"Timothy Zahn - Blackcollar 2 - The Backlash Mission" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

against the trees around him. When he again looked up, all three armored defenders were lying
motionless on the ground. Shifting his eyes to the broken window, he was just in time to see the
second of the two black-clad men disappear inside the mansion.

Kanai: inside backup, his tingler signaled. Getting his feet under him, he sprinted across the lawn.
The roof chain gun remained unfocused; those who should have been manning it were apparently
busy elsewhere. Replacing his slingshot in its sheath as he ran, Kanai drew his nunchaku and
prepared his mind and reflexes for the shift from long-range to close-in fighting.

But for the moment, at least, the fighting was over. Four bodies decorated the floor near the window,
their weapons scattered about even more randomly. All four faces were familiar: street lice, the
cheapest and most expendable part of Reger's organization. Put into the attackers' path for the sole
purpose of slowing them down... which meant the real soldiers were farther in, waiting. Senses alert,
Kanai headed inward.

To find the "real soldiers" hadn't done any better than their amateur counterparts. Kanai passed three
more bodies, two of them still with deathgrips on their guns. All three had clearly been shooting
from cover... and all three now carried shuriken in vital spots. Shifting his nunchaku to his left hand,
Kanai drew out a pair of his own throwing starsтАФjust in caseтАФand continued on.

The sound of voices reached him half a hallway from the room where the trail ended. Conversational
voicesтАФcalm, even, incongruous amid the carnage. Reaching the room, Kanai looked in.

It was a tableau he'd seen time after weary time before in the last few years. The two black-clad men
stood at apparent ease a few meters from their middle-aged target victim, the five additional bodies
silently staining the carpet around them showing their casual stance for the illusion it was. The
attackers were always the same, the minor bodies might as well be; it was only the target victim who
ever changed.

At least, Kanai thought, this one isn't begging.

Manx Reger wasn't begging. Standing by his bed, a dressing gown thrown haphazardly on, he spoke
with the calm tones of a man who has already prepared himself for death. "So I'm overreaching
myself, am I?" he was saying to the leftmost of the men confronting him. "Has it occurred to you,
Bernhard, that you may be overreaching yourself?"

"I do what the contract calls for, Reger," Bernhard told him coldly. "No more, no less. Right now my
job is to tell you our client thinks you're eating too much of the black-market business in this
territory."

"Your 'client,' eh? Sartan, I suppose? Again?"


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Blackcollar: The Backlash Mission

Bernhard ignored the question. "So now I've told you. I suggest you do something about it." His
hand curved in signal and both black-clad men began moving back.

A cautious frown creased Reger's forehead. "You mean... that's it?"