"Mel Odom - Shadowrun 33 - Run Hard, Die Fast" - читать интересную книгу автора (Odom Mel)

The rigger handled the craft with smooth confidence, using some
of the buildings for cover as they swooped toward Union Street.
"Groundwire," Argent said over the commlink. "Can you paint the target?"
"I'm collating data now." As always Peg sounded cool and assured.
Argent released the catches on the door, letting the wind whip into the cockpit. Holding onto the door
with one hand, he checked his gear with the other, running his palm over the twin Smartlink Level II
outfitted Ingram Super Mach 100s riding in crossed bands over his hips. A Smartlink Level II equipped
Savalette Guardian was synthleathered in a jackass shoulder rig under his left arm as backup in case the
Ingrams didn't quite turn the trick. And he had a monofilament whip tucked away in his boot if things turned
truly fragged.
"Skyhook," Peg called, "stand by for targeting."
"Get to it." Argent activated the circuitry in his cyber-eyes and brought the thermographic utility on-line in
his right eye. Immediately, the sprawl below took on a new look as the thermographic vision picked up heat
patterns rather than conventional sight. The signals coming through both his eyes was confusing, but he was
used to going monocular when he needed to. It affected his depth perception, but mostly only at distances,
and that was why the eye was also equipped with a range-finder to compensate. He carried a lot of
cybernetics in his body, but all of it was user-friendly, top-of-the-line deltaware, some of it barely out of the
prototype stage. His contacts put him next to a lot of gear that wasn't on the market, and he spent the
money for the upgrades.
Another moment passed, then an oval pale lavender light lit up the top of a charcoal-colored Ares
Roadmaster cargo vehicle. The lavender light was the result of thermal imaging projected by a drone locked
into a pattern above the target vehicle. The drone, a stripped-down, highly illegal Lone Star Strato-9
surveillance model knock-off
engineered by black marketeers in Singapore, had been leased from an outlaw rigger for the night's op.
"Skyhook, your target has been painted," Peg declared. Operating from information she'd gathered from
the mages, she'd managed to ID the vehicle.
"Affirmative," Argent said. "Skyhook sees the paint. Merkhur?"
"Got it, got it, mate. I'm not exactly sleeping at the post, you know." The helo lost altitude rapidly,
streaking for the Roadmaster.
Unaware, the Roadmaster cruised easily through the streets, negotiating the intersections without getting
hung up. It was coming up on the Seattle Aquarium, crossing Ninth Avenue.
Argent shifted, opening the helo's door more. He stepped out into the chill wind blowing in from Elliott
Bay. Traffic whisked by less than ten meters below as the helo closed rapidly on its prey.
With the cargo door open, the wind slammed into the helo's cockpit, throwing its aerodynamics off.
Merkhur struggled with the controls, forcing the Stallion to stay on course.
"Lower," Argent ordered.
"Mate," Merkhur protested, "you're about pushing this old lady's limits."
Argent didn't have any sympathy. His thoughts were on the young woman in the speeding van, and on
her father. Corp exec though he was, and used to a daily grind of high-pressure deals and bargaining, Victor
Merlini had barely made it through the telecom interview Argent had insisted on.
The Roadmaster pulled into the right lane again. Argent marked the next intersection as Boren Avenue,
and Union Street curved back to the left, straightening out now. From what Peg had learned in the Lone
Star files, the ransom dropsite hadn't been announced to Merlini
yet. Peg had confirmed that with a call to the young woman's father.
In each of the previous cases, the kidnappers had stayed on the move with their hostage, allowing them to
have contact with a second group of kidnappers. With all the cards in their hands, the kidnappers
downloaded the ransom money through a telecom-equipped deck without having to produce the hostage.
The third kidnapping had resulted in the hostage getting chilled while on-line with her husband, and the
kidnappers had disappeared without a trace.
The only chance Shaundra Merlini had of getting out of the situation alive was if someone could get to