"Spencer,.Wen.-.Ukiah.3.-.Bitter.Waters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spencer Wen)

The next message was from the airport, stating that they found the lost luggage after Max and Ukiah left, and would be forwarding them to the agency in the morning.
"That reminds me …" Max took out his PDA and jotted a note. "We need to order new body armor to replace the stuff that got shot up in Oregon, get it express-shipped."
The last message was from Samuel Anne Killington, the female private investigator they had worked with in Pendleton. They had hired her to drive Kraynak's Volkswagen van back from Oregon. Max had given her a wireless phone in case of emergencies.
"Hey there, it's me." Sam's voice was rough with exhaustion. Max had kissed her good-bye that morning at the Pendleton Airport. As their small airplane climbed and turned toward Portland, Ukiah saw her pulling out of the parking lot in Kraynak's van, starting her trip to Pittsburgh. When she arrived in a few days, Max planned on talking her into joining the agency.
"I made Cheyenne, Wyyyyyyoming." She drawled the state's name out and gave a tired laugh. "I probably could have put in another hour or two driving, but that would put me in the middle of nowhere." A pause, as if she hoped they'd pick up. "I thought you'd be in by now. Well, I'm calling it a night and getting up at some obscene hour tomorrow. I'll call you in the morning."
She hung up, and the machine voice added, "Sunday, nine-thirty p.m. End of messages." Since Sam left Pendleton before six a.m., she'd driven over fifteen hours of the forty-hour trip.
"We just missed her," Max said, tapping the caller ID button. "I don't recognize the area code on the hang-ups. Do you remember the phone numbers on the business card Ari had from the federal agent?"
Ukiah closed his eyes to sort back to that memory, the small rectangle of white in the cone of light from Max's flashlight, the cold fingers of rain running down his back. "Office or cell?"
"202-555-3524?" Max read a number from the answering machine's caller ID.
"Cell phone," Ukiah identified the number.
"Damn." Max sighed.
Which meant Hutchinson had called them. "Did he leave any message?"
"Nope, just hung up when we didn't pick up." Max held up a hand to warn off any more questions. He dug a small electronic tool made to detect listening devices out of his desk and flipped it on.
Ukiah waited, his stomach clenching into a knot. They had been leery of any government interest in Ukiah since the paramilitary biker gang known as the Pack kidnapped him in June. The Pack revealed the truth of his half-alien parentage, their own alien origins, and the fact that they were locked in a secret war against their genetic brethren, the Ontongard. In movies, the government always tried to capture the alien to "study" him.
Max walked the tool about his offices before indicating Ukiah could speak again. "Whatever Homeland Security wants, they haven't gotten around to bugging my office while we were gone."
"Do you think they really would?"
"I don't know, kid." Max put the tool away. "After the last two weeks, I'm seriously jumpy. I'm probably just being overly paranoid."
"What do you think the deal with the photos is about?"
"The mind boggles." Max flicked on his computer. "I'm going to see what I can dig up on this Hutchinson; I want to know whom we're dealing with. Go home to your moms."
"I can help." He didn't want to be sent away like a little boy.
Max shooed him off. "Go say good night to Kittanning. I'm sure he missed you."
Only for Kittanning's sake, Ukiah went home.


CHAPTER TWO

Evans City, Pennsylvania
Sunday, September 12, 2004

Mom Jo's wolf dogs were in full chorus as he made the last turn into his moms' driveway. The storm had rained itself out, and the night skies were clearing. Ukiah had the Hummer's windows down, letting in the chilly autumn air. He was home, and enjoying the familiar scents. The rain had dampened the cut fields of hay and corn. The road shone slick black in his headlights, the leaves drifting down in whirls of brilliant gold and crimson to vanish into the darkness beyond the twin pools of light.
Had the wolf dogs heard and recognized the Hummer's engines? It was unlikely—he rarely drove the big sports vehicle. Still he liked to imagine that they were singing him home. He went slow, savoring the small changes he noticed on the way. Mom Lara had pumpkins and cornstalks out already at the end of the drive by the mailbox. Yellow mums were planted at the bottom of the hill. When he topped the hill, his headlights cut through the kennel, and the wolf dogs showed as dark forms and glowing eyes, eight pairs in all.
As he stepped out of the Hummer, a dark form detached itself from the shadows and moved toward him. The wind changed, bringing him the scent of his Mom Jo just before she called to him. She smelled of herself, wolves, and an exotic blend of animals she worked with at the zoo.
"Did you find the little boy?" She was still just a shadow with a familiar voice.
"Yes." The gravel crunched under his feet as he moved to join his adopted mother in the darkness. She reached out a hand and touched his arm, and used it to guide herself to him.
She hugged him fiercely, typical of the rough affection with which she raised him. "Good boy." Mom Jo was a lean, dark-haired woman, a shade under average height. When she first trapped him in a humane wolf trap years earlier, he tucked under her chin. He had grown in odd fits and starts over the years, and she now had to cant her head back to look up into his eyes. "You've grown again. It must have been a rough trip." She meant the trip to Oregon, and it had been. "I wish Max wouldn't drag you into these things. One of these times—maybe we should find you something else to do."
"Mom!"
"You're good with animals. We could expand the kennels and board pets. It would give you lots of time with Kittanning, and you could even go to school, maybe get a degree."
"I like my work. I'm good at it."
"It got you killed in June." She hugged him tight. "And it got you killed again in Oregon. One of these times you're not going to come back to us."
"I'll always come back." He was glad now that he didn't mention the flooding storm drain. "Look, I'm tired. It's been a long day."
"I'm glad you're home in one piece, this time." Then, as if speaking of pieces, she said, "Kittanning has missed you horribly. He's been trying to talk; it sounds like 'Dada.' He says it over and over again, as if he's calling for you."
"Is he still awake?" He mentally reached for Kittanning. "Ah, no." He found only warm cottony thoughts. "He's sleeping."
"You should look in on him before you turn in." Her tone indicated that it was a command.
"I will."
"And you need to clean your room; it looks like a tornado hit it."
Oh, God, she went up to his room? He winced, flashing over his last seconds of frantic packing. To him, it was obvious that Indigo slept over one night while his moms were at Kitty Hawk, but would his moms notice? Could they smell the sex? Had they changed his sheets? Did they find Indigo's forgotten socks and panties in his laundry basket? Had they emptied the waste can?
Not that Indigo and he planned the one night—they had fallen asleep after making love. Nor did his moms actually forbid her staying over, but during a frank conversation about birth control, they also let him know that they thought he was too young, emotionally, to handle a sexual relationship. Since then, they continued, in looks and silences, to express this belief, but not once had they tried to prohibit it either.
On the heels of his panic came a surprising flash of anger. Why had she gone up to his attic bedroom? His parents' bedroom had always been off-limits to him; after his first big jump in maturity, he'd asked for the same respect. Laundry proved to be a minor stumbling point, since Mom Lara still washed his sheets, towels, and dress shirts for him. He took over those responsibilities to gain privacy and independence. There should have been no reason for her to go into the attic.
"What were you doing in my room?"
"I'm sorry, but Cally was playing private investigator with your stuff," Mom Jo said. "I went up to get her out of your bedroom and was surprised at how messy it was."