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

Cuffee ... most pleasant and helpful fellow-tradesman ...' Jyp propelled him
gently out into the street. 'So large a purchase ... the advantages of buying
in, ah, bulk, if I may venture upon the vulgar phrase ... His initiative
entirely -'
'Was it now?' enquired Jyp, with gentle menace. 'High time we had a word
with such an enterprising guy. Now which door might his be?'
It was the furniture shop. I jabbed the plastic bell-push labelled
Cuffee, heard the harsh shrilling echo through the place, but nothing stirred.
Again, and there was nothing, and no light in the upstairs windows. Again, and
the old man blinked. 'How unusual! He is most often at home at this time. And
his truck is not in its customary place. Perhaps he is clearing a house
somewhere -'
'Perhaps,' I said. I looked at Jyp. 'Unless he's running that little
errand right now -'
Jyp whirled. "The warehouse - c'mon!' He loped off down the street, dragging
the protesting shopkeeper stumbling after him, green apron flapping in the
heavy air. 'But captain - my shop - it's not locked up -'
'It won't blow away! Steve, this time can you really hit the gas?'
'If you're sure it's that im-'
'I'm sure. I'm goddam sure! Though I'd just love to be wrong.'
'Well...' I swallowed. 'I can try.'
The tyres screeched on the cobbles as we swung around the corner, and
Frederick, tumbled headlong in the back, added a note of his own.
'Stop!' barked Jyp, crouched pale and drawn beside me. I stamped hard on
the pedal, and he braced himself stiff-armed against the dashboard; he'd had
speed enough to last him awhile. The back end almost broke away, fish-tailed
madly for a moment before I brought her to a snaking, slithering sideways
stop. I flicked off the ignition and slumped over the wheel, fighting off the
manic laughter of relief. To think I'd ever baulked at a red light...
'We're here!' said Jyp.
Following his gaze, I saw the same dim street, all quiet, all mundane,
the same pile of scaffolding, the pale light over the warehouse door, quay and
ocean beyond hidden in the shadow of emptiness; not a soul in sight. But Jyp
snapped his fingers and pointed; from the shadows beyond us my headlights
awoke twin answering glitters, and gleamed faintly on the dark bulk of a
furniture van. Then the sea-breeze sighed a little, and the dark line dividing
the warehouse doors seemed to deepen for an instant.
Jyp fought the doorhandle, then he was out and running. I tumbled out more
awkwardly and sprinted after him. I caught him up as he reached the doors;
they were ajar, creaking slightly in the breeze. There was no other sound, and
still nobody in sight. Cautiously Jyp pushed the door back. Inside it was
blackness, tinged with a thousand peculiar odours. Nothing moved, and I
stepped after him, saw his silhouette in the faint light from outside cast
around this way and that - then trip over what looked like a sack on the floor
just inside the door, grunt and stoop down to it, turn it over. Emptiness
gaped up at us, a ghastly mockery of my own surprise, all wide eyes and
sagging jaw. I didn't know the man; and never would, now.
'Remendado,' whispered Jyp hoarsely. 'The day man - I should have
relieved him about ten minutes back -'
I stumbled back, sickened, deadly afraid, and something clattered