"Brown, Dale - Fatal Terrain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Dale)

He recognized the voice immediately, of course, and it was
s if the sun had just popped out and the skies had turned clear
and blue, even though it was still gray and cold and wet out
here. The man opened his mouth to ask a question, answered
it himself-dumb question; he knew they could find his num-
ber easily enough if they wanted-so remained silent.
"How are you doing, sir?- the voice repeated.
Always friendly, always disarming, always at ease, the man
thought. This was obviously some kind of business call, but
with this guy there was always time for business later. Always
so damned polite, too. You work with a guy for, what, almost
ten years, and even though there's an age and rank difference
you expect to be on a first-name basis and can the "sir" stuff.

Not this guy, at least most of the time. "Fine ... good," Brad
replied. "I'm doing ... okay."
"Any luck out there?"
He knew I was out fishing? That was odd. It was no state
secret or anything, but he hadn't told anybody he was fishing,
or given out his phone numbers, or even told anyone he was
living in a little trailer in Nowhere, Oregon. "No," Brad re-
plied.
Too bad," the voice on the phone said, "but I got an idea.
Want to do some flying?"
The sun that had come out in his heart a few moments
before was now setting his soul on fire, and Brad fairly leapt
to his feet. The waders suddenly felt as if they weighed a
thousand pounds. "What's going on?" Brad asked excitedly.
"What are you up to now?"
"Look to the south and find out."
Brad did-and saw nothing. He had a brief, sinking feeling




10 DALE BROWN
that this was all a hoax, some complicated and brutal joke. .
... but then he felt it, that sound, that feeling. It was a
change in the atmosphere, an electricity flowing through the
air stirring and ionizing the moist sea breeze. It felt like an
electric current flowing through nearby high-tension power
lines, a snap of unseen force that made little hairs stand up on
your skin. Then you feel the air pressure rising, of a thin col-
umn of air being pushed ahead like air streaming out of a giant
hypodermic needle aimed right at you, the plunger being
pushed by what could very well be God's thumb, but was,
Brad knew, a very human construct ...
... and then the overcast parted and the clouds disgorged
a huge black aircraft. It was low, pointed, and very deadly-
looking. Brad expected it to roar past him, but instead it hissed