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

blast from a bomb during the sectarian troubles in Ireland. Elizabeth
tried to remain unbiased, but an opening like that raised her hackles.
Fionna was raised by a poor, disabled auntie in a cottage that didn't
have running water or electricity until the girl was ten. Her first
instrument had been an old penny whistle that she taught herself to
play by listening to the birds singing outside their window. Without
glass, no doubt, Elizabeth thought, snorting, as she turned the page.
No doubt the mattresses were stuffed with straw and discarded
Superquinn bags.

As a child, Fionna earned a meager supplement to their family
assistance grant by playing pipe music outside the pubs and stores. She
had found her first guitar on a dump. The strings had been chewed by
rats, but she swept and cleaned house for a music teacher for six
months to earn a new set. Elizabeth frowned, doubting sincerely that
strings cost that much. By dint of sheer talent, Fionna Kenmare had
pulled herself up from direst poverty and into the eye of the world.
She'd dyed her hair green so she would always remember her roots.

And leaves, too, Elizabeth decided, eyeing the shocking green pate in
the accompanying portrait. Sympathy was an emotion unlikely to be
roused by the image of the aforementioned star wearing a mystic robe
cut from khaki camouflage material and wearing a tongue-out grimace
that would have scared away space aliens. But what was the source of
the mysterious threats inferred by her supervisor?

"Magic has always been so important in Fionna's life," gushed the
columnist in the second magazine's article, accompanying an even more
weird photo. In this one the star clutched a dissipated black cat and a
cross-looking black rooster with a red comb.

Magic important, eh? More so perhaps than even Fionna anticipated,
Elizabeth thought. But she didn't know why MI-5 was involved at all.
All of the complaints Mr. Ringwall had told her about could have been
the result of drug-induced hallucination. The problem seemed more like
a matter for Interpol or a good therapist. Chances were that she'd
never know who or why was sending down pressure from Higher Up.

"Hey, that's Fionna Kenmare," said her seatmate on the aisle, who was
an American man about her age. He aimed a thumb at the picture and
spoke to Elizabeth out of the corner of his mouth. "I thought I saw her
get on the jet. Did you see her, with the makeup and the hair and all
that? Cool, huh?"

He grinned at Elizabeth, who smiled weakly back. Should she confirm the
star's presence, like any other fascinated passenger, or ought she to
keep the information to herself? After all, this man might be part of
the unknown threat.

"I don't know," Elizabeth said, affecting an innocent expression. "You