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

family, a prominent social position, and a vast personal acquaintance, there was no one she could call
long-distance right now to simply say she was feeling lonely and demoralized. She wasn't that close to
anyone.
She was thirty years old, healthy, wealthy, and socially and professionally successful. And, as she
downed another swallow of flat coke and cheap rum, she felt ... empty.

What had gotten into her? It must be the heat. She should stop being so appallingly maudlin. Thank
goodness there was no one around to see her in this conditionтАФsweaty, cranky, and wallowing in
self-pity. She never permitted people to see her this way. She never permitted herself to feel this way.
Fortunately, the bartender didn't seem to care, and the three other patrons of Bar Tigre were all involved
in a poker game in the corner.

Still, she was a disciplined woman who never gave in to despondency. There was a dirty, cracked mirror
lining the wall behind the bar. She looked up at it, staring forcefully into her own eyes, and ordered
herself to feel capable and confident, as usual.

That was when she saw him staring at her.
****
Feeling uncharacteristically moody after his final day at the Presidential Palace, Ransom walked through
the dark, muggy, filthy streets of Montedora City. He had dismissed his chauffeur-driven car twenty
minutes ago, wanting to clear his head with an evening stroll. Besides, despite the danger which lurked in
the city's streets after dark, Ransom figured Miguel's driving was more likely to kill him than any mugger.

What a hell of a job this had been. Ransom liked working for Marino Security International, and he had
willingly accepted this assignment to recommend and implement new security measures for President
Juan de la Veracruz. He'd done his duty here, but he wouldn't be sorry to say goodbye to this miserable,
oppressed country and its squabbling, egocentric rulers.

The assignment was finally over. Today he had finished reviewing the new security measures, and his
written report would be done by the end of the month. Veracruz had invited him to spend the night at the
Palace, but he had declined, preferring the quiet privacy of his shabby hotel room to the ostentatious
glitter of the Palace, where everyone seemed to scheme and plot even in their sleep.

Ah, well. It was over. Tomorrow morning, the President's private car would pick Ransom up and take
him to a military airfield, where the President's private plane would fly him back to the States.

He could hardly wait. He wanted some time off. He wanted some decent company, after putting up with
Veracruz and his cronies. He wanted to get a little pleasure out of life after being stuck in Montedora for
over a month. He wanted to undress and relax, after wearing a tie at yet another formal dinner tonight;
ever since leaving the Secret Service, he seldom wore a tie for anything but weddings and funerals. He
wanted someone to soothe his guilty conscience about having worked so hard to help preserve the
power, position, and lifestyle of a greedy dictator. Despite the moral ambivalence he felt about it,
Ransom had done a damn good job here; and because of that, he wanted a reward.

He pushed open the door of the Bar Tigre and saw the answer to all of his wants and needs sitting right
there at the bar.

She was very beautiful, almost intimidatingly so. But he'd never been easily intimidated, so he stalked
forward, eyes fixed on her.