"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораfollowed the captain. Behind the door was a dimly lit, steep stone staircase
with steel handrails. Taking three steps at a time, the captain dashed upstairs. Maxim caught up with him and saw the pistol in his hand. On the run, Maxim slipped the gun from around his neck. For an instant he felt sick at the thought of having to shoot people. Then, remembering that these weren't people, just animals, he felt relieved. The repulsive slime beneath his feet, the bleary light, the spit-spattered walls, all served to confirm his conclusion. Second floor. Kitchen odors. The terrified face of an old woman showed through the slit of a slightly opened door. A half-crazed cat leaped from under Maxim's feet with a loud meow. Third floor. Some blockhead had left a bucket of slop in the middle of the landing. The captain knocked it over and the slop flew into the stairwell. "Massaraksh!" roared Pandi from below. "Out of the way. Downstairs!" barked the captain at a couple embracing in a dark corner. Fourth floor. An ugly brown door. A scratched tin plaque: "Hobbi, Dentist. No appointment necessary." A drawn-out cry behind the door. The captain stopped and grunted: "Locked!" Sweat rolled down his dark face. Maxim didn't understand. Pandi ran up, pushed him aside, aimed his gun at the door, below the doorknob, and released a burst of machine-gun fire. Sparks and pieces of wood flew through the air. Instantly, shots rang out from behind the door, through a prolonged scream. More chips started flying. Something hot and solid whizzed over Maxim's head. The captain flung open the door. The room was dark; yellow flashes illuminated puffs of smoke. "After me!" yelled the captain, and he dove headfirst toward the flashes. Maxim and left. Maxim threw out his hand, caught a hot muzzle, jerked the weapon away. Someone's dislocated joints crunched softly but distinctly, and a large soft body stiffened as it fell. Ahead, in the smoke, the captain barked: "Don't shoot. Take them alive!" Maxim threw down his gun and rushed into a lighted room. It was filled with books and pictures, and there was no one to shoot. Two men were writhing on the floor. One was screaming. A woman lay unconscious in an easy chair, head flung back. Pale, almost transparent. The captain stood over the screaming man, looked around, jammed his pistol into his holster. Pandi gave Maxim a powerful shove and burst into the room. Behind him were legionnaires, dragging the stocky body of the man who had been shooting. Sweaty and excited. Candidate Zoiza handed Maxim his abandoned gun. The captain turned his frightening, dark face toward them. "Where's the other one?" he snarled, and instantly a blue curtain fell and a lanky man in a stained white smock jumped from the window ledge and headed straight for the captain. Slowly he raised two enormous pistols to eye level. His eyes were glassy with pain. Zoiza screamed. Maxim was standing sideways and didn't have time to turn. He sprang as hard as he could, but the man managed to pull the trigger once. Face singed, choking from powder fumes, Maxim grabbed his wrists and the pistols clanked to the floor. The man fell to his knees, and his neck went limp. When Maxim released him, he collapsed to the floor. "Well, well, well," said the captain. "Set this one over here," he ordered Pandi. "And you," he said to pale, perspiring Zoiza. "Run downstairs |
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