"James Rollins - Subterranean" - читать интересную книгу автора (Romeyn Henry)

"So areyou ready to scoop some booty?" he asked.

She smiled into his laughing eyes. "Hell, yes. I hope there's still time later to explore those cliff dwellings.
I'd even skip lunch for a chance to get at them today." Taking a hearty bite of her sandwich, she found
the bread moist and the meat rubbery. "Especiallythis lunch."

Ben just kept smiling at her. "Don't like military fare?"

She smirked at him. "I'm going back for some pudding and a cookie."

"Mom!" Jason cried. "No fair!"

Jason's finger dabbed up every stray cookie crumb from his dessert plate. Then he sucked on his finger,
savoring the hint of chocolate. "Can't I have one more cookie?" he begged his mother.

"You've already had two. That's enough. Why don't you go to the restroom and wash up?"

Jason mumbled something under his breath and shoved his chair back. "Fine."

Ben piped up as Jason passed, "How about a game of pool after you're done?"

Jason's tight features softened. He eyed his mother. "Can I?"

"Sure. Now scoot. We load up shortly."

"Be with you in a minute, Ben," Jason said, darting from the mess hall into the restroom across the hall.
The bathroom was empty. Jason popped into the middle stall and fumbled with his belt.

As he sat down, he heard the door swing open, the noise from the hallway intruding until the door swung
shut again. Someone whistled a tuneless melody as he approached the bank of toilet stalls and entered
the cubicle on Jason's right. Still whistling, the man dropped his pack on the floor of the stall. Right beside
Jason.

Jason watched, wide-eyed, as a black-haired hand reached down and released the pack's clasp, then
fumbled within it. Jason heard a match strike . . . followed shortly by a long exhalation. He could smell a
burning cigarette. Next he heard the unbuckling of a belt, and the whistling continued. As the whistler sat
down, the man bumped his pack with his heel, sending it toppling over. A small pile of plastic-wrapped
cubes of what looked like gray Play-Doh tumbled into Jason's stall.

A spat of foul foreign words flowed from the neighboring stall. He watched as the man reached to the
floor of the stall to collect his pack and straighten it up. Jason raised his feet just in time as an arm swept
into his stall and scooped up the cubes. More angry words. He could see the tip of a nose as the man
checked to make sure he had all the cubes.

Just then, the door to the men's room swung open again. Another man crossed to the urinals. Jason
heard a zipper whisk down, followed by a characteristic splashing. The man at the urinal sighed. Jason
listened as his neighbor buckled his pants, then resecured his toppled pack.

His neighbor left the stall.