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

make it alone?" Ukiah nodded. "I'll go first and act as your eyes."
Max climbed up, and was there, a steadying hand and voice, when Ukiah scrambled out of the
manhole. Rescue No. 1, the heavy rescue truck from the Shadyside station, Engine No. 14 of the
Oakland fire station, and another squad car had filled the street while Ukiah was in the storm drains. The
night was full of flashing lights, blaring radios, moving bodies, shouting voices, and restraining hands.
Ukiah covered his eyes as they shifted painfully back to human normal, trying to block out some
of the confusion around him. At least the earlier cloudburst had ended, and the rain had tapered down to
a fine drizzle.
 "He's fine." Max fended off an attempt to get him onto a gurney. "Just give him a moment."
A compromise of him sitting on the fire engine's bumper was reached, and a woman pushed
away his hand, commanding, "Let me see. Do you have something in your eyes?"
"The light hurts." He blinked open his eyes, squinting against the glare. "I got used to the dark."
"Then you probably don't want me to do this." She shone a penlight into his eyes and watched
them dilate. Behind her, the ambulance pulled away, whisking Kyle off to Children's Hospital. "You really
should leave this stuff to us," she chided. "Good work, though. It's great to have finally found one of the
missing kids."
A few minutes later she announced him completely fit. By then, word of the rescue had reached
the media, and four TV news reporters from the local channels arrived, followed by cameramen and
more bright lights.
"Mr. Oregon, how did you find the little boy?"
"We're told he's been taken to Children's Hospital. How badly was he hurt?"
"Were there any signs of the other four missing children?"
"No. He just went after a lost ball," Ukiah told them, following Max as his partner cleared a path
to the Cherokee. "He climbed down into the storm drain and got stuck. This wasn't connected to the
kidnappings."
"How did you find him? The police searched the neighborhood for hours. People here say you've
only been on the case for less than an hour."
"Did you follow his scent, Wolf Boy?"
"No more questions." Max unlocked the Cherokee remotely, and opened the passenger door for
Ukiah. "We've had a rough day and we're heading home now."
The reporters chased Max around the Cherokee as he threw the damp climbing ropes into the
back and then got into the driver's seat, repeating the same questions while he shook his head and said,
"No comment."
Max and Ukiah were silent until they turned the first corner, leaving the chaos behind them.
"Did you get your mouse?"
"Yeah." Ukiah took the mouse out of his pocket and found a power bar to feed to it. "Where did
you get the ropes?"
"Bought them off a neighbor. Rock climber. I paid the little shit twice what they were worth."
"So you paid him all the money in the world?"
Max looked at him, surprised, and then grinned. "I suppose that is what they were worth to us."
***
Their offices were in Shadyside, a small, affluent neighborhood filled with boutiques and
mansions. Max had bought the house when he was happily married, planning to fill it with antique
furniture and spoiled children. His wife died in a car accident, changing those plans, and the mansion was
now the office for Bennett Detective Agency. To Ukiah, it was a second home, complete with his own
bedroom.
 The mansion had a carriage house converted into a detached four-car garage. Max parked the
Cherokee in the second bay, between Ukiah's motorcycle and Max's Hummer. "Go ahead and get
cleaned up. We'll deal with the equipment tomorrow. Don't forget your mouse."
Ukiah had forgotten the sleeping mouse. It was annoying that perfect recall did not mean one