"Joel Rosenberg - Hidden Ways 3" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenberg Joel C)

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA


CHA P T E R ONE


Something in the Air
Torrie Thorsen first picked up the scent just east of Lyndale, on Lake Street. He had gotten off the Number Four busтАФhis car was
buried in S-Lot under a bank of snow from the snowfall of two nights before, and he hadn't had the time to dig it out, not yetтАФat
Lake and Lyn, and thrown his book bag over one shoulder, and his gear bag over the other.

He considered stopping for some takeout at the Greek place at the cornerтАФMaggie liked their gyros, and Torrie liked the taste, if
not the name, of their "Cheeseburgerop-oulis"тАФbut it was kind of cold out, and he was dressed for the city, not for the country,
and Maggie and her roommate kept their apartment warm, and since she was expecting him there would be a fresh pot of coffee
on, andтАФ to be honest, and Torrie Thorsen made it a policy to at least always try to be honest with himselfтАФthe sooner he got
into her apartment and out of his coat, the sooner he could get Maggie out of her clothes and into her bed and get himself into
Maggie, and if that sounded awkward and crude even within the privacy of his own mindтАФand it didтАФhe wasn't going to say it
that way out loud.

Even if it was true.

Food could wait.

Dirty snow stood piled high, covering the curb, the little red flag on the fire hydrant peeking out. In the summer, it looked like an
antenna, as though city fire hydrants were really radios in bad disguise, maybe planted by Boris and Natasha, broadcasting hidden
messages to the Pottsylvanians.

But in the winter, it was just a piece of red plastic.

The smell of winter was in the air: diesel fumes from the buses mixed with the scent of cold, and with the mouthwatering smell of
sizzling gyrobeast on the rotisserie at the Greek place that just had to be deliberately pumped out at street level...

... and with a distant foul smell that was vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place it.

He shook his head and sniffed again.

It was gone, replaced with the rich meaty scent of roasting peppers and maybe some lemongrass.



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You got a good mix of tantalizing scents in the air in this neighborhood, what with a half dozen cheap little restaurantsтАФmost of
them quite goodтАФvying in different ethnic dialects for the local palate and wallet.

There was a Vietnamese place down half a block that had a remarkable way with those crisp egg rolls filled with cellophane
noodles, crunchy cabbage, and spiced shrimp; a hole-in-the-wall Ethiopian restaurant that served horrid-looking but wonderfully
spicy glops of indeterminate mush that you swept up with pieces of warm flatbread; and the fryolators at that Arabic caf├й always