"Steven Gould - Jumper 02 - Reflex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

That was the first time.



She stopped screaming, hadn't realized she'd started, but her voice cut off into choking sobs.
She sat back from the crouch, banging into the glass top of the coffee table and spilling a pile of
books across the carpet.

She tried to rub her back where she'd struck the table edge. It stung—she'd scraped skin.

The trouble with being a trained psychologist is that when you experience something unreal, you
consider the chance that you are experiencing a psychotic break.

Well, at least I know it's possible. Davy didn't the first time it happened to him. Her
breathing slowed and some of the tension eased out of her. She felt drained, weak, as if she'd run up
several flights of stairs.

Can everyone? If they've taken thousands of experienced jumps?

She wanted to talk to Davy about it but, of course, she couldn't.

Where are you, David Rice!

There were several messages on voice mail but they were all from the secretary she shared with
the other two therapists at the clinic. She'd missed seven client appointments yesterday. None of them
were from Davy.

She called his pager number and punched in 911, their code for come home now. He didn't.

She checked her watch. It was only six-thirty in the morning. She had wanted a good start for
her hike. But it was after eight on the east coast.

She started by calling the Adams Cowley Shock Trauma Center in Johns Hopkins Hospital, in
Baltimore. Davy wasn't there. All the patients admitted in the last forty-eight hours had their own
names. None of them were John Does. None of them had appeared suddenly, inexplicably.

It took her forty-five minutes to find the number in an old phone bill. Usually, when Davy
received a page from Cox, he'd jump to D.C. and use a payphone to answer, but there'd been a time
when he was sick with the flu, dizzy and feverish, and had actually called from the condo.
 It rang several times before switching to the voice mail system. "Brian Cox here. Leave a
message. I'll get back to you."

The voice took her back ten years, to her only meeting with the man, a judge-supervised
interview when the NSA first discovered Davy. Not long after that, she'd spent several days illegally
detained in an NSA safe house. She shuddered and almost forgot to speak at the tone.

"This is Millie Harrison-Rice, Davy's wife. Please call me." She left the condo's number and the
clinic's, then pushed the handset cradle switch down, cutting the connection.

Shit! What had Davy gotten into?