"Дон Пендлтон. Renegade Agent ("Палач" #47) " - читать интересную книгу автора

present position."
Vaughn's frown deepened. "By regulation, Sir Philip, such a request
must come through channels, as you know."
"Mr. Vaughn." Drummond raised his voice enough to turn the heads of a
few of the air-traffic controllers working nearby. "This is an urgent
matter, directly affecting national defense." He lowered his voice again.
The guy had a flair for the dramatic, Bolan had to admit. But then, a
man would have to become an accomplished actor if he expected to survive the
double life.
"As tower chief," Drummond went on, "I believe you are aware of the
functions of Transworld I/E?" It was plain that Vaughn detested having rank
pulled on him. But he spun on his heel and went to one of the vacant control
terminals. He flicked a selector knob and a series of green-tinted images
flashed onto the screen, each showing a different radar array. He studied
one, then straightened.
"Approximate latitude 55 degrees, 50 minutes north," he announced.
"Longitude 18 degrees, 32 minutes east. Heading roughly east-northeast."
Bolan was at the chart on the wall near the entry staircase. The KGB
plane and its cargo of top-secret U.S. Navy defense equipment was over the
Baltic Sea, and would be for about ten more minutes.
"If there is nothing else you require..." Vaughn began, in a tone that
made it clear it hoped that were the case.
"A phone," Bolan said.
Vaughn looked at him for the first time. "Now, who might you..."
"Your office, Mr. Vaughn, if you please," Drummond broke in. "I assure
you we will not be long."
The tower chief's office was a cubicle above the main control room,
reached by a spiral staircase. To one side was a control terminal with a
radio set to the control frequencies-for monitoring employee performance,
Bolan guessed. Vaughn gave both men a suspicious glance, as if he were
afraid they were going to steal something as soon as they were alone. When
he had gone, Bolan motioned Drummond into the chair. He unslung the camera
case, lay it on Vaughn's desk, and let himself gingerly down beside it.
Keeping his eye on his prisoner, Bolan allowed himself a moment of
rest. The pain in his shoulder was becoming a presence, an increasing
reminder that the beat had to be on double time now.
A panel on the camera case slid open to reveal a false bottom. Inside
was an electric cord on a spring-loaded reel.
Bolan pulled it out and plugged it in. Unclasping and lifting the lid
revealed a simple control panel consisting of two toggle switches, a
zero-center meter, a red indicator light, and a recessed button with a
plastic safety cap. This was another Gadgets Schwarz special, a radio
transmitter designed to emit a low-power but extremely narrow beam of UHF
impulse. It was adaptable to point-to-point communication, or as a remote
control. It was now in the latter configuration.
Bolan flicked up the first toggle and a whip antenna extended from the
case's top. He pointed it roughly east-northeast. When he worked the second
toggle the meter's needle activated, veering to the left. Bolan corrected,
and the needle trued toward center. The indicator light began to blink.
A few beats later it was a steady bright red, and the needle rode the