"Andre Norton - Time Traders 7 - Atlantis Endgame" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Ross nodded. “Yeah. They renew our yearly lease when it comes up. They cover the
utilities. And they pay the cleaning service that comes through here once a week. Those
guys dust and even water the plants.” Ross gave the leaves of a spider plant a flick. “So,
yeah. They hassle the details, but that’s only when we’re gone.”
Ashe, amused, said, “I confess I don’t see the difference. Plus you’ve got the added
annoyance of a nosy landlady.”
“But she’s not our boss. Maybe it’s the street kid in me, but I get itchy at the thought
of living under the boss’s roof, however benevolent.” Ross shrugged, looking sardonic.
“Makes no sense, does it?”
“Contrary,” Ashe replied. To him, it didn’t seem all that long ago when he was assigned
the nervy, distrustful troublemaker Ross Murdock, straight from juvenile court. Ross had
become one of the best agents in the ultrasecret Project Star in spite—or maybe
because—of his readiness to apply action first, and palaver afterward, to unexpected
problems.
Ashe dropped down onto one of the chairs, giving Ross a skewed smile. Did the
landlady also see the signs of the street kid in him?

ROSS BROUGHT OUT a couple of mugs of coffee, giving his old partner an appraising
glance. Why was Ashe so silent, staring through the coffee as if he were trying to scry his
future in it? Gordon Ashe was a tough, lean man around middle age, sun browned and fit.
His blue-eyed gaze was direct and intelligent, his dark hair worn short. His plain brown
suit conveyed a semblance of bland city-civilization, but he looked and moved like
someone who preferred being out of doors.
To break the lengthening silence, Ross said, “The landlady doesn’t seem to believe I’m
a computer software salesman.”
Ashe blinked and looked up. “I take it you don’t think I played a convincing buyer?” he
asked, the corners of his mouth deepening.
“Well, neither of us looks much like the TV version of your standard computer geek. In
any case, Mrs. Withan thinks I’m a no-account. It’s Eveleen she keeps pestering. A ‘real
lady karate expert’!” His voice went squeaky on the last words, and he clasped his hands
and looked skyward. “We can all sleep well of nights, knowing we have a real lady karate
expert in the building!”
Ashe laughed, but it was a quick, absent laugh, and Ross sat down on the couch. Yep,
something was wrong. Instinct had become conviction. “Well, you didn’t come over to
shoot the breeze. What’s going on?”
Gordon Ashe hesitated, one hand absently touching his breast pocket, where Ross saw
the edge of a folded piece of paper. Then Ashe shook his head. “I take it Eveleen is
teaching a karate class?”
Ross nodded. “She likes to keep in shape, and it gives her a perfect cover job.” He
glanced at his watch. “She’ll be back in a couple hours.”
Ashe struck his hands on his knees and got to his feet again. “You asked what’s wrong.
There are so many possible levels of wrongness here I don’t really know where to begin.”
Ross whistled under his breath. I knew it. Their last mission—to another planet and
thousands of years into its past—had been tough enough, but when Ashe first told them
about it he’d been business-as-usual. What could be nasty enough to get the guy—old Ice
Veins, some of the younger Time Agents had nicknamed him—this jittery?
“I have a meeting in an hour,” Ashe said. “I’d hoped to find both of you here for a
strategy powwow first, but maybe it’s for the best, because there would be more
questions than I could answer.”
“All sufficiently mysterious,” Ross said, now feeling that inward sense of tension ignite.