"Guy N. Smith - Night Of The Crabs 2 - Crabs Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'That pilot must have been crazy,' she whispered hoarsely. 'He was
deliberately trying to scare us. He might have misjudged and killed us and
himself.'

'I doubt there's a pilot in there,' he replied. That place you see there is a
top ministry research base, guarded day and night. Nobody really knows what
they're up to except that they're experimenting with low-flying fighter
aircraft to go in under enemy radar. That's the one fly in the ointment here,
aircraft back and forth all day long, but eventually you get so used to them
that you don't even notice them. I was saying, before we were so rudely
interrupted, that if we go to the other end of the island we can find
ourselves a nice little place in the dunes. We can bathe, swim, or just get a
nice tan.'

'You've been here before, then?'

'I used to come camping here a lot in my younger days. Sometimes it's nice to
go over old ground again, remember places as they were when life was fresh and
exciting.'

He turned the car off the track, let it bump its way gently across the uneven
grass, took a left-hand sweep to avoid some tents. An orange van and a Land
Rover were parked side by side a little further on and he eased up alongside
them, switched the engine off. Above them, all along the skyline, screening
them from Cardigan Bay, was an uneven line of sand-dunes, tall spiky grass
growing lushly in spite of the dry weather.

'Well, we're here.' Keith Baxter turned to his companion, his gaze taking in
her shapely figure beneath the sweat-stained red T-shirt and the crumpled
pleated skirt. Short dark hair and wide blue eyes, a distinctive Welsh
characteristic.

'I should've brought a picnic of some sort with us,' she struggled up into a
sitting position, smoothing her clothing as she did so. 'I don't know why I
never thought of it. This heat addles the brain.'

'I intended taking you for a meal later, anyway,' he got out, walked round the
car and opened the door for her. 'For a couple of hours or so let's not be the
conventional British holidaymaker with his packaged food. Let's enjoy life.
We'll do just anything we feel like doing.'

It was a steep climb up to the summit of the dunes, Keith leading the way,
pulling Irey up behind him. Then they were standing surveying the deep blue
sea with scarcely a ripple in sight, wide golden sands that led on right up to
the rocky north end of the island, maybe thirty people in sight the whole way.

'See,' he laughed, 'we've virtually got the island to ourselves. All the silly
buggers have trekked off to see the Radio Roadshow. Let's find ourselves a
nice little shady spot somewhere in these dunes.'