"Alan Dean Foster - Into the Out Of" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

In addition to the pair of hunting rifles mounted on the back window rack, the pickup held a secret
compartment behind the seats. Vandorm had installed it himself, working nights when the garage was
deserted. The compartment contained two Uzi submachine guns that Conroy had bought in New
Orleans. Considered together, the machine guns and the plans were likely to bring more than a
tongue-lashing down on all of them in any court in the country.

He took a step backward and stumbled. His white hat fell off and he stumbled again, stepping on it.
“Just let me get my ID.” He turned and pointed toward the other cars. “It's in my wagon over there.”

“Just hold it right there, friend.” The man in the suit produced a small blue snub-nosed pistol. He held it
loosely in his right hand—but not that loosely.

“But my ID,” Vandorm whined. He'd never had a gun pointed at him before and it shook him pretty
bad. He felt a warm trickle start crawling down his right thigh and saw the disgust in the eyes of the man
who'd spoken first.

There was no way out. More men in suits had appeared and were rounding up the rest of the celebrants.
The station wagon was gone and he thanked God Cecelia and the boys had gotten away before the bust
had come down.

Two new vehicles drove in on the dirt access road and pulled up in the parking area. The big vans had
little bars over the windows, just like on TV.

He could see what was coming as clearly as he'd seen the porno film that had unspooled at Sutherlin's
last weekend. All their planning and careful preparation was going to go down the drain. The dynamite
and blasting caps and expensive Uzis would be confiscated. Just when they were ready to do something
and wake the country up a little, this had to happen.
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How had they found out? Who'd given them away? He slumped. Maybe no one had given them away.
Most likely this was just a routine roundup. The government men probably knew nothing of the plans or
guns. But they'd sure as hell find out when they searched the truck. And they would search the truck,
Vandorm had no doubt of that. Of all the dumb, stinking, rotten luck!

Across the way he could see two of them going through Sutherlin's Cadillac already. Sutherlin stood
nearby looking stiff and uncomfortable in his neatly pressed whites. Probably wondering what this would
do to his lucrative accounting practice when the word got out, Vandorm mused. The Cadillac contained a
duplicate set of plans. About the best he and Conroy could hope for was that, having found one set of
plans, they wouldn't search the pickup and find the guns. His spirits lifted slightly. There was a chance the
rest of them might get off light unless Sutherlin talked. He didn't know if they could count on the
accountant's silence.

“You fellers are making a big mistake,” he told the pair of agents who'd confronted him. “We weren't
doing anyone any harm. Just exercising our Constitutional right of assembly.” It seemed as though
hundreds of agents were prowling through the woods, though in reality there were fewer than two dozen.
Men in whites, his friends and drinking buddies, the neighbors he shot pool with, were being hustled into
the waiting vans. Some of them were too far gone to know what was happening to them. Soon he and BJ