"Linda Nagata - Hooks, Nets & Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nagata Linda)

"I work for Ryan too."

"Sounds like you owe him."

"I'm not his slave. I'm not going back."

Zayder nodded slowly. Hell, if he had any choice, he'd run too. "So what happened on that ship?"

The fire seemed to go out of Commarin. He lay back against the pillow. "I stowed away on one of
Ryan's ships. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. But I didn't do my research first. It seems the
captain has had an ongoing problem with stowaways trying to reach the Americas. He didn't appreciate
my presence."
"Neither do I. But why didn't you just tell him you were a corporate brat on Ryan's A list?"

"Don't you think I tried? He didn't believe me."

By the time Zayder got Commarin fed and asleep, the morning was almost gone. He dismissed any
thought of doing the scheduled maintenance on the garbage trawlers, and instead got his harpoon. It was
time to go after Tiburon.

The harpoon's darts were armed with a neurotoxin that would stimulate the shark to bask at the surface
in a state of slowly-moving somnolence in which it could be roped and winched to the recovery channels
for surgery.

Zayder walked up and down the deck, squinting against the glare on the water as he tried to identify
Tiburon amongst the many shadows that swam slowly through the mid-levels of the pen. He hoped to
take Tiburon without entering the water. He let his feet pound a rhythm on the deck for half an hour, but
the great white never surfaced. Giving up, he went to the shed and pulled out his diving gear.

He didn't go into the water often, but sometimes it was necessary. It wasn't so dangerous. There were
only two or three really aggressive sharks, and he could hold them off with the harpoon.

He was coupling the respirator to the tank when Commarin emerged from the cabin, dressed in a set of
Zayder's company shorts and t-shirt, the clothing oversized on his smaller frame. He looked drained, but
sound.

He watched Zayder for a moment, but his restless gaze didn't linger. It scanned the sky, the ocean, the
surface waters of the pen. "You haven't said what you're going to do about me."

Zayder grunted. He hadn't decided.

"You found the transponder?" Commarin asked.

Zayder scowled. "Was that your sissy stick? To call Mr. Ryan when you'd had enough salt water and
decided to be a good boy?"

Commarin smiled tightly. "I'm not alone," he said. "I have friends in Brazil. They're waiting for my signal to
pick me up."