"Foster, Alan Dean - Alien Nation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

illuminating dirt and dust.
They could also clearly see the aged alien proprietor. He was standing
behind the counter conversing animatedly with one of the two aliens who'd
just entered. He stopped talking when the taller Newcomer reached into
his coat and withdrew a blunt, combat-grade pump-action shotgun and aimed
it at his chest. Raincoat extracted a similar weapon from the depths of
his black slicker and whirled to confront the deserted doorway. It was
hard to make out the Newcomer expressions at a distance and through the
glass, but Sykes thought Raincoat looked nervous. The one facing down the
proprietor was relaxed and all business.
"Christ, you see what they're carrying?"
"Yeah." Tuggle's expression had gone grim. "Backup better get here quick.
Don't do anything stupid. Or brave."
"Who, me? You got your vest?"
Tuggle winced as he was reminded of his bulletproof che st protector. "Of
course. Nice and safe according to regulation, tight next to the spare
in the trunk."
"Yeah, that's comforting, ain't it? Mine too."
They were both tense because of the unexpected heavy firepower the two
aliens had produced. Combat shotguns hardly seemed required for holding
up mom-and-pop groceries. Maybe the thieves were insecure.
The larger alien was gesturing sharply with the powerful weapon. Though
they couldn't hear anything out in the street, they could see the
Newcomer's lips working rapidly, could see the tenor that came into the
old proprietor's eyes. He started filling a brown paper sack with cash
from the register.
Tuggle nodded tensely. "Back of the room, rear right." Flicking his eyes
past the pantomime being played out before them, Sykes saw that the
proprietor's wife was standing frozen-faced near a back portal. Out
front, Raincoat was hopping from foot to foot to relieve the tension. No
human being would have moved in quite that fashion, could have managed
quite so perfect a succession of cross-steps without preplanning. The
emotions, if not the dance steps,
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were the same. It only served to remind the two detectives crouched across
the street that none of the people inside the grocery were human.
The proprietor continued shoveling money into the bag. It was taking a long
time because his hands were shaking and he kept dropping bills. This only
made his tormentor angrier, which in turn made the old fellow more nervous
still.
Raincoat wasn't the only participant in the nighttime drama who was getting
antsy. Tuggle nodded at a car parked near the market.
"Watch the driver. I'm going for a better angle on the door. "
Sykes glanced down the street, back at his partner. "Thought you wanted to
wait for a backup?"
"They'll be here in a minute. Got to make a move now. The driver. "
Sykes turned back to the street, leveling his pistol. "I got him. Don't get
pinned going in."
His partner nodded curtly, then took off like a scared crab, running