"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 7 - The Indwelling" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

So, he would not have to sacrifice himself and Abdullah to be sure Carpathia was
dead. From the commotion down front and from his view of the platform via jumbo
screens nearby, it was clear to Mac that Nicolae had suffered the massive head
wound believers knew was coming.
Ever the professional, Mac knew what would be expected of him. He slid his cell
phone from his jacket and dialed the Tel Aviv tower. “You got a jockey certified to
shuttle the 216 to Jerusalem?”
“Already looking, sir. This is a tragedy.”
“Yeah.”
Mac dialed Abdullah. From the limited noise in the background, he could tell his
first officer was not at the Gala. “You hear, Ab?”
“I heard. Shall I go get the Phoenix?”
“Hang loose; they're trying to get it here. I saw you leave the hotel. Where are
you?”
“Doctor Pita's. I suppose I'll look suspicious finishing my meal when the big boss is
dying and everyone else has run into the streets looking for a TV.”
“Stick it in your pocket, and if you don't hear from me, meet me at Jerusalem
Airport in an hour.”
Mac made his way to the front of the plaza as the place emptied in a frenzy. He
flashed his ID when necessary, and by the time he reached the platform, it was clear
Carpathia was in the final throes of life. His wrists were drawn up under his chin,
eyes shut tight and bleeding, blood trickling also from his ears and mouth, and his
legs shook violently, toes pointed, knees locked.
“Oh, he's gone! He's gone!” Leon wailed. “Someone do something.”
The four emergency medical technicians, portable monitors beeping, knelt over
Carpathia. They cleared his mouth so they could administer oxygen, studied a blood
pressure gauge, pumped his chest, cradled his head, and tried to stanch the flow
from a wound that left them kneeling in more blood than it seemed a body could
hold.
Mac peeked past the panicky Fortunate to see Carpathia's normally tanned hands
and face already pale. No one could survive this, and Mac wondered if the bodily
movements were merely posthumous reflexes.
“There is a hospital nearby, Commander,” one of the EMTs said, which threw
Fortunato into a rage. He had just made eye contact with Mac and seemed about to
say something when he turned on the EMT.
“Are you crazy? These-these people are not qualified! We must get him to New
Babylon.”
He turned to Mac. “Is the 216 ready?”
“On its way from Tel Aviv. Should be able to lift off in an hour.”
“An hour?! Should we helicopter him straight to Tel Aviv?”
“Jerusalem Airport will be faster,” Mac said.
“There's no room to stabilize him in a chopper, sir,” the EMT said.
“We have no choice!” Fortunato said. “An ambulance would be too slow.”
“But an ambulance has equipment that might—”
“Just get him into the chopper!” Fortunato said.
But as the EMT turned away looking disgusted, a female colleague looked up at
him. Carpathia was still.
“No vitals,” she said. “He's flat lined.” “No!” Leon bellowed, bullying his way
between them and kneeling in Nicolae's blood. Again he leaned over the body, but
rather than holding Carpathia to him, he buried his face in the lifeless chest and