• Пожаловаться

Louis L'Amour: Last of the Breed

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Louis L'Amour: Last of the Breed» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. Город: New York, год выпуска: 2010, ISBN: 978-0-553-89935-1, издательство: Random House Publishing Group, категория: Триллер / Историческая проза / Приключения про индейцев / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Louis L'Amour Last of the Breed

Last of the Breed: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Last of the Breed»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

“For sheer adventure L’Amour is in top form.”

Louis L'Amour: другие книги автора


Кто написал Last of the Breed? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Last of the Breed — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Last of the Breed», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

He could hear the impact of blows, hear the grunts of the KGB men as they struck.

He walked off a little way, shuddering, wishing he dared leave, that he even had a way to leave. The KGB cars were the only ones left.

Alekhin came out and gave orders. Zamatev was coming. They were to put up a tent for him. He would ask some questions here. Then they would take the American away and fly him back to prison.

Alekhin smiled. “No more beatings!” he said. “We must leave something for the good Colonel!” He looked around, his eyes going from one to the other. “But we’ve softened him up! We’ve softened him for the Colonel! Now let’s have a drink!”

The tent was rapidly going up, and some folding chairs and a table were taken inside. Alekhin breathed deeply of the mountain air. Suddenly his eyes lighted on Ostap.

“Ah? It is you! Come have a drink with us, and then I’ll send you back to Evensk! I would come, too, but the good Colonel wants to see him before he is moved.” He chuckled. “Not that there is much to move.”

“I did not hear him cry out,” Ostap burst out involuntarily. “I thought—”

Alekhin shrugged. “He did not cry. He is tough, that one.” He smiled, looking at Ostap from his flat black eyes. “Zamatev will see to that, and after Zamatev, me again.” He clapped Ostap on the shoulder. “It is good! Without your help, we’d not have had him! Maybe for weeks!”

Ostap glanced toward the stable. The door had been closed and an iron pin on a short chain dropped in place to keep the hasp closed.

Two KGB men loitered near the Volga Alekhin had come in. A third man stood near another Volga. “Mikhail,” Alekhin said, “I shall give this lad a drink. Then you can drive him back, eh? No need for him to be here, and you won’t be needed.”

Alekhin took Ostap’s arm. “Come! One glass of vodka before the road!” Alekhin pinched his arm. “Maybe two glasses, eh?”

It was an hour before he staggered into the darkness outside the tent. The two KGB men were sitting in Alekhin’s Volga, sharing a bottle.

Ostap had to pass by the stable to get to the other Volga, where Mikhail seemed to be asleep, waiting.

What made him do it, he did not know, but he lifted the pin and let it down against the door. He opened the hasp. “Now!” he said, and walked on to the Volga.

Mikhail awoke. “Good!” he said. “I want to get into town.” He glanced at Ostap. “I’ve a friend there, and maybe she has a friend. Do you have any rubles?”

“Some. I’d like to meet your friend.”

He hunched down in the seat, trying not to think about anything at all. Why had he done that? The man was helpless, but — He shook his head to drive away the thought. If they found out, he would be the one in trouble.

Lying on the filthy floor in the freezing cold, his body heavy with pain, Joe Mack heard the pin drop, heard the low voice and the word “Now!”

His brain was fogged with pain. Some vagrant thought told him he had a concussion. What did it mean, “Now!"? Suddenly through the fog in his brain an arrow of clear light penetrated.

“Now?” And the rattle of a chain. He shook his head and almost passed out at the resulting agony.

Now! He rolled to his knees, fighting the agony the movement caused, and brought his handcuffed wrists down over his buttocks. Rolling on his back he drew his knees up to his chest and put his feet through the circle of arms and cuffs, so they were now in front of him. Somebody had lifted the pin! Perhaps the door would open. He forced himself to listen, and he heard nothing but subdued voices and, from somewhere outside, laughter.

He caught hold of one of the posts that supported the stable roof and pulled himself up. Then he leaned there, his brain swimming. He staggered and fell against the next post. He held himself there, forcing himself to listen. His face felt stiff and strange. He lifted his hands and touched it carefully. His face was caked with blood, and his hair. When he moved, pain shot through him. He thought he also had a broken rib.

He fought to clear his fogged brain. He must think. He must act. Somebody was outside. Somebody would be on guard. They believed they had beaten him into helplessness. Maybe they had. He could only try. He took a careful, trembling step to the door. Gently, he touched it with his fingers. A crack of light showed.

Ever so carefully, he widened the crack. There was a pyramidal tent opposite with a light inside and several men sitting. He could see their shadows against the light. He saw a Volga with two men sitting in it, their backs to him, talking. One man’s hand hung outside, holding a bottle. Beyond, close together, stood three trucks.

His head was heavy with pain, and he had trouble bringing his eyes into focus. Inside him, something was pushing, driving, something that said, Now! Now! And something else that warned him there was no other time than now.

He took a step, staggered and almost fell, caught himself, and moved closer to the Volga. The door of the car was open, and the hand holding the bottle was outside. He could hear the man mumbling, and he heard a snore. The other man was asleep!

A step closer. Another step. His forearm slid across the man’s throat, and the other hand slipped into place. The KGB man reared up, struggled briefly, then subsided. Lifting him from the car, Joe Mack frisked him quickly, expertly. He took the man’s pistol and ammunition. Walking around the car, Joe jerked the drunken man from his seat behind the wheel and threw him to the ground. As the man started to rise, he kicked him.

For a moment then, Joe Mack stood still. His head was spinning and his eyes still would not focus properly. He steadied himself, and then kneeling, he searched the man he had kicked, recovering another pistol and ammunition.

At the car, he felt for the keys. They were in the ignition. He was in a fog, almost as if he were drunk himself, but some inner drive was pushing him. On the back seat of the car was a gun, different from but similar to an AK-47. He picked it up and turned toward the tent. At that moment the flap was thrown back and a man emerged. His brain buzzing, Joe Mack turned the gun toward the tent and let go with a long, continuous burst. Then, turning, he sprayed the trucks with gunfire. He shot into the nearest gas tank and saw flames leap up and the wind catch them.

Getting into the Volga, he turned the car into the road and drove away. Behind him he heard a dull boom as a gas tank exploded.

A dim road took off toward the north and he accepted it. His eyes, almost swollen shut from the beating, offered only slits from which to see. With his fingers he tried to push the swollen openings wider, without much luck. His head throbbing, his body in agony with every move, he drove north. Then, like a drunken man, he began to sing “The Frozen Logger.”

The road was winding and bumpy, a mere trail most of the time, but he drove steadily, and after driving for a time he switched off the lights. The moon was up, and he could see enough to drive.

His thoughts fought for acknowledgment, but his brain was foggy. Where was he? In Siberia. He was in a Volga, on a road going—? He did not know where. Worry intruded itself. There was something he had to do, something which he must acknowledge. It was—

He had to leave this car. It was such an easy way to travel, but it held him to a road and they would be looking along roads. They would be looking soon.

They had not taken his watch. They had searched him for a gun. The rest was left for Alekhin.

And Alekhin was probably dead.

No, he did not know Alekhin was dead. He had fired a burst or two into the tent. The light had gone out, and he had heard some scrambling, and the tent had caught fire. Several of them might have escaped.

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Last of the Breed»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Last of the Breed» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Louis L'Amour: The Lonely Men
The Lonely Men
Louis L'Amour
Louis L'Amour: Mustang Man
Mustang Man
Louis L'Amour
Louis L'Amour: Treasure Mountain
Treasure Mountain
Louis L'Amour
Louis L'Amour: Ride the Dark Trail
Ride the Dark Trail
Louis L'Amour
Дарья Волкова: De Paris avec l'amour (СИ)
De Paris avec l'amour (СИ)
Дарья Волкова
Отзывы о книге «Last of the Breed»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Last of the Breed» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.