"Timothy Zahn - The Green and the Gray" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

well into the darkened area. Five and a half blocks to go. "The smooth-talking romantic guy women
swoon over. Usually he either seduces them or else entices them unknowingly to their doom."
"Ah," Caroline said. "Though in this case it was hardly unknowing. LuAnn knew exactly what was
going on."
"Then why did she let Cesar manipulate her that way?" Roger countered, knowing full well that
getting started on the play's logic would only get him into trouble. "Especially when good old solid
Albert was standing there waiting for her to come to her senses?"
"I don't know," Caroline murmured. "I still don't think it was Cesar's fault."
"Maybe not," Roger said, forcing himself to let it drop. "I liked the set design, too," he added, hoping

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The Green and the Gray


the production's technical aspects would be safer ground. "And the music was pretty good. Chopin, I
think."

They had reached 101st street, and he was searching for something else positive he could say, when
the dim streetlights went completely dark.
Caroline jerked to a halt with a short, involuntary gasp. "Easy," Roger said, looking around as his
stomach tightened into a hard knot. The streetlights were gone, but at the same time the various
apartment windows above them were still lit, giving off a cheerful glow.
Which was, to Roger's mind, the eeriest part of all. He'd never seen a power outage yet that didn't
take out everything in a six-block area, streetlights and buildings alike. What the hell was going on?
"Just keep walking," he murmured.
"No," a deep voice said from their left.
Roger jumped, spinning around to face the vague shape standing on the sidewalk just around the
corner from them. "What do you want?" he demanded, cursing the quaver in his voice.
"You have trees?" the man asked.
Roger blinked, the sheer unexpectedness of the question freezing his brain. "Trees?" he repeated
stupidly.
"Trees!" the man snarled. "You saidтАФ" He broke off, coughing hard. It was the same cough, Roger
realized with a shiver, that he'd heard back at the corner.
Except that this man hadn't been there. No one had been there.
Beside him, he felt Caroline loosen her grip on his arm. "Yes," she said, raising her voice to be heard
over the man's hacking. "We have two semi-dwarf orange trees."
With an effort, the man brought his lungs under control. "How big?" he rasped.
Now, too late, it occurred to Roger that they might have escaped while the other was incapacitated.
But maybe they would have another chance. Bracing himself, he got ready to grab Caroline's hand
and run the instant another fit took him.
"About six feet tall and four across," Caroline said. "They're in pots on our balcony."
The man took another step forward. The light from the apartment windows wasn't good enough for
Roger to make out his features, but there was enough to show that he was short and broad, with the
build of a compact boxer.
It was also quite adequate to illuminate the shiny pistol clutched in his left hand.

"Small," the man muttered. "But they'll do." He gestured back along 101st Street behind him. The
streetlights there were also dark. "Come."