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

whatever they had wasn't a contagious disease. Death was
infinitely preferable to insanity.
They gathered around and made the expected remarks on
how tasty and juicy I looked. I invented a few curses, which
they took in stride. Then the Count waved the women on and
they came at me with hands raised, their fingernails glistened
like steel. Probably razorblades glued underneath.
This was no time for finesse, so as they got close, I kicked
the blonde in the left breast. She didn't bat an eye. That was
impossible. There was no way a bra, much less a Kevlar vest,
could be hidden under her T-shirt. Kicking a woman in the
breast is like kicking a guy in the balls. Blondie should have
dropped big time.
Smiling, Red grabbed my hair and twisted my head about
as if I was a child. Then she opened her mouth wide,
exposing every inch on those long white fangs. They actually
looked like her own teeth. That's when I realized the freaks
were really going to drink my blood. I had faced death lots of
times in тАШNam as kid. In the back alleys of Chicago, too. But
there was a big difference between a bullet in the chest, or a
knife in the stomach, and having a trio of drugged out wackos


14
 Judgement Night: Bureau 13 Book 1
by Nick Pollotta


suck me dry like a free cherry soda. That was no way for a
nice PI to die.
My brain was whirling with escape plans, none of them
worth a damn, when the door in the corner slammed open
and in strode a SWAT team.
Or at least that's what they resembled. There were three
of them, two men and a woman. All were dressed in
camouflage outfits, with backpacks, satchels and dozens of
weapons hanging off them. One guy was tall and skinny, like
he hadn't had a good meal since his last birthday. The woman
was kinda short, slim and muscular-looking in a nice way. The
other guy was downright fat. But he had a genuine shit-eating
grin on his face as he worked the bolt on the huge M60
machine gun in his hands. I could tell this was a man who
enjoyed his work.
My three freaks spun about at the sound, and hissed
louder than steam radiators. Geez, they were really putting in
overtime on the old vampire act.
As two of the SWAT guys separated, Skinny pulled out of
his shoulder bag a melon-sized crystal ball and smashed it on
the floor. Instantly every door and window was covered with
stonework sealing us in. In spite of the situation, I dropped