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

gurgle.

Stepping back to avoid the spurting arterial blood, he tipped the guard backward into the gorge. For a
moment, the guard teetered, arms wheeling as he tried to regain balance, eyes stretched open in horror, a
wash of blood flowing down his chest. Then he tumbled into the blackness.

Khalid listened. After a handful of seconds, he heard a distant thud.

Content, he crossed the bridge and slipped into shadows. From here he would need to move quickly
and quietly. He proceeded across the base toward the elevator, avoiding pools of light. Thankfully, they
were few and far between.

After four minutes, he was at the elevator. The area, well lighted but empty of eyes, was unguarded. The
military, isolated so far from the world, was too damned confident with the security of their periphery.

After a minute of study, Khalid crouched and darted for the huge metal box that housed the elevator's
motor assembly. He slipped a cube of plastique from his inner jacket pocket and secured it to the
assembly in a darkened corner. He paused a moment. No time to be frugal. He took a second cube and
positioned it next to the first. That was better. More than enough to leave a crater where the motors now
stood. He carefully wired the bomb to ignite with the proper signal from his transceiver. He eyed his
handiwork with a thin-lipped smile.

A security blanket. When the time was right, this should cover his escape, ensuring no one followed him
back up.

After a final check, he fled into the dark.


EIGHT
SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING? MORE LIKE MIDNIGHT.

Ashley shook her head, staring out the windshield as the electric vehicle bumped along. Due to the
enclosed space of the caverns and the risk of fouling the air with carbon monoxide, internal-combustion
engines had been prohibited, except for a few watercraft.

So the electric golf-cart-like transports, nicknamed "Mules" by the Navy personnel, were the only real
means of travel around Alpha Cavern.
Ashley rubbed at the Mule's fogged window. Only the headlamps broke the darkness ahead. Beside
her, with both hands firmly gripping the wheel, sat Dr. Symski, a young freckled researcher still new to
his degree.

From the back seat, over the buzzing whine of the electric motor, Ben's snores erupted like shotgun
blasts. She glanced over her shoulder at him. How could he just fall asleep like that? The trip was a
one-hour excursion over rough terrain. An exceptionally large bump jarred her back into a forward
position.

Dr. Symski turned one eye toward her. "I can't believe I'm sitting next tothe Professor Carter," he said.
"I've read your paper on the Gila dwellings. Amazing stuff. And now here you are."

"Thanks," she said. The young researcher had too much enthusiasm for so early in the morning. Her cup