• Пожаловаться

Keith Laumer: Dinosaur Beach

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Keith Laumer: Dinosaur Beach» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. год выпуска: 1971, ISBN: 0-684-12374-6, издательство: Charles Scribner's Sons, категория: Фантастика и фэнтези / 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:

Keith Laumer Dinosaur Beach

Dinosaur Beach: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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

Keith Laumer: другие книги автора


Кто написал Dinosaur Beach? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Dinosaur Beach — 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 «Dinosaur Beach», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

I took another swallow of my drink. It was the real stuff, one of the compensations of the job.

“Neat,” I said. “What does he do for an encore?” My little man looked a bit startled. “You jape, Mr. Ravel? I’m speaking of your death. Here. In a matter of seconds!” He leaned across the table to throw this at me, with quite a lot of spit.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” I said, and let go his arm and raised my glass to him. “Don’t go spending a lot of money on a fancy funeral.”

It was his turn to grab me. His fat little hand closed on my arm with more power than I’d given him credit for.

“I’ve been telling you what will happen—unless you act at once to avert it!”

“Aha. That’s where that big future you mentioned comes in.”

“Mr. Ravel—you must leave here at once.” He fumbled in a pocket of his coat, brought out a card with an address printed on it: 356 Colvin Court.

“It’s an old building, very stable, quite near here. There’s an exterior wooden staircase, quite safe. Go to the third floor. A room marked with the numeral 9 is at the back. Enter the room and wait.”

“Why should I do all that?” I asked him, and pried his fingers loose from my sleeve.

“In order to save your life!” He sounded a little wild now, as if things weren’t working out quite right for him. That suited me fine. I had a distinct feeling that what was right for him might not be best for me and my big future.

“Where’d you get my name?” I asked him.

“Please—time is short. Won’t you simply trust me?”

“The name’s a phony,” I said. “I gave it to a Bible salesman yesterday. Made it up on the spot. You’re not in the book-peddling racket, are you, Mr. Ah?”

“Does that matter more than your life?”

“You’re mixed up, pal. It’s not my life we’re dickering for. It’s yours.”

His earnest look went all to pieces. He was still trying to reassemble it when the street door opened and a man in a black overcoat, black velvet collar, black homburg, and carrying a black swagger stick walked in.

“You see?” My new chum slid the whisper across the table like a dirty picture. “Just as I said. You’ll have to act swiftly now, Mr. Ravel, before he sees you—”

“Your technique is slipping,” I said. “He had me pat right down to my shoe size before he was halfway through the door.” I brushed his hand away and slid out of the booth. The man in black had gone across to the bar and taken the fourth stool, without looking my way. I picked my way between the tables and took the stool on his left.

He didn’t look at me, not even when my elbow brushed his side a little harder than strict etiquette allowed. If there was a gun in his pocket, I couldn’t feel it. He had propped the cane against his knees, the big silver head an inch or two from his hand. I leaned a little toward him.

“Watch it, the caper’s blown,” I said about eight inches from his ear.

He took it calmly. His head turned slowly until it was facing me. He had a high, narrow forehead, hollow cheeks, white lines around his nostrils against gray skin. His eyes looked like little black stones.

“Are you addressing me?” he said in a voice with a chill like Scott’s last camp on the icecap.

“Who is he?” I said in a tone that suggested that a couple of smart boys ought to be able to get together and swap confidences.

“Who?” No thaw yet.

“The haberdasher’s delight with the hands you hate to touch,” I said. “The little guy I was sitting with. He’s waiting over in the booth to see how it turns out.” I let him have a sample of my frank and open smile.

“You’ve made an error,” Blackie said, and turned away.

“Don’t feel bad,” I said. “Nobody’s perfect. The way I see it—why don’t we get together and talk it over—the three of us?”

That got to him; his head jerked—about a millionth of an inch. He slid off his stool, picked up his hat. My foot touched the cane as he reached for it; it fell with a lot of clatter. I accidentally put a foot on it while picking it up for him. Something made a small crunching sound.

“Oops,” I said, “sorry and all that,” and handed it over. He grabbed it and headed for the men’s room. I almost watched him too long; from the corner of my eye I saw my drinking buddy sliding toward the street exit. I caught him a few yards along the avenue, eased him over against the wall. He fought as well as you can fight when you don’t want to attract the attention of the passersby.

“Tell me things,” I said. “After I bought the mindreading act, what was next?”

“You fool—you’re not out of danger yet! I’m trying to save your life—have you no sense of gratitude?”

“If you only knew, chum. What makes it worth the trouble? My suit wouldn’t fit you—and the cash in my pockets wouldn’t pay cab fare over to Colvin Court and back. But I guess I wouldn’t have been coming back.”

“Let me go! We must get off the street!” He tried to kick my ankle, and I socked him under the ribs hard enough to fold him against me wheezin like a bagpipe. The weight made me take a quick step back and I heard a flat whup! like a silenced pistol and heard the whicker that a bullet makes when it passes an inch from your ear. There was a deep doorway a few feet away. We made it in one jump. My little pal tried to wreck my knee, and I had to bruise his shins a little.

“Take it easy,” I said. “That slug changes things. Quiet down and I’ll let go your neck.”

He nodded as well as he could with my thumb where it was, and I let up on him. He did some hard breathing and tugged at his collar. His round face looked a bit lopsided now, and the China-blue eyes had lost their baby stare. I made a little production of levering back the hammer of my Mauser, waiting for what came next.

Two or three minutes went past like geologic ages.

“He’s gone,” the little man said in a flat voice. “They’ll chalk this up as an abort and try again. You’ve escaped nothing, merely postponed it.”

“Sufficient unto the day and all that sort of thing,” I said. “Let’s test the water. You first.” I nudged him forward with the gun. Nobody shot at him. I risked a look. No black overcoats in sight.

“Where’s your car?” I asked. He nodded toward a black Marmon parked across the street. I walked him across and waited while he slid in under the wheel, then I got in the back. There were other parked cars, and plenty of dark windows for a sniper to work from, but nobody did.

“Any booze at your place?” I said.

“Why—yes—of course.” He tried not to look pleased.

He drove badly, like a middle-aged widow after six lessons. We clashed gears and ran stoplights across town to the street he had named. It was a poorly lit macadam dead end that rose steeply toward a tangle of telephone poles at the top. The house was tall and narrow, slanted against the sky, the windows black and empty. He pulled into a drive that was two strips of cracked concrete with weeds in the middle, led the way back along the side of the house past the wooden steps he’d mentioned, used a key on a side door. It resisted a little, then swung in on warped linoleum and the smell of last week’s cabbage soup. I followed him in and stopped to listen to some dense silence.

“Don’t be concerned,” the little man said. “There’s no one here.” He led me along a passage a little wider than my elbows, past a tarnished mirror, a stand full of furled umbrellas, and a hat tree with no hats, up steep steps with black rubber matting held in place by tarnished brass rods. The flooring creaked on the landing. A tall clock was stopped with the hands at ten past three. We came out in a low-ceilinged hall with flowery brown wallpaper and dark-painted doors made visible by the pale light coming through a curtained window at the end.

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Dinosaur Beach»

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


Keith Laumer: Sur le seuil
Sur le seuil
Keith Laumer
Keith Laumer: Doorstep
Doorstep
Keith Laumer
Keith Laumer: End as a Hero
End as a Hero
Keith Laumer
Keith Laumer: Greylorn
Greylorn
Keith Laumer
Keith Laumer: Of Death What Dreams
Of Death What Dreams
Keith Laumer
Keith Laumer: Thunderhead
Thunderhead
Keith Laumer
Отзывы о книге «Dinosaur Beach»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Dinosaur Beach» 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.