"Дон Пендлтон. Doomsday Disciples ("Палач" #49) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Carter's course, there was no doubt about the destination.
Bolan broke off the track, running parallel and letting the sedan
unwind. With any luck, he would arrive ahead of Carter.
He was on the numbers once again, running with the wind at his back.
It was the wind of war, sure, and it smelled of death.

8

Amy Culp, working on her third cup of coffee, moved restlessly around
the small apartment. Physically exhausted, she was afraid to sleep in the
strange place, never knowing when danger might arise. A shower might have
helped, but it would also prevent her from hearing the telephone, or someone
at the door.
The old apartment house was full of sounds. The muffled ringing of a
telephone, doors opening and closing, a toilet flushing somewhere overhead.
Each noise spoke to her of secret enemies coming to recapture her, or worse.
It was good to be away from Minh, away from the dark atmosphere of the
Universal Devotees. Amy felt relief, freedom, but her feelings were tempered
with fear. She was not beyond the church's reach, nor was she certain of her
safety in the new surroundings. Her rescuer - God, she didn't even know his
name - seemed to be a decent man, but he was one hell of a dangerous man,
and that left Amy with a host of unanswered questions.
Who was the man in black? How did he know her?
What was he doing at the Devotees' retreat? Who was he working for, and
what was that business about a phoenix nest?
Amy dropped into a chair. Wearing out the carpet wouldn't bring answers
to her questions.
What she needed was a way out, an escape hatch away from Minh's army
and the stranger with his guns. They could play war games, but she didn't
plan to be the prize.
Amy started weighing her options.
She knew where she was. She had checked street signs along the way,
working out directions from her spotty knowledge of the city. Amy knew she
was in Haight-Ashbury, and she knew the name of the street and the number of
the house.
So far, so good. But transportation was a problem.
Under the circumstances, walking was risky so she saved it as a last
resort. She had left Minh's estate without a dime, thus eliminating taxis
and public transportation. If she had access to a car...
Amy stiffened in her chair, suddenly alert. Someone was moving in the
corridor outside, footsteps approaching from the direction of the stairs. In
a moment they were at her hiding place, hesitating.
She held her breath, afraid to make a sound. Her eyes never left the
doorknob; she would scream if it moved.
Keys jingled across the hall. A door opened then gently closed. Amy
slowly released her breath, letting go of her grip on the chair. Her hands
were trembling and she clenched them into angry fists, her knuckles
whitening. A single tear marked her cheek.
It was ages since she cared enough or felt enough to weep.
The moment passed. Amy's mind returned to thoughts of freedom, of