"L. E. Modesitt - The Ecolitan Institute 01 - Ecologic Envoy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

With his right hand, the intruder launched an aerosol into the space between the tables. Simultaneously, a backhand
slash casually broke the neck of the guard on his left.

The right-hand guard grabbed for his freezer, too late, and had no second chance as he doubled with a crumpled
windpipe and a smashed kneecap.

Even before the aerosol had landed and come to a full stop, the Ecolitan had returned his full attention to the diners,
with a small dart pistol in each hand.

The toastmaster in blue was dragging a stunner from his waistband when the first dart caught him in the throat.
"Help!"

"Security!"

"Flamed greenie!"

"Get him!"

"You do!"

A black man with flaming golden hair dove from the top of the nearest table but fell short of reaching the attacker,
and was rewarded with a dart in the neck and a kick snapping his collarbone.

The shouts and sounds, ahead muffled by the private dining room's heavy insulation and rich hangings, began to
dwindle under the effects of the darts and the aerosol.

The Ecolitan calmly continued to shoot anyone trying to reach him or to escape until there were no living figures in the
room. None had escaped. Then he checked the bodies, methodically studying each face and comparing it against his
memory, and insuring that every member of the Popular Front present was indeed dead.

The sometime Ecolitian professor who bore the unlikely name of Nathaniel Whaler disliked the necessity of the
assignment but continued to move with measured and deliberate speed, touching nothing except with his gloved
hands as he turned each still form. Last, he replaced the aerosol in his tunic, concealed the dart guns in his boot
sheaths, and opened the heavy wooden door, staggering out as be closed it behind him. Weaving back and forth, he
stumbled back down the hallway and out into the main corridor from the hidden Charthouse.

Three levels down, he disappeared into a public fresher stall. In time, a blond man in a dark blue business tunic
crisply strode out.

After descending yet another level to the open square, the Ecolitan/businessman sat down beside a fountain on an
empty pseudo stone bench, apparently admiring the interplay of the golden water with the crimson spray curtains.
 In time, a young woman, low-cut blouse revealing her profession and assets, sat down next to him, thrusting her
chest at him with an artificially inviting smile. "Complete?"

"All but Zeroga," answered Whaler. "Not at the dinner. You try the firm. I'll hit his quarters."

As he spoke. Whaler let his eyes range over the woman, as if appraising what she offered. She rolled her eyes in
exasperation. Whaler shook his head vigorously, and the woman pouted publicly before standing with a flourish and
mincing her way from him and the fountain. The Ecolitan shook his head again and stood. Finally, with a last look at
the fountain, the blond man who had been sandy haired and would be again walked down the corridor to the flitter