"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 2 - Tribulation Force" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

Tribulation Force.
Rayford embraced his daughter. “Anything wrong?”
“No, but Bruce has been trying to get you. He's called an emergency meeting of the
core group for early this evening. I don't know what's up, but he'd like us to try to
get hold of Buck.”
“How'd you get here?”
“Cab. I knew your car was here.”
“Where would Buck be?”
“He was going to look for a car and an apartment today. He could be anywhere.”
“Did you call the Weekly office?”
“I talked to Alice, the secretary there, early this afternoon. He wasn't expected until
Monday, but we can try again from the car. I mean, you can. You should call him,
don't you think? Rather than me?”
Rayford suppressed a smile.


Alice sat at her desk leaning forward, her head cocked, gazing at Buck and trying
not to laugh aloud as he regaled her with whispered wisecracks. All the while he
wondered how much of the stuff from his palatial Manhattan office would fit into
the cubicle he was to share with the communal coffeepot. The phone rang, and Buck
could hear both ends of the conversation from the speakerphone. From just down
the hall came the voice of the receptionist. “Alice, is Buck Williams still back
there?”
“Right here.”
“Call for him.”
It was Rayford Steele, calling from his car. “At seven-thirty tonight?” Buck said.
“Sure, I'll be there. What's up? Hm? Well, tell her I said hi, too, and I'll see you both
at the church tonight.”
He was hanging up as Verna came to the door and frowned at him. “A problem?” he
said.
“You'll have your own phone soon enough,” she said. “Come on in.”
As soon as he was seated Verna sweetly informed him that he would no longer be
the world-traveling, cover-story-writing, star headliner of Global Weekly. “We here
in Chicago have an important but limited role in the magazine,” she said. “We
interpret national and international news from a local and regional perspective and
submit our stories to New York.”
Buck sat stiffly. “So I'm going to be assigned to the Chicago livestock markets?”
“You don't amuse me, Cameron. You never have. You will be assigned to whatever
we need covered each week. Your work will pass through a senior editor and
through me, and I will decide whether it is of enough significance and quality to
pass along to New York.”
Buck sighed. “I didn't ask the big boss what I was supposed to do with my works in
progress. I don't suppose you know.”
“Your contact with Stanton Bailey will now funnel through me as well. Is that
understood?”
“Are you asking whether I understand, or whether I agree?”
“Neither,” she said. “I'm asking whether you will comply.”
“It's unlikely,” Buck said, feeling his neck redden and his pulse surge. He didn't
want to get into a shouting match with Verna. But neither was he going to sit for
long under the thumb of someone who didn't belong in journalism, let alone in