"Brian Lumley - E-Branch 1 - Defilers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

"pissing") on each other, she may have inadvertently picked up what Trask was thinking. Certainly
her expression was cold where it turned aside his own burning gaze. And before Trask could
actually say anything:
"We were practicing," she blurted. And then, wryly: "Or at least we would have been, if I-"
"-She means we," Jake cut in. "If we hadn't lost it. But we have. It's gone." He shrugged,
apparently unconcerned.


file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley%20-%20E-Branch%201%20-%20Defilers.txt (13 of 263) [2/13/2004 10:10:51 PM]
 file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley%20-%20E-Branch%201%20-%20Defilers.txt

'Temporarily gone, anyway," Liz came back. "We were giving it one last try and we ... sort of lost
track of time." She bit her lip, glanced at Jake accusingly and then away from him.
Trask looked at her and read disappointment, but not with him. She hadn't "eavesdropped,"
inadvertently or otherwise. Her coolness was frustration born of her failure, or more likely of
Jake's. Then, looking at Jake . . . Trask didn't know

what he was reading. Nothing, truth be told! And if this were a game of lie dice in some bar,
Trask supposed he'd be buying the next round,- Jake's shields were that good. But if you're
tellincj the truth, why mess with shields? Or was this simply a byproduct of Harry Keogh's dart,
some sort of self-regulating or intuitive protective device? Well, that wasn't totally
unanticipated,- Trask was fairly certain that the original Necroscope had managed to dupe him once
or twice, too. But all that aside, their excuses weren't good enough. "All skills wax and wane,"
Trask rasped. "No one's talent is in top gear all the time. But there's time for practice and
there's time for briefings, updates, staying in touch, knowing what's going down. There's no use
being in tip-top shape if you don't know what's happening around you,- no point in my posting a
daily routine and calling O-groups if people like you simply ignore such obviously unimportant,
insignificant little items! So, since you've already managed to hold things up for several minutes
now, do take your time but eventually find a couple of chairs . . , and sit fucking down'"
Trask generally considered the indiscriminate use of curse words indicative of the lack of an
adequate or "decent" vocabulary,- he wasn't much given to swearing. But, however rarely, even he
was wont to slip up and curse under pressure or, like now, use bad language to signal his
exasperation or displeasure. His espers recognized that fact and knew when to back off-most of
them.
Liz's face reddened but Jake merely shrugged-by no means apologetically-and continued to look
disinterested. Then they separated,- she took a seat at the back, Jake in the front, dead centre.
Trask quite deliberately waited, his gaze tracking them to their seats. . .
Jake Cutter was thirtyish, but his looks hinted of life on the fast track and loaned him an extra
seven or eight years. As Trask had once heard the country and western singer Johnny Cash explain
it a quarter-century ago on one of his tours of England, "It isn't the years but the mileage." So
with Jake: he had certainly burned a lot of rubber, not to mention candles.
He was tall, maybe six-two, long-legged, and with long arms to match. His hair was a deep brown
like his eyes, and his face was lean, hollow-cheeked. In profile he had an altogether angular
face. He looked as if a good meal wouldn't hurt, but on the other hand the extra weight wouldn't
sit right on him,- it would only serve to slow him down. His lips were thin and even cruel, and
when he smiled you could never be sure there was any humour in it. But that could have been his
background,- he hadn't had it easy, especially the last few years.
Jake's hair was long as a lion's mane at the back,- he kept it swept back, braided into a pigtail.
His jaw, like the rest of his face, was angular, lightly scarred on the left side, and his nose
had been broken high on the bridge so that it slanted at a steep angle: hawklike, Trask thought.