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

“You will be free to go when we say you are free to go.”
The same woman. Leah pictured her older, matronly, and clearly Asian. She raised
her palms in surrender and plopped into a chair. She started and looked up when she
heard a buzz in the door latch. “You may go.”
Leah shot a double take at the mirror. “I may?”
“She who hesitates ...”
“Oh, I'm going,” she said, rising. “Could I at least see you on my way out? Please? I
just want to know—”
“You're trying my patience, Mrs. Clendenon. You have received all the information
you will get here.”
Leah stopped with her hand on the doorknob, shaking her head, hoping to weasel
something from the disembodied voice.
“Go, ma'am!” the woman said. “While you have the option.”
Leah had given her best. She wasn't willing to go to prison for this caper. For
another effort, maybe, another assignment. She would sacrifice her freedom for Dr.
Ben-Judah. But for Hattie? Hattie's own doctor had died treating her, and she
seemed barely grateful.
Leah moved briskly through the echoing corridors. She heard a door behind her and,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman, turned quickly. A small, trim, pale, dark-
haired woman in uniform turned and headed the other way. Could that have been
her? Leah headed for the main entrance but turned at the last instant and stepped
behind a bank of phones. At least it looked like a bank of phones. She wanted to
pretend to be talking on one while anyone who might follow her rushed out the
door, but every phone was in shambles, wires hanging.
She was about to abandon her plan when she heard quick footsteps and saw a young
Asian woman hurry out the front door, car keys jangling. Leah was convinced this
was the same woman who had ducked away when she turned around. Now Leah
was following her.
She hesitated inside the glass doors, watching as the woman trotted to the visitor
parking lot and scanned the area. Apparently frustrated, she turned and walked
slowly back toward the entrance. Leah nonchalantly exited, hoping to get a straight-
on look at the woman. If she could get her to speak, she would know whether she
had been the one behind the glass.
An employee of the GC and she's worse at this than I am, Leah thought, as the
woman noticed her, appeared startled, then fought to act normal. As they neared one
another, Leah asked where a washroom was, but the woman tugged her tiny
uniform cap tighter onto her head and turned away to cough as she passed, not
hearing or pretending not to.
Leah pulled out of the unattended lot and waited at a stop sign a quarter mile away,
where she could see the prison entrance in her rearview mirror. The woman hurried
out and hopped into a compact four-door. Determined to lose her, Leah raced off
and got lost trying to find her hotel via side streets.
She called Rayford again and again. No way this could wait until Friday. When he
didn't answer she worried that his phone might have fallen into the wrong hands.
She left a cryptic message: "Our bird has flown the cage. Now what?”
She drove into the country, convinced no one was following her, and found her way
back to the hotel at dusk.
She had been in her room less than half an hour when the phone rang.
“This is Donna,” she said.
“You have a visitor,” the clerk said. “May I send her back?”