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

her before the ransom changed hands.
"Skyhook," Peg called out. "The call has been made."
Argent logged the time on his retinal clock, advanced it two minutes, then started counting down. None of
the other ransom transfers had taken more than two minutes. At the end of that time, the hostages had
been executed, their bodies thrown out into the streets.
Merkhur straightened the Stallion again, bringing it closer to the Roadmaster. Now that the kidnapper's
vehicle had reached the part of Union Street that ran independent of the other side streets and had a higher
speed limit, it sped up.
A minute flashed by as Merkhur worked to get the helo over the Roadmaster. Out in traffic now, Argent
watched the way the vehicle moved, then noticed the two dark blue Ford Americars running blocker and
flanker for the bigger vehicle.
It wasn't a total surprise to Argent, but it did make things more complicated. He spoke over the
commlink. "They've got cars running cover for the Roadmaster, Merkhur."
"I see them. But there's no way they won't see us coming if they're alert."
 The retinal clock was down to fifty-two seconds. "Then we're going to have to do this quick."
"I know. I'm ready to start my final approach."
"Go." Argent clambered down the side of the helo until he was at the landing gear. He handled his weight
easily, maintaining holds with the cyberhands. The cyberarms more than doubled his original strength and
weren't as prone to fatigue.
The Stallion dove like a hunting hawk, curving gracefully through the area toward the Roadmaster.
Merkhur handled his craft expertly, matching the helo's speed with the cargo vehicle. Dropping into position
over the Roadmaster, he maintained a distance of less than three meters.
Virulent red tracer fire streaked through the night around Argent, pinging off the armored sides of the
Stallion. He glanced down and saw gunners from the rear car firing up at the helo.
Over the speeding Roadmaster now, Argent released his hold on the Stallion's landing gear and dropped.




2
Falling free of the helo and no longer part of its forward momentum, Argent became prey for the vicious
wind. It buffeted him for an instant, pushing him like a kite. Then he flailed, regaining control over his body
with difficulty. When both his feet missed the Roadmaster, he accessed the circuitry in his left cyberhand
and switched on the electro-magnets. He arced his body and slammed his hand against the top of the cargo
vehicle. The magnetic field created by the electricity juicing the cyberhand pulled his palm and fingers
against the metal vehicle
roof, snugging them tight. Even then, it took a moment for his fall to stop, his hand dragging toward the
edge, shrilling noisily.
Argent found purchase with his feet and hauled one of the Ingram Super 100s free of synthleather.
Bracing himself, the sound of the engine behind him suddenly racing, he brought the Ingram up and twisted
around.
The car behind the Roadmaster sped up, lurching forward. A man leaned out of the passenger window
and brought up a machine pistol. The pistol's red aiming laser flicked across Argent and the Roadmaster,
then ejected brass glinted as the bullets ripped free of the vicious muzzle. The dulled thwacks of the rounds
striking the back of the cargo vehicle rattled over the noise of the traffic.
With the smartlink operational, Argent's cybered eyes became gunsights. Cross hairs appeared in his
vision, tracking the Ingram's sweep. He caressed the trigger, expertly unleashing a three-round burst that
decapitated his attacker.
The headless corpse writhed in pain and reflex, tumbling back inside the American Blood filmed the
inside of the windshield in haphazard streaks.