"Night Warriors - 01 - Night Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

'Yes, you take good care,' her grandfather echoed.

They left the house and walked down the sloping driveway in the hot mid-morning sunshine. Daffy lived ten minutes' walk away, in one of the new houses on Jimmy Durante Boulevard. Usually she borrowed her mother's Seville to drive around in, but this morning her mother had gone to her beautician in La Jolla to have her face jacked up another inch, as Daffy put it.

They had almost reached the intersection with the main road when a clear man's voice behind them said, 'Pardon me, are you Susan Sczaniecka?'

Susan and Daffy turned around. It was the man who had been sitting on the wall outside Susan's grandparents' house. He was tall - taller than Daffy had imagined - with dark wavy hair. He took off his sunglasses and both girls had to admit to themselves that he was undeniably good looking. Thin faced, brown eyed, with one of those slightly amused faces that can make you feel both excited and at ease - at least if you're a seventeen-year-old girl.

'Didn't I see you sitting on the wall?' said Daffy, in a tone that meant the man ought to establish his credentials before either she or Susan would start talking to him.

'Sure you did. I was waiting for you to come out.'

'Why didn't you call at the door?' asked Susan. She had to close one eye against the bright sunshine.

'I didn't want to disturb your grandparents, that's all. You know what they're like.'

Susan frowned. 'Sure I know what they're like. But how do you know what they're like?'

'It's my job. I'm a newspaper reporter. Here - here's my card. Paul Springer, San Diego Tribune.'

'You're really a reporter?' Daffy asked him, squinting at the card.

'Sure. Why else do you think I've been staking out your grandparents' house?' 'To rape us?' Daffy suggested.

'You don't have to sound so hopeful,' grinned Paul.

Susan handed his card back. 'Is this about what happened on the beach this morning?'

Paul gave a reserved, down-and-sideways glance. 'Kind of. That's part of it.'

'How did you know about that? The police said they were keeping it out of the media.'

Paul continued grinning and shook his head. 'If the police had their way, everything would be kept out of the media. Except successful drug-busts, of course, and police baseball-team scores.'

'I don't really have anything to say about it,' Susan told him. 'I didn't see any more than anybody else.'

'It was pretty horrifying, wasn't it?' said Paul.

Daffy butted in: 'My friend here doesn't actually want to talk about it, you know? She was very sick this morning because of what happened. So, you know, do you mind?We're on our way home, and we'd just like to get on with it.'

But Susan said, 'Come on, Daffy, it's okay. He's not bothering me.'

'May I walk along?' asked Paul.

They continued northwards along Camino Del Mar, between the rustling yuccas, waving occasionally to kids they knew who were hanging out beside the bars and hotels and stores along the strip. One group was gathered around a VW Beetle which had just been resprayed in ruby metallic flake and decorated with airbrushed pictures of surfers and Western heroes. There was a strong smell of marijuana in the air, mingled with pina-colada suntan lotion.

Paul seemed incredibly straight, and yet Susan felt that there was something strange about him, something almost unreal. When he spoke, she felt that she could anticipate everything that he was going to say, and in a peculiar way she felt that she had met him before, although she wasn't sure when. It didn't seem to be necessary to get to know him. They talked from the very beginning as if they were long-time acquaintances.

'I've been assigned by the Tribune to write a series of feature articles on young people' said Paul. 'Each of the articles is supposed to cover a different aspect of the way that young people think and react. I guess you might call it a kind of psychoanalysis of youth. Well, it sounds pretty corny stuff, but I think that if it's written and researched properly, it doesn't have to be. In fact, I think it could be really enlightening.'