A Time to Die - Smith Wilbur (читать книги полные .txt) 📗

"What happened?" Sean ran to him, and Job stared at him, trying to focus his eyes. He had been brutally beaten. His lips were swollen into purple bruises, his mouth full of blood that stained his teeth like red wine. One eyebrow was cut through, a deep jagged split from which blood trickled down the side of his nose. Blood welled out of both nostrils, swelling into bright pink bubbles as he breathed through it. There were lumps on his forehead like overripe grapes, and the lobe of one ear was torn. Blood dripped onto the front of his dusty tunic.

shoulder.

"Job, what the hell,-?" Sean caught him by the

"WhaT "I tried to stop them"" Job blurted out, his eyes fixed on Sean's face. "I tried!"

"Take it easy."

Sean tried to lead him to a seat, but he shook Scan's hands away and said, "Claudia."

A flash frost of dread chilled Sean's belly. "Claudia!" he repeated, and looked around him wildly. "Where is she, Job? What happened?"

"They took her," Job repeated. "China's goons. I tried to stop them."

Sean reached for the pistol on his webbing belt. "Where is she, Job?" The pistol grip fed his hand.

"I don't know." Job Swiped the palm of his hand down his face and looked at the blood. "I was out cold, I don't know for how long."

"China, you turd-munching bastard, you are going to die." Sean whirled, ready to go charging back to the headquarters bunker.

"Sean, think first!" Job called urgently, and Sean checked. So often Job had saved him with those two words: "Think first!"

It required an enormous effort of will, but for seconds Sean managed to keep his head above the wave of his killing rage. "The manuals, Job!" he gritted out. "Burn them"" Job blinked at him through the blood that spilled from the split eyebrow. "Burn the manuals!" Sean repeated. "Insurance, wan.

We are the only ones who know."

Job's expression cleared. "And the cassettes!" he exclaimed.

"Right!" Sean said. "The cassettes. Give them to me."

While Job hastily repacked the attack cassettes into their carrying case, Sean walked across to where Alphonso sat at the front of the amphitheater and unhooked a phosphorus grenade from his belt.

Working swiftly, he used his pistol lanyard and the phosphorus grenade to rig a makeshift self-destruction device in the interior of the case of attack cassettes. He hooked the clip of his pistol lanyard through the pin of the grenade and laid the grenade itself in the middle of the case. Using the point of a bayonet, he drilled a hole through the rid of the carrying case and threaded the end of the lanyard through it. When he locked the case, he looped the free end of the lanyard securely around his own wrist.

"Let China try and get them away from me now," he said grimly. If the case were jerked out of his grip, or if he let it fall, the lanyard would pull the pin of the grenade, destroying not only the contents but anybody standing nearby. He waited just long enough to watch Job set a match to the pile of instruction manuals.

Once they were fully ablaze he ordered Job, "Stay here, make certain they are burned to ashes."

Then, lugging the case of cassettes, he started back to the headquarters bunker.

"I said you would be back," China greeted him, but that icy sardonic smile faded swiftly as he saw the case Sean carried and the lanyard looped around his wrist.

Sean lifted the case in front of him and flaunted it in China's face. "There is the Hind squadron, China," he said, keeping his voice level with an effort. "Without this your Stingers are useless to YOU."

China's eyes flicked toward the entrance of the dugout.

"Don't even think about it," Sean warned him. "There is a grenade inside the case, a phosphorus grenade. This lanyard is attached to the firing pin. If I drop it, like if I was to die suddenly or someone were to pull it out of my hand, the whole lot goes up in a nice little bonfire, happy fifth of November."

They stared at each other across the desk.

"So this is a pretty little stalemate, Colonel." China's smile was reborn, colder and more deadly than Sean had ever seen it before.

"Where is Claudia Monterro?" Sean asked. China raised his voice, summoning an orderly from the radio room.

"Bring the woman!" he ordered, and they waited, both of them poised and alert, watching each other's eyes.

"I should have thought of the cassettes," China said in conversational tones. "That was good, Colonel. Very good. You can see why I want you to lead the attack."

"While we are on the subject," Sean replied, "I have also burned the instruction manuals. There are only three of us-Job, Claudia, and me-who understand the Stingers."

"What about the Shanganes-Alphonso, Ferdinand?" China challenged.

Sean grinned at him like a death 9s head. "Not on, China. They know how to shoot them, but they don't have any idea how to program the microprocessors. You need us, China. Without us the Hinds are coming after you, and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. So don't fool with me. I have your survival in my hands."

There was a scuffle in the outer room, and both of them looked to the entrance as Claudia was pushed through from the radio room. Her hands were once more manacled behind her back, she tumbled into her face and down had lost her cap, and her hair had her neck.