"Chalker, Jack L - G.O.D. Inc 3 - The Maze in the Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

grocery stores where these guys had bought food would be canvassed, and within a
day he would know more about at least the leaders of this band than they
probably knew about themselves.
Within that same period of time, Brandy had started slowly coming out of it. She
could move her head, although she had a general headache, and could be hand-fed
food and drink. She really wasn't up for much talking, but it was impossible to
keep her from doing so and he had to report his progress regularly.
"Sam, I don't understand," she said hoarsely. "I mean, why not take me? Why
Dash? God, Sam, he's only a kid!"
"He'll figure out what's going on and play along," Sam tried to assure her.
"He's a smart kid, too. As to why him and not you-I'm expecting to learn that in
another day or two, after they make us sweat."
"You think they're gonna call?"
"Or something. Dash only has value to us, and even then only if he's alive and
well. They want something-apparently from me. Sooner or later they're going to
have to ask for it."
He kissed her and left her and walked down the hall where it had all happened.
The workmen were even now repairing the attic area and he cursed himself for not
having put more up there. There was always a weak point no matter how good the
system, damn it!
As usual around the house he was in his stocking feet, and when he turned to go
back down stairs he stepped on something and felt real pain shoot through his
foot. Hopping to the staircase, he sat down and carefully removed a shard of
thick glass which had been just lying in wait for him all this time. He was
about to toss it, then stopped, examined it again, and soon forgot that his foot
was still bleeding. He crawled around, found more, did some figuring, made it
downstairs while limping, and checked again on the downstairs carpet. The
results were inconclusive, but he put the small pieces in an envelope and called
security. He wanted to know, if possible, just what that glass had come from.
The fact was, he wanted to keep busy and to keep doing all that he could,
overlooking nothing. Outwardly he was calm and professional, but inside the fact
that Dash was missing had torn him up. The more he slowed down, the more he
relaxed, the more he saw Dash in his mind; coloring in the books, playing with
his toys, sitting in his Dad's lap while Daddy read him a story . . . Worse, it
was nearly impossible to avoid physical signs of the boy even though Sam did
avoid his son's room. The toys, large and small, were everywhere, and on the
door of his office was a crude sign in block letters in giant green crayon that
said "I LOVE YOU DAD." It was the most gut-wrenching thing of all but he
couldn't bring himself to touch it.
Deep down, too, there was also some guilt. Guilt that he'd been away when this
all happened, although it wasn't too clear what the hell he Could have done
against them that Brandy didn't. Hell, he almost never carried a gun. He spent
part of his police career faking his pistol scores; he never could hit the broad
side of a barn with one. And these fancy Company auto-aim jobs scared him
shitless; he had a nightmare of flipping one on and having it shoot Dash or
Brandy or some other innocent; And Brandy was far better at this karate and judo
stuff. He could hold his own against a scared street punk lashing out with fists
or a knife but he would be dead meat in two seconds against anybody who knew
their stuff.
No, he didn't have all those macho skills. He once got talked into going deer