"Linda Evans - Time Scout 5 - License Invoked" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

The receptionist chuckled. "Double on that, Agent Mayfield. Good luck."




Chapter 3

The gate attendant announced boarding for Business Class, and a dozen
passengers queued up to pass through the barrier. Elizabeth blew a
strand of hair out of her face as she paced, hoping she looked like no
more than a typical nervous traveler. She ought to feel proud. The
brass had never given her an international assignment before. This was
a promotion, she reminded herself. There'd been such envy on the faces
of the others in the Whitehall office that she was being sent off on a
mission, with its tantalizing whiff of influence from High Places and
Mysterious Danger, instead of someone with practical experience in
dealing with kidnapping and anonymous threats. But all she could do was
worry. Elizabeth felt a headache coming on. She had no aspirins with
her. To get them she would have to go out the door through security
again, leaving her post. That wouldn't do at all. She massaged the
knotted tendons at the back of her neck.

The female staff member politely asked Economy Class to board.
Elizabeth presented her ticket with hardly a look at the attendant, and
ran down the passageway to the jet. She had to wait ages at the door
for the cheerful women and men in uniforms to stow baggage and coats
for their First Class charges. Standing on tiptoe, Elizabeth managed to
spot the back of Fionna Kenmare's green-dyed head as the woman leaned
over to tap champagne glasses with a big bruiser of a man across the
aisle from her. Gad, why would anyone do that to her hair? The suede-
cut was the very next thing to being shaved bald. Elizabeth supposed
the style went with the makeup. As Kenmare turned to signal the flight
attendant nearest her for a refill, Elizabeth got a full look at the
star's face. A fine-featured head with good cheekbones had been used
like a billboard for graffiti-like makeup. From the eyelids to the
hairline, she wore white eye shadow overpainted with what one presumed
were mystic symbols. She had slashes of red-orange blush along her
cheekbones, and if that wasn't enough of a visual headache, her lips
were sharply painted with fuchsia to clash with the rest of the
ensemble.

"Why doesn't she just hang a fireplug from her nose and complete the
picture?" Elizabeth muttered, as the flight crew politely but firmly
steered the Third Class passengers down the aisle toward the rear of
the aircraft. It wasn't as if the woman was even much of a singer.
Elizabeth could remember hearing Fionna Kenmare on the radio many
times. She had a pretty voice, but seemed more to be shouting her
lyrics than singing them. What good did it do her fans if they couldn't
understand the words? Or didn't that matter to fans any longer?