"Laura Resnick - Fever Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

тАЬMake it a double, please,тАЭ she said to the bartender.
тАЬAh, you like?тАЭ The chubby man smiled.

тАЬActually, I'm trying to get the mosquitoes drunk,тАЭ she explained seriously.

He didn't get it.

It had not been a good week, and Madeleine regretted that another trip to Montedora would probably
be necessary before her goal was accomplished. Her grandfather had bought a huge plantation in this
country over fifty years ago and named it El Rancho Barrington. It hadn't been a bad investment at the
time; the year-round growing climate and rich soil produced tomatoes, sugarcane and other crops for
Barrington Food Products.

However, social, economic, and political conditions had changed considerably over the years.
Montedora had become unstable, for one thing; President Juan de la Veracruz was the country's third
military dictator in seven years. Moreover, the farm was only producing half of what it used to, due to
bad local management. Madeleine had been urging her father, Thackery Makepeace Barrington, to sell
the plantation for several years. Not only did she worry about losing the property to nationalization, but
she also firmly believed that Barrington Enterprises should support the U.S. agricultural economy rather
than operating a feudal estate in a foreign country.

Her father had finally listened to her. Having gotten him to agree, she had come here to Montedora to
review the property and the local management before putting El Rancho Barrington on the international
market.

It had been a grueling, lonesome, and depressing week, and she wished desperately that her flight home
hadn't been cancelled. She also wished she could feel more optimistic about her chances of getting out of
here tomorrow. The airport seemed more like a county fair on its last legs than an international flight
center.

тАЬAnother, senorita?тАЭ the bartender asked, noticing she had finished her second drink.

She probably shouldn't. She never had three drinks in an evening. But what else was she going to do? Go
check into a shabby room and stare at its four walls? Re-read the two books she had brought from home
and already finished? Review the paperwork which made her despair of ever being able to sell El Rancho
Barrington?

тАЬYes, I'll have another,тАЭ she said.

She felt her elegant dress of thin silk clinging to her back, and her brow was damp with moisture. She
pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief and pressed it delicately to her overheated face. She was
sweating. Amazing. She never sweated. It was one of the many things her sisters disliked about her.

Oh, she knew they loved her, but there were a lot of things about her they didn't like. In fact, she
supposed the same thing could be said about almost everyone who knew her. The uneasy, slightly snide
jokes about her magna cum laude degree from Princeton, her mastery of every area of the enormous
family business, her fastidious personal appearance, and her general competence were legion. The more
she proved herself, the less affection she seemed to inspire.

Sitting here alone in a strange, seedy bar at the ends of the earth, she had to admit that, despite a large