"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0108 - (100) Desert of Deaths Domain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Ron acted with lightning speed. He grabbed Gerard's lapels and jerked him off his seat at the table. "You stay close behind me!" he commanded.
Gerard nodded his head mechanically. His eyes were still glued to the spot where the man with the dead mm's skull had been standing tho he was now hidden from sight by the curious and frightened crowd around his table.
Ron pushed aside the people in his path. "Let me thru," he announced. "I'm a physician!"
Out of the corner of his eyes Ron saw that Gerard followed behind him obediently. The people stepped aside to make room for him.
Nobody asked to see an identification. They were all strangers who had by coincidence been present in this eating place when one of the guests became ill. It did not occur to them to question anybody who declared himself to be a doctor.
Ron worked his way straight to the table where the skull-headed man was still swaying, trying to keep his balance. The sick man did not seem to notice him. He was a Terran, no doubt about that. Ron seized him by his arm. "Come along with me, I'm a doctor," he urged him in English. "I'll help you."
The sick man turned his head slightly in Ron's direction. "Help me ...?" he gasped.
"Yes, help you," confirmed Ron. "Can you walk or shall we carry you?"
In answer to Ron's question the man let go of the table's edge and took a step forward. Although he leaned heavily on Ron's arm for support, he managed to remain on his feet. The people around them fell back as the sick man began to shuffle unsteadily, half carried, half pushed by Ron.
With a quick glance Ron made sure Gerard was still by his side. He uttered a silent prayer that Gerard would not do anything foolish now.
But everything seemed to go fine. Slowly but surely the three of them approached the restaurant's exit, while the crowd of curious onlookers gradually returned to their tables to finish their meal.
Finally they were standing on the sidewalk. Ron looked for a taxi but there was none in sight. This surprised him. He became aware of the total absence of any pedestrians on this side of the street.
At this instant Gerard gave out a halfway stilled shout of alarm. Ron intuitively felt, tho he could not actually see anything, that Gerard was about to take to his heels. He quickly seized Gerard by his sleeve. "You stay here with me!" he snarled.
He had hardly finished when a harsh voice behind him ordered: "Hand this man over to me!"
Ron spun around. Behind him a man in uniform had emerged from a dimly-lit place near the entrance. Ron recognized the uniform of the Lepso' police force.
"Why?" Ron objected. "This man is sick. He needs a doctor and not a policeman."
The man in uniform grinned sarcastically. "Are you a physician?" he asked in English with a terrible accent.
Ron thought it best not to repeat his lie. "No," he admitted. "But I want to take him to one."
"We are far better equipped to do that," asserted the man in uniform. "Just look here!" He pointed with his finger up into the air.
Ron didn't bother to look up; he could hear what was coming. A heavy gyrocar descended from the air and landed on the road, which had been cleared of all traffic. Several other policemen had suddenly joined the first one and they formed a circle around Ron and his 2 companions.
They've closed off the street, he thought. Five more policemen jumped out of the gyrocar. Ron knew then the odds were against him. This infuriated him and, worse still, he had to hide his feelings.
"You're right," he replied to the first policeman. "You're better equipped for that. Take him to get medical help!"
The policeman took the sick man by the arm and led him to the gyrocar. Ron stood and watched until the doors had closed behind them. Quickly the flood of cars again filled the part of the street that had been cordoned off. The gyrocar leapt into the evening sky, past the many bright neon signs, and disappeared beyond the colourful ocean of brightness.
Ron realized that he was still holding tightly onto Gerard's jacket sleeve. With his free arm he hailed a taxi, which came slowly rolling along the side of the street. The car stopped and the door to the passenger compartment opened. Ron pushed Gerard inside and quickly followed into the dark interior of the cab. The door closed automatically behind him.
The driver sat motionless behind the steering wheel, a dark silhouette, hardly recognizable in the very faint light.
"Did you notice the police gyro that took off just now from the road here?" Ron asked.
The driver silently nodded his head.
"Follow it, you won't regret it; I'll pay you well."
The dark head turned around and leaned toward the back of the car. "Anything for you, Mr. Earthman," said the driver.
For a fraction of a second the man's face was illuminated by the light of a neon sign nearby. It was the face of the man from Goszul's planet, the same chauffeur who had driven Ron Landry from the spaceport into town.







5/ ROOM OF IRREALITY

Ron tried to hide his surprise. "You are everywhere, aren't you?" he asked sarcastically.
The driver had started his taxiplane and lifted off into the air.
"Wherever I'm needed," he admitted in a modest tone. "At least most of the time."
They stopped their conversation. The chauffeur was busily concentrating on lifting his cab above the flow of traffic flying in the airlane over the road. The traffic was very heavy up to a height of 10 meters. Higher there was no more congestion, since one needed a special license from the Lepso police to go up that far-and the Lepso police department was not keen on giving out such permits.
Now the vehicle rose swiftly, passed through a gap between the office high rises, then turned into a northwesterly direction.
"Do you know which way the police gyro was flying?" asked Ron.
"Sure I do," answered the driver. "It's not the firstime I've seen incidents like you just saw. The police always fly in the same direction."
Ron looked throughthe window. It was dark up here. The glowing haze of the big city lay like a half-dome over the countryside. He could make out a few stars-but not a trace of the police gyro.
"How do you manage to see that gyro? Are you following it by sight?" Ron inquired.
The chauffeur gave a chuckle of amusement, "By the sylvan gods of my forefathers: no! Out here you can't see your hand in front of your eyes." He leaned forward and tapped his finger on an instrument at the dashboard. "I have a license for altitude flying so I have to have a radar in my car."
Ron bent forward and saw the radar screen with a confusion of yellow, light-green and turquoise-coloured dots.