"Chris Lawson - Matthew 24-36" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawson Chris)

Matthew 24:36
Chris Lawson

You're listening to Radio Y2K, serving the Valley this millennial eve.
We'll be taking you through all 25 hours of the Big Change.
Erwin Humboldt furrowed his brow, thinking. How could it be 25 hours? He
was about to stop the engine on his ute but left the motor running and the
radio on, waiting to hear the explanation.
That's right, folks, 25 hours. You see, some of us countries in the
Southern Hemisphere are on daylight savings, which means the first time
zone to hit midnight will be an hour early.
Humboldt laughed. He might have figured it out if they had given him a
few minutes, but he doubted it.
Coming up, we'll go through the list of New Year's Eve celebrations in
the district. We'll give you all the details of the Mayor's Ball in Wang,
and lots of other public gatherings. Just remember that this is no
ordinary New Year and to be back home with enough time to lock all your
doors and do those last little security checks.
He switched off the ute and the radio went dead. Humboldt muttered a few
oaths under his breath. Nobody with half a brain would be out at a public
celebration this year. There were always the drunken louts from Melbourne
- never as bad as the crowd at Lorne, but still a bunch of yahoos - but
this year it would all turn nasty. It was a matter of getting out before
the fireworks started.
He had not been able to convince the children. They insisted on going out
for New Year's Eve, even though Hanna was only sixteen and Billy fourteen.
Irene, being sentimental as usual, had taken their side.
"Nothing's gonna happen 'til midnight," Irene had said. "We'll be back
before then."
What could he do? It wasn't like he could hold them at gunpoint. At least
he had wrangled a promise out of them that they would go to the party at
the town hall. There were always a couple of cops there, and one or two
off-duty in the Shepherd's Crook up the road, and it was a dry party. The
punch would be fruit juice and ginger ale.
Humboldt grumbled about his lack of authority and threw in a curse at the
baking sun as he heaved the cattle feed off the back of the ute. He had
considered running sheep. It would have been a nice touch being a
shepherd, but somehow modern farming practices, especially herding sheep
by motorbike, lacked that Biblical sentiment. And it was good cattle
country.


22:00 hr Auckland
In the Valley it was almost always hot on New Year's Eve.
The doors and windows were thrown open at the Town Hall and the fans were
spinning fast enough to launch a Cessna, but the heat still plastered
shirts to the skin of everyone in the hall.
The young Humboldts slinked off to their teenage cliques as soon as they
hit the doors. Irene scanned the crowd, but she only recognised a few of
the faces. Detective Erikson was there. He waved. Erwin had helped him out