"Michael Z. Williamson - Freehold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

in case of a boobytrap. He rose next to her, placing the gaping maw of his weapon against her kidney
and fastened magnetic shackles firmly around her wrists. Grasping them, he pulled her around and out of
her car, his rifle now under her breastbone. About ten meters from the vehicle they stopped. Her escort
stepped back and slung his weapon as a woman with an explosion of red hair around her helmet stood in
front of her. The woman's face was mostly hidden by a darkened visor, but her mouth was visible and
totally emotionless. Her weapon was unwavering.

Kendra heard more orders from the first guard, who was behind her now. "Spread your legs wide.
Wider. Place your hands on top of your head." She did so, feeling the shackles bite into her wrists. Her
shoulders stretched back awkwardly.

She had expected to be searched by the woman, was surprised that the second male guard was
approaching. He started at her head, mussing her hair, crushing the fabric of her collar while looking for
small items, slid his hands down her back, over her hips, down each trouser leg and into the tops of her
boots. He stood and walked around in front as the other two guards moved to keep him out of line of
fire. He resumed his search. He pulled at her lips with gloved hands. He then felt along her sleeves and
under her arms in a fashion that might have tickled had she not been so scared. He reached inside her
shirt and felt the neckline again, then ran fingers along the contour of her bra and grabbed both her
breasts. By the time she realized it was neither an intimate gesture nor an assault, but still part of a very
thorough search, he had felt around her waistband and clutched at her crotch. He slid down her legs
again and checked the fasteners of her boots. Finished at last, he stepped back.

Kendra said, "I need asylum. My name is—"

"Silence. You may see the ambassador later."

He unslung his weapon and all three guards moved back. She was directed inside, the three standing
well clear and keeping their weapons on her. Not a word was spoken to her and Kendra didn't feel like
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offering anything. She was taken down a service elevator, marched in front of a door and stopped.

The woman approached this time and quickly unfastened every button, snap, zip and rip on Kendra's
clothing. She stepped around behind Kendra, grabbed a leg and pulled off a boot and sock. She
repeated the procedure from the other leg, then yanked her pants and underwear down together and
pulled them off one foot at a time. Reaching up, she uncharged the shackles, whisked them away and
pulled Kendra's arms down behind her. Shirt and bra were pulled off, leaving her naked. A wand ran
over her, seeking anything dense, metallic or electronic, and while she expected it to be silent, she having
nothing concealed, she was reassured that it didn't betray anything. Illogical, but her current situation had
her scared beyond reason. "Bend over," she heard, and complied. There was the expected snap of a
medical exam glove and cold but surprisingly gentle prodding, which she knew included a camera and
another sensor. These people were thorough. She shivered despite herself. A door opened, and she was
pushed gently but firmly into what was obviously a cell. The door closed with an ominous heavy click.

Kendra looked around, breathing again, and took stock of her environment. It was adequately warm,
well lighted, and contained a stall shower, a toilet, a sink and a futon with a quilt. The whole room
measured three meters square.