"Steve White - The Prometheus Project" - читать интересную книгу автора (White Steve)

mostly shielded by Chichagoff and Admiralty Islands, but we'd gotten some messy aftereffects. And
now the rain was worse than usual. So I wasn't able to get a really good view of the group of men
emerging from the HQ Quonset, including the elderly guyтАФor at least he seemed elderly, although for
some reason it was hard to be sure. His hair, which I could see before he pulled the hood of his parka up
over it, was gray, shading to white at the temples. His left side was turned to me, and even in these
conditions I could see he had one hell of a facial scar. Then he turned toward me, and for a very small
fraction of a second our eyes met.
Then he was gone. That was all there was to it. I'm certain I wouldn't have noticed him at all, except that
something about him seemed oddly familiar.
Afterwards, I described him to my roommate Dan Buckley, who'd been at the facility longer than I had
and fancied himself the ultimate repository of insider knowledge. Even while condescending to
enlighten my ignorance, he couldn't entirely conceal his surprise at the glimpse I'd gotten.
"Hardly anybody ever sees him," Dan explained. "The only people he has direct contact with are the
higher-ups. I guess he's up here for consultation or something." Evidently feeling he had somehow lost
ground by revealing that he was impressed, Dan leaned close and spoke in his wisdom-imparting voice.
"They say he's got direct, automatic access to the President."
"I suppose he'd have to, considering . . ." As I replied absently, most of my mind was contemplating the
fact that I'd seen the man who was the ultimate reason all of us were there, up the Lynn Canal Inlet from
Juneau, not quite halfway to Skagway. And now that I knew who he was, I remembered the one slide,
made from a poor-quality photo, that I'd seen of him. Of course, he looked older now, as was only to be
expected. But the scar was still a dead giveaway.
But I'm getting ahead of my story. All this was, of course, after I'd been recruited for the Prometheus
Project. I remember the day that began, too. In fact, I'd remember that day even if I'd never been
recruited. It was the day no one of my generation can ever forget.
***
Those of the younger generations (God, have I actually lived long enough to hear myself using a phrase
like that?) find it very difficult to believe that not so very long ago Washington, DC, was like some
sleepy, comfortably down-at-heels southern state capital.

file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/White,%20steve%20-%20The%20prometheus%20project/0743498917___1.htm (2 of 7)28-12-2006 15:57:10
 - Chapter 1

It's true, though. At least as recently as the early1960s you could just drive your car into the Capitol
parking lot, and if you could find a space that was neither reserved nor already takenтАФwhich was often
possibleтАФyou could simply park and walk into the Capitol building. No metal detectors. No Delta Force
wannabes waiting to swoop down on you. And as for the White House, you just strolled along the
streetтАФit was a street thenтАФto the East Wing and got in line. I swear it's true.
And it wasn't just the big-deal government buildings. Washington had at least its share of large hotels, of
course, but even those had character. And the city was full of smaller places with dark wood-paneled
bars that had aged well, their walls covered to practically the last square inch with framed, faded,
autographed photos of politicians who'd gotten soused there. Those places had even more character. So
did the sidewalk cafes that lent a delightful suggestion of Paris or Rome in the days before the freaks
took over the sidewalks. The whole city oozed character. It was a great town. Really. May I be
sentenced to live in today's DC if I lie.
I was there in November of 1963. It was a little over a year after I'd parted company with the Army. (No,
I don't want to talk about it.) My new career had taken me out of town, and I liked this particular job
because it brought me back to Washington, where I was based. I loved WashingtonтАФespecially in the
autumn. Forget those famous cherry blossoms in the spring. Autumn was best.
Not that I had all that much time to appreciate it. I was there on business. Business took me to a certain
bar in GeorgetownтАФan area recently made fashionable by the Kennedy administration types, but still