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

Blakely shook his head, recognizing bullshit when he smelled it. "Tell him I'm here."

"Just a moment." The secretary punched a button on a board of yellow lights. He turned away as he
spoke, but Blakely could discern the words. "Excuse me, sir, but there's a Dr. Blakely wanting to speak
to you." A pause as he listened to the phone, then, in an even quieter voice, "I tried that, sir. He's
insistent." Another pause, his face reddening. It didn't take much to discern the secretary was on the
receiving end of a good dressing-down. The conversation finished with a final, "Yes, sir."

The secretary, beads of sweat on his forehead, turned to face Blakely again. "The commander will see
you now. Thank you for your patience."

Blakely felt sorry for the yeoman. He leaned down as he passed around the desk and whispered, "Don't
worry, son, everyone knows Sung's an asshole."

The secretary grimaced. "Good luck."

You make your own luck, Blakely thought, as he pushed through the door to the inner office.

Commander Sung sat behind a wide mahogany desk so thickly lacquered it looked wet. Spread out
before him were several open files. He pushed one file toward Blakely with a single finger as if repulsed
by the touch. "I've read your request, Andrew."

Blakely hated when anyone called him by his first name. Especially a sanctimonious paper pusher like
Sung. This was not the first time the two had locked horns. As the head researcher for the National
Science Foundation, he was often in deadlock with Sung, the senior Navy officer. Oftentimes, science
and the military were at odds on certain subjectsтАФespecially the scarce supplies stocked at this remote
base.

Their animosity had intensified once Blakely had made his discovery of the diamond idol. He watched
Sung turn green, coveting all the attention and money that had been flowing his way. Ever since, any
cooperation with the military on the base was like pulling an impacted tooth.

Sung continued, a slight sneer at the corner of his lips, "I thought I already made myself perfectly clear.
Those circuit boards are the last in stock. I cannot authorize their release until the backup supply arrives."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. I need those to repair a critical communications board."
Sung shrugged. "Damned unfortunate that your boards short-circuited."

"They wouldn't have if you'd supplied me with new boards instead of those ancient ones you scavenged
off old equipment." He leaned his fists on the desk. "I want thosenew boards. I won't have you
jeopardize this team."

"Then wait until the next shipment. It'll be here in three weeks."

"We've delayed long enough already."

"As CO of this camp, my decision is final." Sung rocked back in his chair.

Blakely had had enough of this bastard. He reached across the desk. Sung slid away, a look of shock
on his face. Blakely suppressed a smile. The bastard thought he was being attacked. What a fool! He