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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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Шкловский Лев Переводчик
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"You give up hope too easily, Seöor Carter."
The voice came from somewhere right behind me.
At the first word, I got my arm around Martinez's
neck and held the stiletto at his throat in the classic
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NICK CARTER: KTLLMASTER
commando position. Both guns, dammit, were out of
action at that precise moment when I had Hugo out to
do business with.
"That will accomplish you nothing,"
the voice
said. "You are entirely surrounded, of course."
There was a rustle of the thick magnolia leaves. and
Enrico Porcell stepped out of the thicket. He had a
flashlight in his hand, no gun. He snapped on the light
and waved the beam at the bushes around the statue.
Four hoods carrying Halcon submachine ouns emerged
from the shrubbery and closed in, in a tight semicircle.
"Do us a favor, Sehor Carter." Porcell sounded gen-
uincly concerned now. "Refrain if you please from
carving up young Damian. It will avail you nothing,
and Damian, as you are at the moment in the process
of discoverin2, is a clever young fellow. More clever
than you think. We'd like to keep him."
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CHAPTER FIVE
He was right; pushing the stiletto into Martinez's
bared throat would get me exactly nowhere. I was
counting on the hope that Porcell would want me kept
alive for a while, and I didn't plan to do anything to
discourage that idea. Not at the moment, anyway.
I flicked the blade into a nearby bed of soft loam
and stepped back. Breath came back to Martinez in
short gasps. One of the hoods came up and took the
two guns away from me.
Porcell nodded his approval. "Now, Sefior Carter,
after I have a brief word with my associates, I must
wish you good night. Arrangements will presently be
made concerning you; my men will see that they are
carried out. I am tired this evening, and frankly, I was
not prepared for the long chase you gave us."
"Tell me how," I insisted. "How you knew where I
was going to take your friend here." With benefit of
hindsight—fat lot of good that is to anyone!—l was
beginning to see how it could have been worked.
' 'That was luck, Semr Carter. Damian called up
from the bodega to request my presence. It was neces-
sary for me to come personally to confront the police,
you see. I told him to wait until I got there."
"That's right, gringo," Martinez put in. "You sur-
prised me when I went out to move my car out of the
way."
"And so we saw Damian's car leaving with an unex-
pected passenger, by the skyway ramp. I suppose you
were so intent on your business in the car that you
didn't notice we were following all the way. At a cau-
70
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NICK CARTER:
tious distance, of course. My men have some experi-
ence."
True enough, I had been concentrating on my cap-
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NICK CARTER:
tious distance, of course. My men have some experi-
ence."
True enough, I had been concentrating on my cap-
tive's continued good behavior. And since I wasn't ex-
pecting a tail, of all things, I wasn't looking out for
one. It's difficult enough in the dark to tell one set of
headlights from another. Excuses I had plenty of. It
didn't make any difference.
While I thought it over and gave myself successive
mental kicks in the ass for carelessness, Porcell mo-
tioned for Martinez and one of the gunmen to step
aside. The three disappeared into a willow copse while
the two remaining heavies spaced out to cover me in a
diagonal cross-fire. The crickets increased the pitch and
volume of their hysterical leg-rubbing noises, and up
above, mounted on his old verdigris charger, General
Whatchamacallit presided over the whole eerie scene.
His stony face stared off into the distance, and he
didn't seem at all interested in what was going on down
below.
When they finally came back, there were only two of
them; Porcell had apparently gone home to catch up
on his beauty sleep. Martinez looked as if he had all
his old self-confidence back, and there was a happy ex-
pression on his face. Probably at the prospect of what
he knew was going to happen to me.
"Let's go," he said.
They marched me over to the shiny Ford sedan.
Martinez opened the door on the passenger side for
me.
I didn't move.
s 'Get in," he growled. T still didn't move.
Two mistakes were going to cost him plenty. He had
forgotten to reclaim his gun from the man who had
lifted it from me, and he had let himself get too close
to a heavy, movable object, the car door. But he was
on the wrong side of it. I had to lure him to where I
was standing.
I had another break—three of the four gunmen had
gone around to the opposite side of the car, and one of
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them had already climbed into the back seat, leaving
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them had already climbed into the back seat, leaving
one more behind me to deal with. While I stubbornly
held my ground and refused to enter the car, his gun
jerked up in readiness.
Martinez looked angry. He stepped around the
door, intending to shove me in, and that was when I
had him. I reached out and grabbed hold of the door
and swung it toward me with all the strength I could
muster. I stepped back out of the way so that it caught
Martinez square on the back and sent him sprawling
at my feet with a grunt.
In that same moment I wrenched the gun from the
hands of the other goon and landed a hard right on his
jaw. As I turned to make a run for it, my foot lashed
out to his groin. He went down in a heap on top of
Martinez.
It took the two others, standing on the opposite side
Of the car, no more than a second to scramble around
it and pepper the air with short bursts of semiauto-
matic fire, but that was time enough for me to sprint a
yard and a half around the wide pedestal of the eques-
trian statue.
I caught sight of little Hugo sticking hilt up in the
earth where they had made me discard it. I dived
toward it, rolled over once, reached out—and missed it
by inches. A clip of 7.65mm Browning cartridges
ripped a path through the flowers, and I kept on roll-
ing, lunging out and over a row of prickly bushes.
From behind the bush to where the trees rose up was
about five feet of open ground. I scrabbled forward on
my hands and elbows and half-ran, half-fell the dis-
tance. Their fire was slow in coming and wide of the
mark. I didn't stop to congratulate myself or figure out
how I had managed to avoid being hit; I just ran like
hell.
All five of them would be after me by now. The
noisc of their guns was bound to have attracted atten-
tion somewhere, and they wouldn't have much time. If
I could _iust evade them long enough, I had a chance of
making it.
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MCK CARTER: KIT-LMASTER
Finding a way out of this prettified botanical night-
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NICK CARTER: RTLMASTER
Finding a way out of this prettified botanical night-
mare was the first thing. With so many of them, I
couldn't hope to play hide-and-seek for very long. As I
ran back in the direction we had driven in from, I
could hear the rustling and trampling going on behind
me.
The only clear spaces were the narrow little paths
that crisscrossed the carefully arranged miniature zones
of foliage. To gain some distance I had to chance
them. The one I took led to a clearing where a play-
ground had been set up. At the far end I saw a shut-
tered wooden pavilion that they used for selling ice
cream and soda. I ran behind it and paused just long
enough to catch my breath.
From through the trees came the faint rumblings of
moving vehicles. I could hear them now—-or maybe I
only thought I did. It could have been just a feeling but
I knew I was within a couple of hundred yards of the
open street, people, traffic, and safety. You're almost
there, boy, I said to myself.
"Carter!" Martinez's voice called out sharply from
somewhere nearby. Too near. "Listen to me. You're
trapped this time. Don't force me to kill you. I promise
you'll stay alive. Those are my orders. Do you hear
me?"
Then he said something in a stage whisper to his
men. I could hear him doing that; they were that close
already.
My ears are good. From the sound of their footsteps
I could tell that the four gunmen were moving off In
different directions to search the playground. At least
one would be coming to have a look behind the pavil-
ion; it was the obvious place.
I hoped it would be only one. r sank as far as I
could back into the shadows and Ict my entire body
relax. My breathing was shallow but unstrained. I or-
dered my mind to become remote, uninterested. This
was the trick of the old ninjitsu adepts who could
conceal themselves in plain sight solely by the mental
effort of obliterating all trace of their personalities,
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their presence. Like jamming the telepathy waves that
tell a person when he's not alone.
There was someone coming. He felt his way around
the hexagonal corners of the pavilion cautiously, keep-
ing a good safe distance from the shadows. He was in a
hurry, and that was a point in my favor, but he wasn't
doing anything stupid. The long barrel of his Halcon
chopper carefully probed the dark areas, bumping
against wood.
He passed within a couple of inches of me. No reac-
tion. He had taken two steps forward, when my mind
snapped back to full awareness and my two hands shot
out and wrapped themselves like steel clamps around
his throat.