"Michael Scott Rohan - Chase the Morning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rohan Michael Scott)

trying to pull anything I personally will make him shove every one of those
roots -sideways! But there's not much time, and the far side's a couple of
miles away; a boat'd be fastest - if we can find one at this hour -'
'Look, Jyp,' I suggested, rather diffidently, 'My car's not far away - I
think -'
His face lit up. 'Your carl Wow, great! Let's go! Let's go!' He bounced
up again, excited as a schoolboy; hastily I downed my beer - a shame, it was
excellent - and followed. In my confusion I hadn't noted the street where I'd
parked, or even the name of the dingy pub, but Jyp recognized the description
and led me back there by what seemed a much shorter route. As we passed the
pub he stuck his head round the door, to be greeted by a cheerful roar, and
shouted his thanks; and from there I had no trouble finding my way.
As we emerged from the alley I was surprised; darkness had fallen in earnest
now, with a touch of moist haze in the air, and it had transformed the place.
New paint and trendy trimmings were swallowed up in a gloom the glaring pools
of the streetlights only deepened. The strings of bright globes and glowing
signs seemed to hang suspended in space before the solid untouchable shadows
that were the buildings; their rooftops, ornamented with gable and turret,
were timeless silhouettes against the lambent sky. For a moment I wondered if
the car would still be there.
It was, though. When we got to it Jyp circled it, fascinated, unable to
keep his hands off the smooth paintwork; and when I unlocked the door for him
he got in awkwardly. 'Ain't never been in one of these fancy closed-in autos
before,' he confessed with an abashed grin, and was fascinated by the sun
roof. He seemed equally impressed when I turned the starter, but as I
accelerated smoothly away across the cobbles I heard him suck in his breath
sharply, and when I reached thirty I glanced across and saw him rigid and
staring in his seat, his feet braced against the well. A little cruelly, I
took it up to forty as I turned into Danube Street, but it had the opposite
effect; once he realized we weren't flying out of control, he kicked and
whooped 'Hey, can you get any more out of her?'
'Fifty-five suit you?'
He bounced on his seat as I accelerated, and yelled 'Twenty-three
skidoo-ooo-ooo/ Faster - hey, what're you slowin' down for?'
"There's that junction you mentioned - and such things as speed limits in
this town! And traffic lights!' Though look what stopping for one of those got
me into ...
'So where do we go from here, pilot?'
Jyp had slumped down in his seat, sulking, but he sat up quickly to gaze
around like an excited child at the bright lights and garish shop windows of
Harbour Walk. It had been a while, he claimed, since he'd been this way. Just
how long, was something I should have been wondering about - but oddly enough
it didn't occur to me to ask, just then. Fortunately the geography didn't seem
to have changed, he picked an unlikely-looking turn-off, and gave me clear
directions down a whirl of side roads. Once off the main road I took a corner
or two too fast, just to cheer him up.
At last, tyres screeching, we turned into a much wider street, a smoothly
curving terrace of stone buildings with tall half-columned frontages. These
were no business buildings; they must once have been the town mansions of
merchants, within easy reach of their wharves and counting-houses. They must