Delta Green - [54]
“Aleksander Maslov’s and Boris Nikitin’s physical examinations showed their health to be flawless, Anatoly. You are grasping for straws of excuse. It is something we do not tolerate in our subordinates.”
“You are a true friend, Sergei. You will keep me on the correct course.”
“Remember how we discussed this very issue?” Pavel said. “Not the specific case, but the lack of flexibility in the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.”
“I remember. And I still believe that the party’s insistence upon adhering to strict standards and timetables led to its downfall.”
“Exactly! And we were part of the system; it is ingrained. However, we must choose flexibility, Anatoly. We have excellent people, and we must rely on them. You watch. Colonel Maslov will achieve his mission, but we must allow him his own decision making.”
“You truly believe that, Sergei?”
“Of course I do,” Pavel said. “In the meantime, as the Americans do, I have my fingers crossed.”
The Central Intelligence Agency came up with two more interesting pieces of data. Copies of the two cables were forwarded to the G-2, USSC-1. The first short message dealt with the Soviet defector Yevstigneyev:
TOP SECRET 10170935Z
TO: PEARL
FROM: AARDVARK
SUBJECT Y-l DEPARTED BAGHDAD 07/12 FOR TRIPOLI. RUMORED TO BE AERO CONSULTANT LAF. WANT MORE?
Pearson pondered the information. There were two ways to go with it. One, she could work up a theory which put Libya in the middle of a plot to steal the MakoShark and increase its share of power in the world. She wouldn’t put it past the madman to think he was capable of establishing a presence in space.
Or two, she could put it on the electronic spindle for the time being.
She favored the spindle since Yevstigneyev’s file had not contained cross-references to General Anatoly Shelepin, and she thought that following the trail of the general staff defector was a more promising direction.
Pearson wrote a quick memo to herself, then consigned it to her suspense file.
Then she called up the second cable to the screen:
TOP SECRET 10171421Z
TO: PEARL
FROM: MOSQUITO
PER WATCHLIST 10/16, POS ID EX-SOV SERGEI PAVEL THIS CAP CITY. FOLLOWED TO APPARENT RES W/ OTHER SOV EMIGRES. NOCONTACT MADE.
A note at the bottom, apparently entered by the processing analyst at Langley, identified MOSQUITO as resident in Phnom Penh.
Much more promising.
General Sheremetevo had identified Pavel as buddy-buddy with Shelepin and a fellow deserter.
She typed a quick memo to the Deputy Director of Operations at Langley requesting further detail on the other Soviet émigrés living in Phnom Penh, along with the location of their residences.
If nothing else, she could send McKenna on an overflight to get a few recon photos.
After spending six hours losing track of Delta Green, and since they were already in space, McKenna had ordered the three MakoSharks back to Themis for maintenance, refueling, and rearming.
Deltas Blue, Yellow, and Red were each docked in their own hangar cells since the MakoSharks were kept out of the view of satellite eyes and Earth-bound telescopes. Beyond the attempt to keep them from view, servicing the craft inside the mother ship was much easier than dancing around in clumsy space suits outside the space station.
Delta Blue floated in the middle of her hangar, secured by eight long bungee straps. The dark blue finish seemed to absorb light from the surface-mounted light fixtures in the gray-finished bay.
Technicians with vacuum hoses attempted to capture all traces of dirt or dust caught in the crannies of the MakoShark’s compartments. The space station’s recirculated atmosphere needed all of the help it could get, despite its complex filtration system.
During the refueling process, a low-toned chime kept sounding while a red strobe light pulsed at the same rate. The aural and visual alarms tended to make technicians concentrate while volatile fuels were transferred from the feeder outlets of the hub to the craft.
When the refueling of both the liquid JP-7 and the pelletized solid fuel was complete, McKenna floated into the cockpit, powered up the computer, and called up the MakoShark’s maintenance log which kept track of the hours used on all of the critical sub-systems. Future maintenance requirements were noted, but none were currently pressing. McKenna scrolled the log up the screen, but did not see anything that might affect safety or performance.
Tapping in the frequency for Themis’s maintenance office on the radio pad, McKenna said, “Beta Anyone, Delta Blue”
“Beta Two.”
“Polly, my dear. You want my log?”
“Why not, if it’ll keep you happy. Hang on a minute while I set up.”
He waited until she gave him the order to proceed, then tapped the command into his keyboard. All of the updated maintenance files were transferred immediately into Beta’s computer storage, which also contained data on the other MakoSharks, the Makos, and the HoneyBees.
With the maintenance requirements met, McKenna met with Tech Sergeant Bert Embry, whose tiny office in the hub guarded an orange-painted security hatch. The compartment was labeled A-61, and most visitors thought that it simply contained additional fuels.
Елена — главная героиня, своенравная девушка, жизнь заставила стать ее сильной, ведь она потеряла всю свою семью, выжившая чудом, переезжает к своей бабушке. Елена пытается приспособиться к новой жизни, обрести новых друзей… Но всей этой идиллии приходит конец. Приняв участие в загадочном ритуале поневоле, становится частью ведьмовского ковена. Смогут ли ребята выжить в колдовском мире? Ведь на них уже началась охота. Пожертвует ли Елена своей любовью, чтобы спасти всех?
В настоящий сборник вошли восемь разноплановых рассказов, немного вымышленных и почти реальных, предназначенных для приятного времяпрепровождения читателя.
Повесть-сказка, без моральных нравоучений и объяснения смысла жизни для нашей замечательной молодежи. Она и без нас все знает.
Максим, как и многие люди, жил обычной жизнью, не хватая звёзд с неба, но после поездки в Индию, где у него произошла довольно странная встреча с одним мудрым старцем, фундамент его привычного мировоззрения дал трещину, а позже и вовсе рассыпался в прах. Новый смысл и уже иные горизонты увлекли молодого человека к разгадке очень древней тайны жрецов… И это ещё не всё, впереди другие приключения и жизненные головоломки. С уважением, Вячеслав Корнич.
Тяга к взрослым мужчинам — это как наркотик: один раз попробуешь — и уже не в силах остановиться. Тем, для кого априори это странно, не объяснишь. И даже не пытайтесь ничего никому доказывать, все равно не выйдет. Банально, но вы найдете единомышленников лишь среди тех, кто тоже на это подсел. И вам даже не придется использовать слова типа «интерес», «надежность», «безопасность», «разносторонность», «независимость», «опыт» и так далее. Все будет ясно без слов. Вы будете искать этот яд снова и снова, будет даже такой, который вы не захотите пустить себе по вене, но который будете хранить у самого сердца и носить всегда с собой.
Мэпллэйр – тихий городок, где странности – лишь часть обыденности. Здесь шоссе поедает машины, болотные огни могут спросить, как пройти в библиотеку, а призрачные кошки гоняются за бабочками. Люди и газеты забывают то, чего забывать не стоит. Нелюди, явившиеся из ниоткуда, прячутся в толпе. А смерть непохожа на смерть. С моста в реку падает девушка. Невредимая, она возвращается домой, но отныне умирает каждый день, раз за разом, едва кто-то загадает желание. По одним с ней улицам ходит серый мальчик. Он потерял свое прошлое, и его неумолимо стирают из Мироздания.