"000036-parryspr" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yngve A R - Parry's Protocol)_______________________ A.R.Yngve PARRY'S PROTOCOL _______________________ Chapter 36 CENTRAL WESTMOREHAM OCTOBER 11 All available lights in the motel-room were switched on, including the desk lamp: yet Abram squinted over his laptop computer, as if barely able to see the letters on the screen. He made a printout, and the in-built laser printer printed out the written text from the screen. The sheet produced was empty save for one word: CATHY. Abram rose from his chair, tore off the paper from the printer slot and crumpled it up, before tossing it in the overstuffed waste basket among the other paper balls. He scratched his back, picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, got out his phone and punched in a number. Then he punched some scrambler buttons. A nasal, faint voice answered. "Hi, Abram. You know what bloody time it is?" "Eleven here and two in the morning there, but I know you're used to working late hours in the computer room. Listen, 'Jorge'. Have you had time for cross-checking those files yet?" "Soon. Has Ned given the go from your department?" "Of course. If you can't trust me, then who are you going to trust?" The voice in the phone gave out a short laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll call you when it's finished." "Thanks. And hey, I'll fix you tickets for the Canadian Rugby Cup next year." "Great. Bye!" "See ya." Abram put away the phone, undressed, took a shower, dressed again. He put on the jacket. He went to the door, took the coat and hat from the coat-hanger, opened and walked out on the parking-lot. The sky was black, and the illuminated main street stretched northward in a straight line. He put on his outdoor clothes; the coat billowed in the irregular gusts of wind. With his hands dug into his pockets he strode away to the car. _______________________ A.R.Yngve PARRY'S PROTOCOL _______________________ Chapter 36 CENTRAL WESTMOREHAM OCTOBER 11 All available lights in the motel-room were switched on, including the desk lamp: yet Abram squinted over his laptop computer, as if barely able to see the letters on the screen. He made a printout, and the in-built laser printer printed out the written text from the screen. The sheet produced was empty save for one word: CATHY. Abram rose from his chair, tore off the paper from the printer slot and crumpled it up, before tossing it in the overstuffed waste basket among the other paper balls. He scratched his back, picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, got out his phone and punched in a number. Then he punched some scrambler buttons. A nasal, faint voice answered. "Hi, Abram. You know what bloody time it is?" "Eleven here and two in the morning there, but I know you're used to working late hours in the computer room. Listen, 'Jorge'. Have you had time for cross-checking those files yet?" "Soon. Has Ned given the go from your department?" "Of course. If you can't trust me, then who are you going to trust?" The voice in the phone gave out a short laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll call you when it's finished." "Thanks. And hey, I'll fix you tickets for the Canadian Rugby Cup next year." "Great. Bye!" "See ya." Abram put away the phone, undressed, took a shower, dressed again. He put on the jacket. He went to the door, took the coat and hat from the coat-hanger, opened and walked out on the parking-lot. The sky was black, and the illuminated main street stretched northward in a straight line. He put on his outdoor clothes; the coat billowed in the irregular gusts of wind. With his hands dug into his pockets he strode away to the car. |
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