James Axler Deathlands 043 Dark Emblem

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line of advertising copy.
"Doesn't surprise me," Ryan said easily, stooping to pick a smallish bright
red flower that had grown up in a bare patch of dirt near the curb.
"You should give it to the lady, senor
," a voice said. "It matches the crimson of her hair."
They looked up to see a heavyset man in a straw hat looking down at them from
a second-story window.
"Yeah, I was going to do that," Ryan said warily, handing the flower to
Krysty.
"Thank you." Krysty was slightly annoyed at having her private time with Ryan
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem and Dean interrupted by the
native's appearance. She'd been charmed by rogues before, and knew the drill.
Still, her mutie ability to read a person was giving her an all-clear signal
regarding the man looking down, as opposed to the conflicting impressions that
radiated like flaming tendrils from the always smiling Silas
Jamaisvous.
"That flower is the Maltese cross, named because the petals of its flowers
have the shape of the cross. You can see them if you look closely," the man
noted.
"Hot pipe! He's right, Dad! Check it out!" Dean said excitedly, pointing at
the flower.
"Thanks for the tip," Ryan said, turning to go. But the man wasn't to be put
off so easily.
"My name is Soto," he called out. "Might I ask who you are?"
Ryan turned back and made quick introductions. "Ryan Cawdor. Krysty Wroth.
My boy, Dean. We're staying at El Mono."
Soto made a show of appearing impressed, whistling softly before speaking.
"That explains much. We don't see newcomers around here very often& at least,
not human newcomers."
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Ryan and Krysty both wondered what the man meant by such an odd statement, but
didn't inquire further.
"We get around a lot. We tend not to stay in one locale for very long."
Soto nodded sagely. "Ah. That explains your weapons."
Ryan had already dropped a hand to rest lightly on the butt of the SIG-Sauer.
"Man has to be armed and ready to defend himself."
Soto nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, I agree. It's just in Old San Juan, we
rarely
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem have need of such means of
self-defense, at least, we had no need until recently."
The one-eyed man frowned. "That's twice you've dropped some kind of hint. If
something's on your mind, say it."
Soto waved a hand, batting at the air in a submissive motion. "Please, don't
get upset. I have no wish to cause trouble for you or your family. Why don't I
come down where we can speak more privately?"
"You alone?"
"Yes."
"Okay, we'll wait."
Soto leaned out through the window and pointed with his left hand to the side
of the building. "If you open the gate and go around the side, you'll see a
garden. I'll be coming down the back stairs."
The garden along the wall was overflowing with flowering plants and ornamental
bushes hibiscus, gardenia, bougainvillea, jasmine, oleander, golden trumpet,
cup of gold, and the queen-of-the-night, so called because its pale fragrant
blossoms open only after dark. Flaming red poinsettias sixteen feet tall were
growing wild at the edge where the ground met the concrete of the partition.
"Gaia, but this land is beautiful," Krysty said, sighing.
"Thank you," Soto replied as he stepped gingerly down the steps. He wore a
white shirt, sandals on wide, flat feet, and near-white blue jeans. A pair of
binoculars dangled from his neck. There was no visible blaster on his hip,
although a large knife hung from his belt in a leather sheath. The straw hat
was perched at an angle on his head.
"You wanted to talk?" Ryan asked, as blunt as always.
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem
"I did, Mr. Cawdor. There is a darkness here in Old San Juan an outsider such
as yourself might be able to help eliminate. A man with blasters and
experience."
"Experience?" Krysty repeated.
Soto clarified. "In dangerous affairs."
"Guess you could say that," Ryan said. "Just so you know, I'm not a mercie or
sec man. I don't kill for profit."
"That is good since I have no currency to pay you with. What I can offer is
food and drink and a story."
Ryan glanced at his wristchron. He'd reset the timepiece for local time that
morning before leaving El Morro. It was high noon. "Reckon we can spare a
moment to hear you out and break your bread."
"Good! Now, come, come. A cafe is not far from here."
THE CAFE WAS SMALL and intimate, open at the front to allow natural lighting,
yet still sheltered enough to provide shade from the blistering heat. When
Ryan had spoken of "breaking bread," he hadn't realized how accurate his
statement would prove to be, since lunch was indeed hunks of freshly baked
bread with sweet-tasting sides of butter for flavoring. A bowl of fruit was
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placed next to the platter of bread, and all were given water to drink.
They had been joined by another man whom Soto had introduced as Jorge, and the
two made an interesting contrast. Where Soto was plump and compact, Jorge was
tall and muscular. Where Soto's clothing was heavily worn and drenched in
sweat, Jorge was bare-chested and wore a pair of clean nylon swimming trunks.
The taller man didn't share in his friend's efforts to be friendly, and he
gazed across the table with open distrust. When first introduced, there had
been multiple exchanges of Spanish, some heated, before Soto had turned with
his usual smile and asked them to sit. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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