"David L. Robbins - Endworld 10 - New York Run" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

Dougherty reached her side.

"It gives me the creeps!" Winkel commented, his brown eyes wide from
fright.

"Stow that crap, mister!" Captain Edwards stated. He stared down the
stairwell, noting the dusty metal rails and the cobwebs covering the walls.
"We know our objective, people! Let's get cracking! Geisz, the point!"
 "What else?" Geisz quipped, and started down.

"I just hope the Minister was right about this place," Winkel said as he
followed Geisz:

"Can the squawking!" Captain Edwards ordered. "You know better!
You're the best of the best!" he reminded them. "Technic commandos! Act
like it!"

The three troopers took the reprimand in resentful silence. Geisz, in
particular, was irritated by Edwards' audacity. She'd seen far more
combat than he had, and she knew what was expected of a professional
storm trooper. Still, now was hardly the time to be distracted by petty
animosities. She had to concentrate on the task at hand, or she might not
live to see Chicago again. Moisture was trickling from under her helmet,
plastering her crewcut blonde hair to her scalp, causing her skin to itch.
She suppressed an impulse to scratch the itching, and focused on the
stairs ahead.

Dust and spiderwebs.

And more dust and spiderwebs.

But nothing else.

Geisz saw the streaks of dust caking the metal railings, and suddenly
realized there wasn't any dust on the stairs.

SomeoneтАж or somethingтАж must be using the stairs on a regular basis,
but not bothering to use the railings.

Three guesses what they were.

Geisz reached up and cranked the volume control on her right ear
amplifier. There was a crackling in her helmet, then a sustained hiss as
the transistorized microphone strained for all its circuits were worth.

What was that?

Private Geisz slowed, listening intently. She thought she'd heard the
muffled tread of a foot on the stairs below. She leaned over the railing and
swept the lower levels with her lamp.