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

Susan looked towards the ocean, glittering between the buildings on the opposite side of the road like smashed diamonds. 'I don't know,' she said.

'Well, don't you care! I think it's scary.'

'No,' said Susan, and in her own mind she was quite sure of this. 'It's not scary. But something's going to happen. Something's going to change. I can feel it.'

'Brother!' said Daffy, shaking her head. 'The lightning bolt of true love has struck you straight in the brain.'

'No,' Susan emphatically. 'It's more important than love.'



















CHAPTER THREE





Gil swerved his Mustang into the parking-lot across the street from his father's Mini-Market, gunned the engine, and then switched it off. He sat where he was for a moment or two, thinking, and then he hopped out of the driver's seat, and crossed over Highway 101, jingling his car-keys in his hand.

The Mini-Market was a single-fronted store, wedged between the Mandarin Coast Chinese restaurant and Freddy's Instant Print Service. It was the kind of store that sold absolutely everything from ice-cream to cans of Chef Boy-ar-dee Spaghetti Bolognese to shoe-laces to golfing hats to Jewish get-well cards. It had a wonderful aroma to it; an aroma of feta cheese and Hungarian salami and penny candy and Superman comics. Gil's father was a qualified engineer, and could have brought in four times as much money designing braking systems for hospital trolleys and hydraulic controls for locomotives, but he had dreamed about owning a store like the Mini-Market ever since he was a kid, and he wouldn't have lived out his life any other way.

Gil's mother used to say that he must have had a deprived childhood, to want to run a general store, but she knew how happy he was, and that made her happy, too. She stocked the shelves and kept the store clean and even made quiches for the deli counter. Along the strip, Gil's father and mother were known as the 'M&Ms' - Mr and Mrs. Miller.

Gil's father was standing behind the checkout, packing a week's groceries for old Mrs. Van Buren who lived on the other side of the Santa Fe Railroad tracks. He was tall and big boned, like Gil, with wiry grey hair and one of those husky-looking outdoor faces like Lloyd Bridges. He wore a striped blue storekeeper's apron with his name sewn on to the pocket, Phil.

'Hi, Dad,' said Gil.

'How're you doing?' his father asked him. 'You're back early.'

'I didn't feel like swimming, that's all.'

'They closed off the beach, somebody told me,' said Phil Miller. 'Did you want the barbecue-flavoured beans, Mrs. Van Buren, or the vegetarian?'