"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 02 - A Calculated Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

“I didn’t know you were hanging ’round with Amazons,” retorted the bird. “So we’re square.”
Jack groaned in dismay. It had only been a few weeks since his final encounter with Dietrich von
Bern and his army of Border Redcaps. He had hoped for a little more rest before returning to the fray.
However, this unexpected assassination attempt didn’t bode well for the future. Jack had a feeling it was
going to be a long day. A very long day.

8
2
A few seconds later, Cassandra appeared at the edge of the clearing dragging an unconscious man by
the feet. A short, powerfully built man with a dark brown beard that covered his face, he was dressed in
khaki green combat fatigues. That his head bounced along the ground with solid thumps bothered the
Amazon not a bit. Cassandra hated being disturbed during their practice sessions. Jack knew better than
to ask die fate of the other two attackers. Sometimes he preferred not knowing all the answers.
“There were three of them,” declared the Amazon, dumping the lone survivor a few feet away
from Jack. “Each man carried an AK-47 and knew how to use it. For humans, they made remarkably
little noise. Lucky for us, your friend here sounded the alarm.”
“Humans?” repeated Jack, caught by surprise.
He had naturally assumed their enemies to be supernatural entities. New minions of his sinister
foe, sent to eliminate him before he could interfere in the demigod’s schemes. Jack stared at the
unconscious man with undisguised annoyance. The assassin definitely possessed an aura. He was
distressingly mortal.
“What’s the story with this clown?” asked Hugo, hopping forward to peer into die man’s face.
“Disgruntled ex-student?”
“I never saw him before in my life,” said Jack. “Besides, math majors don’t carry automatic
weapons. At least,” he added cautiously, “none of my students did.”
“Let’s wake him up and ask him a few questions,” said Cassandra. There was an icy calmness to
her voice that made Jack shiver. “If he proves uncooperative, I can break a few of his bones. Slowly.
One at a time.”
“I can peck his eyes out if you want,” added Hugo helpfully, “Haven’t done it for centuries, but I
think I still remember the technique. It’s like riding a bicycle. Once you learn how, you never forget.”
“No need to resort to torture unless absolutely necessary,” said Jack, turning green. Born of
mankind’s most vivid imaginings, the supernaturals had a tendency to view everything in terms of
extremes. There were no grays for them, only blacks and whites. “The sight of you two should loosen his
tongue quick enough.”
“Maybe,” said Cassandra, sounding doubtful. “Though anyone using an AK-47 isn’t going to
start talking just because he’s threatened by a talking bird.” She smiled. “Crushing a few fingers usually
starts them babbling.”
“Talk first, torture later,” said Jack firmly.
“Spoilsport,” said Cassandra.
Pulling the man up by his collar into a sitting position, the Amazon slapped him briskly across the
face a few times. After a few hits, the bearded man grunted in pain and opened his eyes.
“We failed, huh?” he said, glancing at the trio without fear. “I assume you got the other two and
I’m the only one left,” The man spat. “Damned bird ruined the ambush. No fair using animals as lookouts.
How’d you manage that trick?”
“I’ll ask the questions,” said Jack, trying to sound tough. “Who are you and why did you try to
kill us?”
“I did my best,” said the bearded man, talking to himself. He completely ignored Jack’s remarks.
“The Old Man warned us it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Old Man?” asked Jack, picking up on the title. “Who are you talking about? Are you with some
intelligence agency or something? The CIA? The FBI?”