"Dean Wesley Smith - Men in Black 2 - The Grazer Conspiracy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Dean Wesley)

The swirling lights filled the door, so he couldn’t see anything through it. But
there had to be an inside to that oval.
Anthony knew he should turn and head down the mountain as fast as he could go,
but fear wasn’t something that usually moved him. At least not while he was
standing on a pair of skis. No jump was too big, no run too steep for him. He
attacked them all head-on.
So now, at the top of this chair lift, he wasn’t about to suddenly ski away in
fright, even if he didn’t know what had just come out of the night sky to hover
near him.
He swallowed the shadow of fear, just as he did when faced with a large jump and
stood and watched the swirling lights and weird door, coldly, as if studying how
to attack a steep slope.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a few seconds, a man
stepped through the door and onto the snow, sinking slightly. He wore coveralls
and tennis shoes. He had dark hair covered with a golf cap. Even in the faint
light, Anthony could make out the words BANDAN DUNES across the front.
The sudden appearance of the man made Anthony back up, shoving himself away from
the door with his poles. He didn’t know exactly what he had expected to emerge
from that strange ship, but it wasn’t a regular-looking man in coveralls and a
golf cap.
“Glad I caught ya, Anthony,” the man said in a southern accent. Then he looked
around. “Man, it is cold up here on this here mountain.”
Now Anthony really wanted to bolt for the lodge and escape from this impossibly
normal man, but again he didn’t move. Instead he said, “Who are you? How’d you
get here? How do you know me?”
The guy shrugged. “None of that matters much at this point,” he said. He reached
into his pocket, then held something up so Anthony could see it.
It looked like a gas credit card, only larger.
As Anthony was trying to figure out just what it was the guy was showing him,
the man put something over his eyes with his other hand.
“Nice havin‘ ya with us, Anthony.”
“What?” Anthony asked. “With you? I’m not—”
There was a bright flash.
From that moment on Anthony had no memory of that last run of night skiing. He
remembered having gone skiing that night, but not the last run.
In the lodge he put his skis in his locker and headed into town without even
saying good night to anyone in the kitchen.
On the way down the mountain he didn’t notice that the only car he passed was a
black sedan, speeding up toward the lodge.
The next morning he didn’t go back up the hill to work. Instead he called his
boss and quit.
Then he walked into an army recruiting office in downtown Portland and signed up
to go to Vietnam.
He did two tours in Vietnam and thirty years later was a two-star general.
He never skied again.
Or had any desire to.
Chapter 1
1:38 P.M. May 6, 2001 New York City, New York
There’s nothing like a warm, sunny day in early May in New York City. It brings
out the people like bees to sweet-smelling flowers. Hordes of people. The