[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Who is there?
By way of an answer there is only a low gurgle and a moan, the sound of steps
retreating and then the shutting of a door. Jane wraps a shawl around her
shoulders and slowly pulls back the bolt, opening the door a crack and peering
cautiously outside. Upon the matting she espies a single candle and also
notices that the corridor is full of smoke. The creak ofRochester s half-open
door catches her attention, and then she notices the dim flicker of a fire
within. Jane springs into action, forsaking all thoughts as she runs
intoRochester s burning chamber and attempts to rouse the sleeping figure
with the words:
Wake! Wake!
Rochesterdoes not stir and Jane notices with growing alarm that the sheets of
the bed are starting to turn brown and catch fire. She grasps the basin and
ewer and throws water over him, running to her bedroom to fetch more to douse
the curtains. After a struggle she extinguishes the fire andRochester ,
cursing at finding himself waking in a pool of water, says to Jane:
Is there a flood?
No, sir, she replies, but there has been a fire. Get up, do; you are
quenched now. I will fetch you a candle.
Rochesteris not fully aware of what has happened.
In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre? he demands.
What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you?
Have you plotted to drown me?
Turn aroundreally slowly.
The last line belonged to the guard, whose own demand broke into Acheron s
reading.
Ihate it when that happens! he lamented, turning to face the officer, who
had his gun trained on him. Justwhen you get to a good bit!
Don t move and put the manuscript down.
Acheron did as he was told. The guard unclipped his walkie-talkie and brought
it up to his mouth.
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I shouldn t do that, said Acheron softly.
Oh yes? retorted the guard confidently. And why the hell not?
Because, said Acheron slowly, catching the guard s eye and looking deep
inside him, you will never find out why your wife left you.
The guard lowered his walkie-talkie.
What do you know about Denise?
****
I was dreaming fitfully. It was theCrimea again; thecrump-crump-crump of the
guns and the metallic scream that an armored personnel carrier makes when hit.
I could even taste the dust, the cordite and the amatol in the air, the
muffled cries of my comrades, the directionless sound of the gunfire. The
eighty-eight-caliber guns were so close they didn t need a trajectory. You
never heard the one that hit you. I was back in the APC, returning to the fray
despite orders to the contrary. I was driving across the grassland, past
wreckage from previous battles. I felt something large pluck at my vehicle and
the roof opened up, revealing a shaft of sunlight in the dust that was
curiously beautiful. The same unseen hand picked up the carrier and threw it
in the air. It ran along on one track for a few yards and then fell back
upright. The engine was still functioning, the controls still felt right; I
carried on, oblivious to the damage. It was only when I reached up for the
wireless switch that I realized the roof had been blown off. It was a sobering
discovery, but I had little time to muse. Ahead of me was the smoking wreckage
of the pride of the Wessex Tank: the Light Armored Brigade. The Russian
eighty-eights had fallen silent; the sound was now of small arms as the
Russians and my comrades exchanged fire. I drove to the closest group of
walking wounded and released the rear door. It was jammed but it didn t
matter; the side door had vanished with the roof and I rapidly packed
twenty-two wounded and dying soldiers into an APC designed to carry eight.
Punctuating all this was the incessant ringing of a telephone. My brother,
minus his helmet and with his face bloodied, was dealing with the wounded. He
told me to come back for him. As I drove off thespang of rifle fire ricocheted
off the armor; the Russian infantry were approaching. The phone was still
ringing. I fumbled in the darkness for the handset, dropped it and scrabbled
on the floor, swearing as I did so. It was Bowden.
Are you okay? he asked, sensing something was not quite right.
I m fine, I replied, by now well used to making everything appear normal.
What s the problem? I looked across at my clock. It was 3 A.M. I groaned.
Another manuscript has been stolen. I just got it over the wire. Same MO
asChuzzlewit . They just walked in and took it. Two guards dead. One by his
own gun.
Jane Eyre?
How the dickens did you know that?
Rochestertold me.
What?
Never mind.Haworth House?
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
An hour ago.
I ll pick you up in twenty minutes.
****
Within the hour we were driving north to join the M1 atRugby . The night was
clear and cool, the roads almost deserted. The roof was up and the heating
full on, but even so it was drafty as the gale outside tried to find a toehold
in the hood. I shuddered to think what it might be like driving the car in
winter. By 5 A.M. we would makeRugby and it would be easier from there.
I hope I shan t regret this, murmured Bowden. Braxton won t be terribly
happy when he finds out. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
Who is there?
By way of an answer there is only a low gurgle and a moan, the sound of steps
retreating and then the shutting of a door. Jane wraps a shawl around her
shoulders and slowly pulls back the bolt, opening the door a crack and peering
cautiously outside. Upon the matting she espies a single candle and also
notices that the corridor is full of smoke. The creak ofRochester s half-open
door catches her attention, and then she notices the dim flicker of a fire
within. Jane springs into action, forsaking all thoughts as she runs
intoRochester s burning chamber and attempts to rouse the sleeping figure
with the words:
Wake! Wake!
Rochesterdoes not stir and Jane notices with growing alarm that the sheets of
the bed are starting to turn brown and catch fire. She grasps the basin and
ewer and throws water over him, running to her bedroom to fetch more to douse
the curtains. After a struggle she extinguishes the fire andRochester ,
cursing at finding himself waking in a pool of water, says to Jane:
Is there a flood?
No, sir, she replies, but there has been a fire. Get up, do; you are
quenched now. I will fetch you a candle.
Rochesteris not fully aware of what has happened.
In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre? he demands.
What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you?
Have you plotted to drown me?
Turn aroundreally slowly.
The last line belonged to the guard, whose own demand broke into Acheron s
reading.
Ihate it when that happens! he lamented, turning to face the officer, who
had his gun trained on him. Justwhen you get to a good bit!
Don t move and put the manuscript down.
Acheron did as he was told. The guard unclipped his walkie-talkie and brought
it up to his mouth.
Page 168
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
I shouldn t do that, said Acheron softly.
Oh yes? retorted the guard confidently. And why the hell not?
Because, said Acheron slowly, catching the guard s eye and looking deep
inside him, you will never find out why your wife left you.
The guard lowered his walkie-talkie.
What do you know about Denise?
****
I was dreaming fitfully. It was theCrimea again; thecrump-crump-crump of the
guns and the metallic scream that an armored personnel carrier makes when hit.
I could even taste the dust, the cordite and the amatol in the air, the
muffled cries of my comrades, the directionless sound of the gunfire. The
eighty-eight-caliber guns were so close they didn t need a trajectory. You
never heard the one that hit you. I was back in the APC, returning to the fray
despite orders to the contrary. I was driving across the grassland, past
wreckage from previous battles. I felt something large pluck at my vehicle and
the roof opened up, revealing a shaft of sunlight in the dust that was
curiously beautiful. The same unseen hand picked up the carrier and threw it
in the air. It ran along on one track for a few yards and then fell back
upright. The engine was still functioning, the controls still felt right; I
carried on, oblivious to the damage. It was only when I reached up for the
wireless switch that I realized the roof had been blown off. It was a sobering
discovery, but I had little time to muse. Ahead of me was the smoking wreckage
of the pride of the Wessex Tank: the Light Armored Brigade. The Russian
eighty-eights had fallen silent; the sound was now of small arms as the
Russians and my comrades exchanged fire. I drove to the closest group of
walking wounded and released the rear door. It was jammed but it didn t
matter; the side door had vanished with the roof and I rapidly packed
twenty-two wounded and dying soldiers into an APC designed to carry eight.
Punctuating all this was the incessant ringing of a telephone. My brother,
minus his helmet and with his face bloodied, was dealing with the wounded. He
told me to come back for him. As I drove off thespang of rifle fire ricocheted
off the armor; the Russian infantry were approaching. The phone was still
ringing. I fumbled in the darkness for the handset, dropped it and scrabbled
on the floor, swearing as I did so. It was Bowden.
Are you okay? he asked, sensing something was not quite right.
I m fine, I replied, by now well used to making everything appear normal.
What s the problem? I looked across at my clock. It was 3 A.M. I groaned.
Another manuscript has been stolen. I just got it over the wire. Same MO
asChuzzlewit . They just walked in and took it. Two guards dead. One by his
own gun.
Jane Eyre?
How the dickens did you know that?
Rochestertold me.
What?
Never mind.Haworth House?
Page 169
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
An hour ago.
I ll pick you up in twenty minutes.
****
Within the hour we were driving north to join the M1 atRugby . The night was
clear and cool, the roads almost deserted. The roof was up and the heating
full on, but even so it was drafty as the gale outside tried to find a toehold
in the hood. I shuddered to think what it might be like driving the car in
winter. By 5 A.M. we would makeRugby and it would be easier from there.
I hope I shan t regret this, murmured Bowden. Braxton won t be terribly
happy when he finds out. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]