"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 23 - Empire of Blood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

Blade 23: Empire of Blood

By Jeffrey Lord

Chapter 1
The salesman examined the Barclay's Bank draft with elaborate care. Richard Blade crossed one long
leg over the other and clasped both tanned hands around the raised knee as he waited.

Finally the salesman raised his head and smiled. "All in order, Mr. Blade. Now, if you'll just sign here-"
as he shoved a small stack of papers toward Blade. Blade bent forward, his chair creaking as he shifted
his two hundred and ten pounds of bone and muscle, and drew out a pen.

He had to sign his name twelve different times on eight different sheets of paper before he'd finished. It
occurred to him that if anyone ever wanted copies of his signature for purposes legitimate or otherwise,
all they'd have to do was examine the files of Hollis Brothers Automobile Sales and Services Limited,
London.

"Very good, Mr. Blade. The model you wish will run you about a hundred and seventy pounds less than
the sum of this draft. We will have the delivery driver give you a check for the balance."

Blade shook his head. "I would advise against that. You say the model I want isn't in stock at the
moment?"

The salesman shook his head. "No, sir, it isn't. I expect it will be about three weeks before we have one
in."

"That's what I thought," said Blade. "Unfortunately, I'll be leaving the country for an indefinite period
within the next couple of days. Family business in America-it seems they've got it into their heads that I'm
the Indispensable Man. I haven't the remotest notion when I'll be back. I think the wisest thing to do
would be to garage the car here until I return and apply the balance to the garage fees. Can you do that?"

"Oh, yes, by all means, sir. It will be quite easy." The salesman opened the drawer of his desk and
rummaged through it, then pulled out still another form. "If you'll just sign this, here and here-"

Finally it was all over. Blade rose, shook the salesman's hand, then buttoned up all but the top button of
his Burberry.

"Thank you, Mr. Blade," said the salesman. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, and I hope
you find driving your new car altogether agreeable. Good day, sir."

Outside it was a sunny but brisk London morning, with enough wind so that Blade promptly buttoned
the top button on his coat. Then he headed down the street toward the nearest taxi stand. As he went, he
contemplated how his profession complicated even such a simple business as buying a new car.

Richard Blade was indeed leaving England within the next couple of days, but he was not traveling to
America, on family business or for any other reason. He was traveling much farther, into a place where
only he of all living people could go, survive, and return safely to England.
That place was called Dimension X: It was sometimes hard to realize that until only a very few years ago
no one, least of all Richard Blade, had even suspected the existence of Dimension X.