"Linda Evans - Sleipnir" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

still with me. All things considered, Klaus was entitled to a sulk. So while he finished his meal, I lit my
carbide lantern and explored the passageway out to the limit of Bjornssen's helmet light. My footsteps
sounded hollow against the muffled sounds of Klaus reshuffling gear and readjusting straps.
I glanced back as Bjornssen marked the wall with a strip from his ever-present roll of surveyor's
tape; then I moved on as he turned to follow. A whole series of hundred-foot dropoffs, which had
required ropes and rock-climbing pitons to traverse, had given way to another long, low cavern with no
apparent end. The rock no longer looked entirely like limestone; or maybe it was just my eyes. I'd been
looking at nothing but grey rock for days, now. The only genuine difference I could pinpoint was the
absence of water.
After a good bit of beard-scratching, I decided that must account for the almost subliminal changes
I was noticing. The lack of water worried me—we were lower on water than anything else—but it
shouldn't have surprised me. It was predictable that the immortal bastard I was hunting would dry up the
water supply when I needed it most.
Bjornssen's footsteps stomped up close behind me. He was muttering to himself in Norwegian.
From the sound of it, he probably wanted to tear my head off and serve it to me for lunch. I started to
step out of his way before he could shoulder past and take the lead—
—and he yelled. The light from Bjornssen's lamp swung crazily. He smashed forward into my back
and kept falling. I stumbled, and windmilled for balance. A loud, sickening scrape reached my ears, then
he grabbed wildly at my ankles. I crashed to the floor and bruised face and ribs on rough stone. The
impact extinguished my lamp. Stunned, I tried to catch my breath. Bjornssen gabbled hysterically. His
weight was pulling me backward over a lip of rock. Both of us slid out over nothing at all.
I yelled—and all that came out was a gurgling croak. I left skin behind on the rough stone, and tried
to lift my face. We were still sliding. I grabbed for any available handholds to brake our fall, and didn't
find any. His whole weight hung suspended from my ankles. The only light came from his helmet. It
swung crazily as he struggled. Wild, distorted shadows left me grabbing for handholds that were nothing
but illusion.
"Hang—on—" I gasped. He made a lunge for my knees with one hand—and missed. I slid
backward another six inches, and dug in with my fingernails. The rough lip of stone caught my crotch.
"Dammit"—I used elbows and hands, hugging stone in an effort to stop our fatal slide—"get your—hands
around—my knees—"
My feet jerked hard. I gave an involuntary yell as I slid backward clear up to my chest. My legs
dangled in empty space. Even without looking, I could sense how long a way it was to the bottom.
Bjornssen screamed and cursed and hung on by my bootlaces.
Then he was gone.
The light faded swiftly below me. His screams echoed, dropped rapidly away until I couldn't hear
him anymore.
For long moments I hung absolutely motionless, halfway to falling to my own death. Then, in the
process of scraping myself painfully forward, gasping and flailing until most of me was on solid rock
again, it occurred to me I hadn't evenseen a hole big enough for a man to fall into.
I scooted backward until my back touched solid rock, and wished there'd been a way to back up
even farther. That hole hadn't been there. Itcouldn't have been there. I listened for a moment to my heart
pound in my ears. I thought about letting go of the rock floor to strike the sparker on my helmet; but my
lizard brain wouldn't let my hand relax its deathlike grip.Okay, I thought, I'll just sit here and think for
a couple of minutes . My thoughts weren't pretty.
 I'd seen men die before. Had killed a few, myself. But this . . . I felt sick all over, like I'd tricked a
puppy into the jaws of a killer wolf. Dammit, I hadn't liked the man much; but he had been a good
spelunker, a loyal guide, and a decent enough human being. He certainly hadn't deserved to die,
especially when he didn't have the faintest idea what I'd dragged him into.
I was hunting Odin by my own choice. My own pride, combined with the recognition that I needed
to hire spelunking expertise, had contributed to Klaus' murder as certainly as though I'd shoved him