"Энди Макнаб. Удаленный контроль (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

soon enough if they were behind us.
I turned left and ran to the end of the corridor, turned left again,
and there was the fire exit. I pushed the bar and it opened. We came out
onto an open concrete staircase at the rear of the hotel, facing the
shopping mall about a quarter of a mile away. Kelly started to cry.
There was no time to be nice. I got hold other head so that her face
came right up to mine.
"People have come to take you away, do you understand that?" I knew it
would frighten her, and that it would probably fuck up her mind even more,
but I didn't care about that.
"I'm trying to save you. Shut up and do what I say!"
I squeezed her cheek hard and shook her face.
"Do you understand me, Kelly? Shut up, and hold me very tight."
I buried her face in my shoulder and lunged down the concrete stairs,
looking for my escape route. Ahead of us lay about forty yards of rough
grass, and beyond that a six-foot chain-link fence that looked old and
rusty. On the other side of that was the rear of the long row of office
buildings that faced the main road. Some were brick, some were plaster, all
different styles built over the last thirty years. The rear administration
area was strewn with clutter and large Dumpsters.
There was a pathway running across the empty ground, and it went
through at a point where a whole section of the chain-link fence had
crumpled or been pulled down. Maybe the hotel and office workers used it as
a shortcut.
Carrying Kelly was like having a rucksack on the wrong way. That was
going to be no good if I had to run fast, so I threw her around onto my
back, linking my hands under her butt so I was carrying her piggyback. I got
to the bottom of the stairs and stopped and listened. No sound of them
shouting or breaking down the door yet. The urge was just to run for it
across the grassy dirt toward the gap in the fence, but it was important to
do this correctly.
Still with Kelly on my back, not bothering to tell her what was
happening, I got onto my hands and knees. I lowered myself to within about a
foot of the floor and slowly stuck my head around the corner. There was a
chance that once I'd seen what was happening, I'd choose a different route.
The two cars had pulled up to the bottom of the staircase by the Coke
machine. The fuckers were obviously upstairs. I didn't know how many of them
there were.
I realized that the ground was in fact dead ground to them now, and
started running. The rain had been light but constant, and the ground was
muddy. It was reasonably well looked after, littered only here and there
with bits of paper, old soft drink cans, and burger wrappers. I kept heading
for the gap in the chain-link fence.
Kelly was weighing me down; I was taking short, quick strides and not
bending my knees too much, just enough to take her weight, bending forward
from the hips. She made in voluntary grunts in time with the running
movements as the wind was knocked out of her.
We reached the broken section of fence, which was buried in the mud. I
heard the screech of tires, then the sound of protesting suspension and body
work. I didn't bother looking around, just dug deep to try to lengthen my