Specter

Начало книги

The figure slid ashore with the roll of the surf, garbed all in black, glistening in the wan light of a new-risen last-quarter moon partly masked by scattered clouds, and with the oily sheen of phosphorescence off the sea. It might have been an oil-coated chunk of flotsam washed in by the tide — or a corpse — but the eyes, the whites like ice behind the nonreflective plate of the face mask, were very much alive, shifting back and forth to scan the length of beach.

The next wave brought a second armed and black-clad figure ashore, five meters to the left. The first signaled the second with silent, slashing movements of one hand Check that way.

Both figures clutched knapsacks before them as though black nylon could provide cover from hostile fire; both held the sleek, black deadliness of HK MP5SD3 submachine guns in gloved hands. The men lay belly-down in the sand as surf boiled and frothed around their bodies, using the knapsacks as firing rests for their weapons' muzzle-heavy barrels.

Читать дальше →