"Дон Пендлтон. Caribbean Kill ("Палач" #10) " - читать интересную книгу автора

"You've been staying at Glass Bay?" he asked.
"Yes, three months I am there."
"You could tell me things?"
She nodded and met his brooding gaze. "I could tell many things. If you
are who I think."
Bolan returned his attention to the road and fought the jeep into a
screaming turn as they topped the rise. Straightening out, he threw a quick
glance along the backtrack. Glass Bay was laid out for his inspection. And
it was a revealing one. A pickup truck and another jeep were tearing along
the dirt road back there. Evidently the truth was out and the pursuit was
on.
The girl had seen it also. She told him, in soft Spanish accents, "A
man called Latigo coordinates their operations by radio. That is he in the
pickup. Also they have sent to San Juan for helicopters."
Bolan reached into the rear seat and snared the radio he'd inherited
with the jeep. He gave it to the woman and told her, "You be our ears."
She nodded assent and activated the radio, with no fumbling whatever.
The woman was becoming more of a puzzle. He bluntly asked her, "Okay,
who are you and where do you fit?"
She countered with, "I would ask of you the same."
"Save it for later," he growled. "We're a long way from clear."
"And you are a long way from home, Mack Bolan," she replied.
"Right on," he muttered, not bothering to deny nor confirm the
identification.
"You cannot remain on this road. There will be police roadblocks at
Puerta Vista, the next village."
"How do you know that?" he asked, feeling already the answer in his
gut.
She sighed. "Trust me. I owe you my life. I would not betray you. Go
north at the next crossroads. I know a place of safety."
Bolan realized that there was little alternative but to play the game
her way. He felt that wriggling finger of destiny tickling at his
life-strings once again, and he had learned to yield to its directions.
"Okay," he said tightly. "I guess I'm in your hands."
"And I am in yours."
"Let's set the game," Bolan said quietly. I'm a wanted man. You're a
cop. Now where do the two of us go from there?"
"I am also a woman," she reminded him in a small voice.
Bolan didn't need the reminder. From the top of that perfect head to
those bare little feet, she was every inch a woman.
He showed her a reluctant smile and told her, "That was the first idea
I got."
Her eyes flashed warmly to his and she said, "At the moment, I am just
a woman."
Bolan could have told her that there was no such animal as just a
woman. The female was the more complex and enigmatic in any species, and she
wore many jungle hats. This one also wore a badge.
A small warm hand crept into his. He gently squeezed it and felt a
responsive pressure.
"Okay," he said gruffly.