"Nick Pollotta - Bureau 13 - Judgment-Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pollotta Nick)

deaths. Alone as usual, Jessica Taylor was in a skimpy bikini
and practicing dives off a floating wood platform. In an even
skimpier red speedo, Richard Anderson was lying on the
beach working on his always perfect tan. Dressed in Army
fatigues, George Renault was reclining in a lawn chair on the
dock, happily field stripping his M60 machine gun. For
George, that was as close to fun as he got. The man simply
liked our line of work too damn much. He was also paranoid.
But for someone in the Bureau, that was a very healthy
attitude.
The yellow sun was shining in an azure sky dotted with
puffy white clouds. Birds were twittering in the lush green
forest lining the shore. The lake was smooth and clear. I kind
of felt that we were living in a postcard. All in all, we were
doing a fine job of forgetting Jimmy's death.
I shook my head and cast again, the line whizzing out to
hit amid the weeds, sending a splash into the air. A month
ago in Chicago, we had finally tracked down a mad scientist
with a poor copy of Victor Von Frankenstein's medical journal
he had downloaded off the Internet. Didn't sound like much,
but the doc had joined forces with the local Nazi Party to pay
for his experiments. Frankenstein Nazis. Lord, what a fight
that had been. Ended with the downtown Chicago convention
center in flames, the Sears Tower listing three degrees
towards the lake, a helicopter chase above Lake Shore Drive
and a multiple bazooka battle that left most of us wounded,
the doc and journal burned to a crisp and Jimmy Winslow
catching a shell right in the chest. We wanted to try a
Resurrect, but there hadn't been enough of him to mop up
25
 Judgement Night: Bureau 13 Book 1
by Nick Pollotta


with a sponge. Our section chief had ordered us on vacation
and here we are. Having as good a time as possible after the
recent death of a close friend.
Feeling something in my eye, I laid my rod aside and
popped the top on a beer from the plastic cooler. I'd really
miss the stupid little bastard. For an incubus, a sex vampire,
Jimmy had been an okay guy. In salute, I took a healthy sip.
Although, of course, I never would have let him date my kid
sister.
Suddenly, a truly thunderous belch from Father Donaher
shattered the peaceful silence of the lake. Heads turned,
somebody laughed, and the big Irishman blushed crimson.
тАЬFaith, I do apologize,тАЭ he said, that fake brogue of his
dripping shamrocks off every syllable. тАЬI fear Mr. Alvarez's
lunchtime offering was a wee bit spicier than my delicate