"Van Lustbader, Eric - Angel Eyes(eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)

A beam of light entered the chamber, played across the cairn of skeletons. It penetrated the latticework structure, deeper and deeper, darkness and light, revealing layer upon layer of bones, as a spotlight pierces deep water.
Tori saw a bar of light touch her skin, the flesh white among the white bones, a glare in her eyes, dazzling her, and she closed them, praying that she and Ariel had buried themselves deep enough so the Japanese could not distinguish the living from the dead. At that moment she felt a kinship with these poor, murdered people. If their spirits were still here, she prayed they would reach out to protect her.
She breathed tidally, shut her mind down, diminished her wa, her inner energy which, if these Japanese had been trained as she had, they might be able to sense even though she was hidden from their sight.
Beside her, Ariel did not move. He might have been dead. He knew what to do, too.
"Bah! There's nothing here," one of the Japanese said.
"The dead are here," the other Japanese said.
"Mute witnesses. Let's go."
But they did not move. "Those two saw us," the first Japanese said. ' 'I want them.''
"Fine. I want them, too. But they're not here."
Still, they did not leave. The light continued to play over the cairn. Abruptly it increased in brightness, and when the first Japanese spoke again, he was heart-stoppingly close to where she and Ariel lay.
''Are you certain? What do I hear? Is it breathing? Is it you- or me? Are we the only ones in this room?"
Tori felt a trickle of sweat make its way down the indentation of her spine. She recognized this man as the philosophical one, the maniac who said he enjoyed living outside the law. He was more dangerous than the other one; his imagination was by far the keener.
She heard a metallic click, sharp, clear, echoing in the confined space, and she thought of the machine pistols they had been holding.
"All I have to do to find out," the first Japanese said, "is to spray this pile of bones."
Tori's heart threatened to burst through her rib cage.
A loud scrape as of a shoe sole. Then the second Japanese said, "Are you crazy? This is a death site."
"What do I care?" the first Japanese said harshly.
"These dead haven't been property buried. Their spirits aren't at rest. To disturb them is a sin even you don't want to commit.'' There was a pause. "Why don't you admit we've lost them. It's a maze down here; they could be anywhere. We don't have the time to shoot up all the dark places in these tunnels. And we don't want to be heard. Come on. If we stay any longer we'll be in danger of missing our pickup. I don't know about you, but I want to get out of this hellhole.''
"But those two-"
"What did they see? They can't know what we're up to. Forget them. They were probably tourists who wandered down here for a thrill and a shiver in the dark.''
"Shit."
Then the light was gone, replaced by a glow in the tiny chamber, swiftly fading. Darkness descending, Ariel and Tori waited.
Ariel started to move, but Tori put one hand on his shoulder, a finger pressed gently to his lips.
Across the littered floor the rat was back, its bright, beady eyes shining, and Tori saw in their depths the possibility of betrayal. If the rat squealed now, and if, as she suspected, the Japanese were waiting with their light off just inside the adjoining chamber, then they would know that they had not been alone with the cairn of skeletons, and spirits or no spirits, the hail of machine-pistol fire would come, the end.
Tori continued to watch the rat as it made its circuitous way toward them through the maze of bones. It was clear now that the rodent scented them, and it was hungry.
Tori waited, patient, closing her eyes to slits. Her right hand lay relaxed along the line of Ariel's hip. The rat was very close now, and Tori, without seeming to move any other part of her body, whipped her right hand out to the rat and, in the same motion, neatly snapped its neck.
Time passed. Tori let her consciousness drift off. Semiawake, but with her senses more alert than before, she heard the tiny scraping sounds the Japanese made when they gave up their vigil, clambering back through the succession of chambers into the more familiar corridor.
Tori's lips touched Ariel's neck, and together they rose from the dead.

Ariel and Tori were standing on one of the two terra-cotta tile balconies of Ariel's magnificent house on Russian Hill in San Francisco. One hundred years ago Ambrose Bierce, Bret Harte, and Mark Twain frequently met in a cool salon atop this nearly vertical hill.
It was not quite forty-eight hours since the incident in the eighteenth century Jesuit tunnels. Ariel, who had been returning home, had invited Tori to accompany him, and she had accepted because she found that she had lost her taste both for Buenos Aires and solitude. Besides, though she was reluctant to admit it, Ariel intrigued her. Reluctant, because for so long she had gone out of her way to avoid even a hint of a relationship or complication with a man. But she had been presented with an enigma: what was a pair of Japanese Yakuza assassins doing in the tunnels beneath Buenos Aires, and how did Ariel Solares, the man who had told her so glibly that his life was prosaic, know they would be there?
Tori looked down. Below them, the city of hills swept away to the foot of Hyde Street and, beyond, the gray bay, dotted now with ships, where, no doubt, unseen dolphins played. The house's other terrace overlooked Lombard Street as it wound its serpentine way down to North Beach.
Behind them, filling up Ariel's vast living room, were mementos of the ancient civilizations of South America: painted pottery, carved stone statues of women and animals, diminutive wooden weapons set with blackened iron tips Tori knew had once been dipped in poison.
" 'Through the years,' " Ariel Solares said, " 'a man peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdohis, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, tools, stars, horses and people.' " He was quoting a fragment of Jorge Luis Borges that Tori knew.
"This is the perfect spot," she said. "Away from everyone, above everything.''
"My only regret," Ariel said, "is that I'm not here nearly enough." He turned to her, refilled her glass with more champagne. "Are you familiar with San Francisco?"
"Not really." Tori drank. "I'm afraid I have the native Los Angelino's reflexive distaste for it.''
"It's not bad as American cities go," Ariel said. "I'd prefer Paris, but I've got to work."
Х 'Don't the French need beef?''
"Not as much as we Americans. And they're a bitch to deal with. Very picky about imported meat. I'd rather deal with the Japanese." He laughed, then shivered as a cool breeze ruffled his hair. The sun had gone down minutes ago. "Let's go in, shall we?"
She had never particularly liked San Francisco, but she was wild about Ariel's house. She had never actually been up to Russian Hill; it was like living along the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. There was a peace, an apartness, in the height and the vistas, that appealed strongly to her.
Inside, he stood so that the purple sky was reflected in his coffee-colored eyes. He seemed about to say something, then turned away.
"What is it?" Tori asked.
For a time Ariel said nothing. He looked casual and relaxed in a white sport shirt, black slacks, a natural jacket of flax and silk. He seemed genuinely disconcerted. "I want to ask you to go to bed with me, but I know I shouldn't."
Tori laughed. "Well, that's a new one-a new line, I mean."
"It isn't. At least, I didn't intend it to be." He seemed so uncomfortable that Tori considered cutting right to the heart of the matter. But then she thought that he would have to learn his lesson sometime, and that in the end he might be better off learning it from her.
"Look, you've made it obvious from the moment we met that you're attracted to me," she said seriously. "I appreciated your candor. I'm here, aren't I? Don't tell me you can't feel how attracted I am to you. What I don't understand now is the 'shouldn't' part. Why are you suddenly backing off?"
"You'd never believe me. I-" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Could we forget I ever said any of this?"
"I doubt it," Tori said, moving closer to him. "You'd better learn not to check your brains at the door before you open your mouth. You never know the trouble your own words can get you into."
"I think I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is," Ariel said.