly visible in the
mantle of snow now covering the ground beneath the trees, would lead the
patrol directly to him. Glancing in the direction of the voices, he
considered the bleak possibility that his remaining teammate had already