"Allston, Aaron - Doc Sidhe 02 - Sidhe-Devil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allston Aaron)

Zeb asked mildly, “Now will you tell me what’s going on?”
Harris smiled. “Nope.”

“What do you mean, no police?” Zeb, tying the silent gunmen’s hands with drawcords cut from the curtains, found time to glare at his friend. Harris stood easily, one of the brassy revolvers in his hands, while in the adjoining room Gaby shed her wedding dress in favor of a pullover sweater and slacks. Zeb tried not to be distracted.
“Police can’t do anything about it,” Harris said. “Gaby, ready?”
“Shoes,” she said, and came in to sit on a chair and put them on.
“Police can get answers. Make them talk.”
“No.” Harris shook his head. “We could get some answers if we felt like employing torture. Which I don’t. We could hand them over to the police and these poor sons of bitches would be dead in a day or two.”
“L.A. cops aren’t that bad.”
“No, but these guys are likely to be dangerously allergic to ferrous metal. Put them in the wrong kind of handcuffs, in a cell, in an ordinary hospital room, they’ll be poisoned to death before the doctors even figured out what was wrong.” Harris looked from prisoner to prisoner. “You guys. I’m going to take you to the bottom of the stairwell and tie you up there. Eventually you’ll get loose and can split. I’m doing this just ’cause I don’t want your deaths on my conscience. You owe me your lives. Remember that sometime.”
They just glared.
“Your red-headed pal is under a couch outside the Catalina Suite, and your other pal is under some chairs stacked at the side of the suite.” Harris offered the squat men a mirthless smile. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
“Ready,” Gaby said. She took up her uncle Pedro’s gun and trained it on the three men.
Harris went into the adjoining room.
“Harris, are you going to write the note?”
“No, you do it, I’m changing.”
“Well, I’m guarding.”
Zeb sighed. “I’ll guard.” He took up one of the brass handguns, swung the cylinder open to assure himself it was loaded, and closed it again. He held it at the ready. “Just like a normal revolver?”
“Just like,” she said. “Except that it’s devisement-reinforced bronze, or maybe beryllium bronze, instead of steel. It fires a big, slow bullet, kind of like the original Webleys. In spite of its weight, expect a fair amount of kick.” She set her own gun down and dug around in the bedside table’s drawer until she found hotel stationery and a pen.
“Let’s see,” she said, and began writing as she talked. “ ‘Dear Mama and Papa, and Mom and Dad Greene, please tell everyone we know about what they did to the Toyota, and you’re not going to catch us that easily.’ ”
“Good start,” Harris said.
Zeb aimed at the silent, glowering gunmen. “This is surreal. Gaby, I thought you hated guns.”
“I do, pretty much,” she said. “But if you’re going to shoot somebody, there’s nothing better for it. ‘By the time you read this, we’ll be gone, halfway to our honeymoon, which isn’t really in Toronto, despite what Cousin Jane thinks. Fooled you.’ Aren’t you ready yet, Harris?”
“Almost.”
She smiled at Zeb and whispered, “I knew he wouldn’t be. But he was bothering me about it-”
“So you have to bother him. Right.” Zeb gave Graybeard his war-face. It was something to do that fit the unreal mood of the situation, and he was gratified to see one of the other gunmen lean away from his intensity, though Graybeard did not.
“ ‘And now you’ve fallen for our master plan. We’re gone, so you have to do everything. Jane can pack us up and check us out; we’re already paid up through tomorrow. Mama and Papa and Minister Mike, if you’d act as hosts at the party, we’d be grateful forever. Pedro can throw everybody out when the time is right, and if Mom and Dad Greene would pack up the presents and have them shipped over to our apartment, we’d really appreciate it. We love you all. Signed-’ ”
“ ‘P.S.,’ ” Harris called. “ ‘I think Uncle Pedro accidentally left his gun in my room; I’ve put it in the bedside table.’ ”
“Oh, good point.” She scribbled that down.
Harris stepped back from the other room, now attired in blue jeans, dark T-shirt, and jeans jacket. “Ready.”
“About time. You men, always slowing things down with your dressing and your makeup . . .”
“Well, I’m about to do it again,” Zeb said. “I’m not dressed, I’m not packed, and I’m not checked out.”
“Okay, you go down to your room and do that now,” Harris said. “While we’re disposing of our squat little friends. We’ll meet you in the lobby in . . .” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes?”
“Done.”

Chapter Two
On the walkway between the plane and the gate, Harris stretched. The plane had been packed, so he’d mostly sat in cramped discomfort on the long flight from L.A. to New York.
“He’s going to be mad,” Gaby said.
Harris nodded. “He sure is. But not as mad as if we took him there and got him killed. Then he’d really be mad.”
They reached the gate. Beyond it they saw the main walkway between gates. It was thick with travelers.
Gaby said, “He is mad.”
Harris looked. He sighed. “That doesn’t begin to describe it.”
Ahead of them, unmoving in the exact center of the walkway, straddling his suitcase, his expression one of glowering unhappiness, stood Zeb Watson. People walking by caught sight of his expression and circled around to keep well clear of him.
As they neared him, Harris put on a cheerful smile. “Would you believe we forgot?”
Zeb picked up his bag and fell in step beside them. “Nope. You ditched me.” His voice was a low growl.
“How the hell did you find us, anyway?”
“Accident. After waiting around at the hotel, after checking your room, after making an idiot of myself, I took a cab to your address to see if I could figure out what the hell was going on. And when I found your address, it was a damned commercial mail-drop place. You don’t even really live in L.A., do you?”
Gaby shook her head. “Our real apartment is here. Nice high-rise on the west side of the park.”
Zeb glared. “How long have you been living in New York? And why didn’t you tell me you were back?”
“We don’t live in New York,” Harris said. “So, technically, we’re not back. We just have an apartment here. Again-how did you find us?”