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

The man at the urinal spoke. Jason recognized Ben's accent. "Khalid, you're not supposed to smoke in
here, mate."

"Ah, these Americans have too many rules. Who knows which to follow and which to ignore? Do you
wish a cigarette?"

"Thanks for the offer," Ben retorted. "But right now I've a date to play pool."

The restroom door was shoved open, and Khalid tromped out.

Jason put his feet back on the floor and stood up. While fastening his belt, he looked down. The
Egyptian man had missed one of those plastic-wrapped cubes. It had rolled to the far side of the toilet.
Jason reached down and picked it up, wondering what to do. It squeezed like firm clay. He knew he
should return it to Khalid, but then he would know Jason had been there eavesdropping. He was shoving
it into his pocket when his stall door popped open.

"There you are!" Ben stood before him. "Your mom thought maybe you fell in."

Jason grinned. He pushed the cube the rest of the way into his pocket.

"What've you got there, mate? Did you pinch that third cookie?" Ben's smile took the heat from the
accusation.

"No," Jason said, with a hiccup of laughter. "It's nothing."

"All right, then. Let's shoot some pool."

Blakely leaned into a gust of wind as he crossed the base. The CO's office was on the far side of the
camp, away from the trash dump. If he didn't need this damned equipment so badly, he would have
proceeded directly to Alpha Base. But communiqu├йs and requests by Roland failed to sway the obstinate
CO. He needed those damned circuit boards; they were essential to the communications net.

He strode up the steps to base headquarters, where a guard checked his identification. Blakely gave him
a sour look while waiting. A red U.S. Navy helicopter buzzed them, spraying ice and debris into the
guard's cubicle. Frowning, the guard glanced up.
"You're clear, Dr. Blakely."

"Thank you." He proceeded inside. Damned rules. He continued down the corridor after hanging up his
parka. The CO's corner office was on the first floor. He strode up to the secretary, a yeoman with
black-framed glasses and poor posture.

"I've come to speak to Commander Sung," Blakely said before the secretary could open his mouth.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Just tell him it's Blakely. He'll see me."

"He's quite busy at the moment."