Читаем The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 3 полностью

“That’s no problem,” she said, her voice reassuring. Though the implication was that there wouldn’t be any trouble—and probably there wouldn’t—Margulies’ mind was considering the quantity of troops and weaponry carried by a patrol vehicle, and the degree to which she could count on Barbour for backup in a firefight.

Not far, she was afraid. Of course, he might draw attention away from her by shooting himself in the foot.

“Angel was from Silva Blanca before he joined the Slammers,” Margulies continued calmly to the headman. The local shifted his weight from one leg to the other, at a rate which increased with the intensity of Margulies’ gaze. “And I got the impression he intended to return here after he retired. I just—”

An open car roared up from the other end of the town’s only street. It had four oversized tires mounted on outriggers to keep the vehicle from tipping during off-road travel; a 2-cm tribarrel was mounted on a central pintle. There were four men aboard, one of them at the grips of the big gun. The muzzles swung as the vehicle swayed on its long-travel suspension.

The patrolmen wore red; red gloves, in the case of the driver.

Emilio’s parents disappeared within their house The boy was out of sight also, though Margulies thought he might have ducked behind a hedge. She didn’t think there’d been enough time for him to have walked around the sweeping curve of the road to Potosi.

The vehicle shimmied to a halt. “Drop those guns!” shouted the man at the tribarrel. “Drop them right now or s’help me, I’ll kill you!”

The driver was extending the collapsed shoulder stock of his sub-machine gun. The other two L’Escorials pointed weapons as well. The fat bore of the grenade launcher wavered between Margulies and Barbour without ever quite aiming at either one of them.

Margulies set her fists deliberately on her hips and faced the car, arms akimbo. “I’m Lieutenant Mary Margulies of the Frisian Defense Forces,” she said in a harsh, hectoring voice. “An ally of L’Escorial if your Masters Luria can come to terms with President Hammer. Who in the hell told you to point a gun at me, boy?”

The driver’s foot slipped off the brake. The car had a hub-center electric motor in each wheel. Their torque jerked the vehicle forward. The gunner fell back, lifting the tribarrel’s muzzles. It was pure luck that he didn’t manage to trigger a burst while he was at it.

The back of the vehicle was full of food and personal gear in wicker baskets. The tribarrel’s gunner untangled himself from the clutter, awkwardly helped by one of his fellows. “Shut it off, Plait!” he shouted. “Shut it off, you dickhead! D’ye want to kill us all?”

The driver, a rabbity-looking fellow, cut the power. The motors’ singing wound down against friction, leaving the village quieter than it would have been without that contrast.

The gunner slapped the grenadier on the shoulder to point him out of the crowded car, necessary so that the gunner too could step down behind him. The driver and the remaining gunman got out also. They stood on the other side of the vehicle; perhaps for the sake of cover.

The headman scurried out his courtyard gate to join the group in the street. “I told them they had no business here,” he said. “And I called you right away, just like I was supposed to, sir.”

“We do indeed have business here,” Margulies said, frowning at the gunner, the apparent team leader. “I came to visit an old friend of mine from the FDF—Angel Tijuca. He was my driver for a year and a half.”

The grenadier stared at the gunner. The gunner frowned in turn. “You know Angel, then?” he said.

“Yes, he was my driver,” Margulies repeated. The L’Escorial didn’t sound hostile for a change, so she didn’t add a gibe to the statement. “He got me out of a tight spot. A really tight spot.”

“Why’s she here, then?” the driver asked plaintively. “Why this dungheap?”

Jalousies covered the windows of the houses. Corners of the slats tilted up as eyes peered from within. The Lord knew what the tableau would seem to people who couldn’t hear the discussion.

A naked child opened the door of a house halfway down the street. An adult arm shot from the shadows and dragged him back inside.

“Look, if you’re friends of Angel, then there’s no problem you being here,” the L’Escorial gunner said. He scratched his beard stubble in puzzlement. “But he’s not here, lady, he’s in Potosi.”

“Where in Potosi is he?” Margulies demanded. She massaged the palm of her left hand with her right thumb.

“Well, he’s in headquarters, I suppose, lady,” the gunner said. He was unsure of himself and nervous of giving offense—under circumstances where, moments ago, he’d thought he and his tribarrel were the Lord God Almighty.

“He’s our training officer, lady,” the driver blurted. “He’s training officer of the L’Escorial syndicate.”

“Well, you missed the live show,” Sten Moden said as Coke opened the door of Hathaway House, “but you’re in time for the first rerun.”

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги

Возвышение Меркурия. Книга 4
Возвышение Меркурия. Книга 4

Я был римским божеством и правил миром. А потом нам ударили в спину те, кому мы великодушно сохранили жизнь. Теперь я здесь - в новом варварском мире, где все носят штаны вместо тоги, а люди ездят в стальных коробках.Слабая смертная плоть позволила сохранить лишь часть моей силы. Но я Меркурий - покровитель торговцев, воров и путников. Значит, обязательно разберусь, куда исчезли все боги этого мира и почему люди присвоили себе нашу силу.Что? Кто это сказал? Ограничить себя во всём и прорубаться к цели? Не совсем мой стиль, господа. Как говорил мой брат Марс - даже на поле самой жестокой битвы найдётся время для отдыха. К тому же, вы посмотрите - вокруг столько прекрасных женщин, которым никто не уделяет внимания.

Александр Кронос

Фантастика / Боевая фантастика / Героическая фантастика / Попаданцы