"Douglas Smith - Spirit Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Douglas)

turned to the forest, lowering their heads toward trailing gray shadows.
"A fitting honor guard," I commented.
"They felt I needed protection from your troops," he replied, jerking a
thumb at six timber wolves hovering at the tree edge.
"Garm, Fenrir, take off. He's a friend," I said, addressing the two
largest wolves. They glanced briefly at Mitch, then all six padded into
the forest.
Inside, he settled his bulk into an oversized chair, taking the proffered
Scotch. "You know this lake doesn't show on any map?" he said, downing the
drink, "Not even those the Ministry of the Environment makes from
satellite photos."
"Maybe the MOE needs better computers," I offered.
He glanced to where my array of computers and modems resided. "Or better
security on the systems they do have."
I shrugged, not rising to the bait.
Silence. He cleared his throat, staring out at the lake. "Speaking of
security ..."
"I hope you didn't fly up here to pitch that at me again," I interrupted.
"I'm out. No more. You've plenty of predator class to recruit for your
dirty little jobs."
He reddened.
"Besides," I continued, "Robbie runs security in the Circle. I doubt he'd
be thrilled about this."
He said nothing, fixing me with the hot angry stare of the challenged
bull. When he finally spoke, his voice was level. "Two years ago, Robert
became active with an environmental protest group."
"So what? Lots of us are activists. It goes with the territory. I got
Stelle into it. We used to try to recruit Robbie."
"Seen Robert lately?" he asked, too casually.
I snorted. "Mitch, I haven't talked to him or Stelle in eight years.
What're you driving at? Is this about Robbie?"
He sighed and nodded, suddenly looking very old. I had never thought of
him as old before.
"Gwyn," he said quietly, "Our Robert has threatened to kill two men. One
is an important man, the type who attracts attention." He'd been looking
at the empty glass in his hand. Now he looked up at me. "I need your help,
Gwyn. To find Robbie first."
I shut up then and listened as Mitch told of the logging protests, the
blockade, the protestors' deaths, and of Robbie's threat to kill Conrad
and the truck driver. He talked and pleaded, pleaded and talked.
Finally, he paused. "There's something else," he said, staring out at the
lake. "CSIS knows of this. According to our mole, somebody in CSIS is
leaking intelligence on the Herok'a to an outside party." He looked back
to me. "Gwyn, we think someone's resurrected the Tainchel."
Involuntarily, I bared my teeth. Damn it. I questioned him on his source,
what evidence he had, how recent was the tip, but he knew he had me.
Finally I'd agreed, because of the Tainchel angle, and because Robbie had
been a friend and Mitch still was. That's what I'd told myself at the
time. Now, watching the spirits dance in the firelight, I knew I'd done it
for someone else.