Аннотация
Carl Sargent
Streets of blood
Marc Gascoigne
1
The first gleam of blood-red light arced across the cabin just as the massive tires of the suborbital Ghost shuttle screamed on first contact with Runway 11 of the world’s busiest airport. The mage’s mind was elsewhere, and the rough impact jolted him back into the real world of Heathrow’s dazzling lights and concourses.
The call had come just when Serrin thought he’d almost gotten used to Seattle, even begun to feel slightly at home there, his suitcases slouched against the wall of a cheap hotel for more than the usual week or two. He’d been wary of the offer made by the suit with the impossibly even tone of voice, but the nuyen glowing on his credstick was no lie and money enough to bring him to London as requested.
Perhaps the corporation that wanted to hire him couldn’t find a registered British mage to do the job for them. That was plausible enough, considering the way the Lord Protector’s...
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