"Brian Lumley - Necroscope 2 - Wamphyri!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

These were Krakovitch's thoughts as he entered what long ago had been a cobbled courtyard
- now a large area of plastic-tiled floor, partitioned into airy conservatories, small apartments and
laboratories - where E-Branch operatives had studied and practised their esoteric talents in
comparative comfort, or whatever condition or environment best suited their work. Forty-eight
hours ago the place had been immaculate; now it was a shambles, where bullet-holes patterned the
partition walls and the effects of blast and fire could be seen on every hand. It was a wonder the
place hadn't been burned to the ground, completely gutted.


In a mainly cleared area - the so-called Investigation Control Room - a table had been erected
and supported the ringing telephone. Krakovitch made his way towards it, pausing to drag aside a
large piece of utility wall which partly blocked his path. Underneath, lying half-buried in crumbled
plaster, broken glass and the crushed remains of a wooden chair, a human arm and hand lay like a
huge grey salted slug. Its flesh was shrivelled, the colour of leather, and the bone where it projected
in a knob at the shoulder was shiny white. It was almost a fossil. There'd be many more fragments
such as this yet to be discovered, scattered throughout the Château, but apart from their repulsive
looks they'd be harmless - now. Not so on the night of the horror. Krakovitch had seen portions
like this one, without heads or brains to guide them, crawling, fighting, killing!


He shuddered, moved the arm aside with his foot, went to the telephone. 'Hello, Krakovitch?'


'Who?' the unknown caller snapped back. 'Krakovitch? Are you in charge there?' It was a
female voice, very efficient.


'I suppose I am, yes,' Krakovitch answered. 'What can I do for you?'


'For me, nothing. For the Party Leader, only he can say. He's been trying to contact you for
the last five minutes!'


Krakovitch was tired. He hadn't slept since the nightmare, doubted if he'd ever sleep again. He
and the other four survivors, one of them a raving madman, had only come out of the security vault
on Sunday morning, when the air was finished. Since then the others had made their statements,
been sent home. The Château Bronnitsy was a High Security Establishment, so their stories
wouldn't be for general consumption. In fact Krakovitch - being the only genuinely coherent
member of the survivors - had demanded that the case in toto be sent direct to Leonid Brezhnev.
That was Standing Orders anyway: Brezhnev was the top man, personally and directly responsible
for E-Branch, despite the fact that he'd left all of it to Gregor Borowitz. But the branch had been
important to the Party Leader, and he'd seen everything that came out of it (or at least anything of
any importance). Also, Borowitz must have told him quite a bit about the branch's paranormal work
- literally ESPionage - so that Brezhnev should be at least part-qualified to pass judgement on what
had happened here. Or so Krakovitch hoped. In any case, it had to be better than trying to explain
it to Yuri Andropov!