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

I awoke alone except for Gelert, which wasn't what I'd had in mind. Over
breakfast, I pondered whether I felt used.
She was a big girl. She'd known what she was after. She'd gotten it.
Used. I shrugged mentally. Not the first time.
Leaving Gelert to guard the plane, I broke camp and set out immediately
for the driver's cabin. I wanted daylight to scout the area, and assure
myself this was not a trap.
Mitch and I had divided Robbie's two targets. Mitch had planned to cover
Conrad in Toronto, while I watched the truck driver, since I'd lived here
after Stelle and I split. That was our plan four days ago. Somehow, Robbie
had known Conrad would be away from Toronto that night at his lodge in the
Muskokas, and had killed him there. Once Mitch heard of Conrad's death,
he'd head here, but Robbie had a full day on him.
It was up to me.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, warming the crisp fall day,
as I followed familiar forest trails. My thoughts kept drifting to
Leiddia.
Ed's map was clear, and I made good time, reaching a rise overlooking the
cabin by early afternoon. Finding a spot with good cover and a clear view
of the building, I watched, listened, and smelt the breeze. I repeated
this process at three other locations before I was satisfied.
The driver was there, plus three men with rifles. Conrad's death had not
gone unnoticed. I could detect no one else.
My plan was to intercept Robbie on his way to the cabin, away from the
attention of the guards. My problem became figuring which route he'd take.
Three sides of the cabin were open field. Approaching undetected required
coming in from behind, moving down through trees from the rise where I now
stood. Undergrowth choked most routes to the rise. The best path followed
a forested ridge, where the forest floor was clear under the roof of
trees.
I picked a spot giving a view of both the ridge and the fields surrounding
the cabin, and downwind from the ridge path. After a snack of dried beef
washed down with warm water, I settled behind a huge fallen tree to watch,
wait, and sniff.
One hour. Darkness. Two hours. Moonrise. Four hours. Predators are used to
waiting. I spent the time thinking of Leiddia. Her face and body kept
shifting into Stelle's.
Midnight. The cry of a screech owl brought my head up. I shivered in the
cold. The owl. Symbol of the souls of the dead in Indian myths. Shamans
gave owl feathers to the dying to help them pass into the next world.
Just then, I caught a whiff. A minute later, I saw a huge shadow moving
steadily along the ridge. For a moment, I thought I saw two shapes. Must
have been the light. I watched long enough to guess his route, then moved
to an intercept position.
Hidden, I listened. Twigs breaking, leaves rustling. Closer. Footsteps,
breathing. I stepped out in front of him.
Startled, he stopped, dropping into a defensive stance. Suddenly, I became
aware of something some distance behind him. Something big and moving
fast. And growling.
Shit. He'd brought help.