Home HomeClay Griffith, Susan Griffith Imperium Wampirów 01 Imperium WampirówLachlan M D Synowie boga 01 Synowie boga (2)Władcy Ciemnoœci 01 Władcy Ciemnoœci Frank E. PerettiMarlowe Mia Dotyk złodziejki 01 Dotyk złodziejkiMarjorie.M.Liu. .Pocalunek.lowcy.01. .Pocalunek.lowcyPeretti Frank E. Władcy Ciemnoœci 01 Władcy CiemnoœciSchröder Patricia Morza szept 01 Morza szept(1)Peter Berling Dzieci Graala 01 Dzieci GraalaAllen Louise Porwanie księżnejCharles Martin W pogoni za Âświetlikami
 

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.I'd really liketo learn it.""All right.There are three things you want to remember: base, angle andleverage.And one of the most basic principles works on taking thecenter line--you want to control the area in front of your head andbody, and in front of an opponent's head and body.I'm going todemonstrate the first djuru.Watch me, and then we'll break it down."Page 130 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe nodded."Yes, ma'am."Tuesday, September 21st, noon When Alex Michaels bothered to eat lunch,heusually ate it at his desk.The unit secretary would get his order,put it on the list and fax it to the deli guy, who would deliver thefood to the reception guard just after noon.Before the deli had beenapproved as a supplier, Net Force had run abackground on the deli's owner, his wife and grown kids and the guy whobrought the orders.Even so, when the assassination protocols had beenin place, if anybody wanted to order out, an agent had to hand-carry theorder to the store, then stand and watch the food as it was prepared.Security was tight, and rightfully so--why bother to shoot somebody ifyou could poison his lunch?Michaels was partial to the Reuben sandwich and potato salad, and thecrunchy dill pickle, quarter-sliced lengthways, that came with it.Thatwas what he usually ordered.On days when he just had to get out of the unit for a few minutes, heskipped the deli order and the Net Force cafeteria and went to the newrestaurant row a couple miles away.In good weather, he took hisrecumbent trike, a low-slung sixteen-gear three-wheeler he left parkedin the covered bike racks.Today, the weather was a little crisper than it had been, not quite sowarm and muggy, a good day for pedal power.He could legally take thetrike on the roads, but there was a jogging/bike path that wound fromthe edge of the fence, and while it was twice as long, it was a muchprettier and safer trip.It had been two weeks since Day's murder, andPage 131 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsince there had not been any more assassination attempts on federalofficials--if you didn't count the Ninth Circuit Court judge whose wifehad beaned him with a fishbowl during an argument about his alledgedextramarital affair--the assassination protocols had been downgraded.Now, it was basically pay-attention-to-things, but not an active alertwith bodyguards, at least not at his level.He changed into bike shoes and shorts and a T-shirt in his office, stuckhis taser into a small fanny pack with his ID and virgil and put hisfoam helmet on.He walked outside to the bike and trike racks, unlockedhis trike and wheeled it out into the parking lot.The recumbent had sethim back two weeks' pay, even used, but he enjoyed theheck out of it.In the lowest gear, he could climb the steepest gradearound here, admittedly not saying much, and on a flat road withouttraffic, he could pump along in high gear at speeds pushing forty.Well,maybe a little less than that, but it felt like he was flying.It was agood way to keep a little tone going on the days he didn't jog, and hehadn't been doing much of that lately.Working out was usually the firstthing to go when he got really busy.It was easy to rationalize it--hecould always run or hit the Bow-flex later, right?He squatted and sat on the low seat, slipped his feet into the toe-clipson the pedals and put his riding gloves on.He grabbed the handlebars.He planned to stretch it out a little today--he felt stale.Lunch waspretty much an excuse for a place to go.Probably he wouldn't do morethan grab a soft drink before he headed back.He checked out at thegate, and headed for the bike path.He stayed in a fairly high gear,even though it was hard to pedal that way at slow speed.The shift leverwas on the seat frame next to his right hip, and easy enough to geardown if the going got too hard.He passed a few people he knew from thePage 132 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlbase, out jogging on their lunch hour, and he waved or nodded at them.He came up behind one young woman in a red Speedo tank top and matchingskintight shorts with a fanny pack slung in back, going at a pretty goodrate in his direction.She was in great shape.He admired the play ofher taut legs and backside as she ran.He checked her in the handlebarmirror when he passed, but he didn't recognize the face.There were alot of people here.She could be a Marine, one of the new FBI recruits,maybe an office 'worker.Or maybe she lived in town and this was thereturn loop.Lately, despite his feelings for his wife--exwife--he hadfelt a few stirrings that exercise and long hours working, or playingwith the Prowler, couldn't quite quell.He sighed, shifted into a higher gear and pumped harder.Sooner orlater, he'd have to jump back into the pool; he couldn't really seehimself as a monk for the rest of his life.It just didn't seem quiteright yet.He was out of practice--and the idea of asking a woman outwas still more than he wanted to think about.The path, a nice smoothmacadam, meandered through a small stand of hardwood trees whose leaveswere fast changing from greens to yellows and golds, then swung past theback of a new light industrial park, mostly office buildings or jobbers'warehouses.A beeping forklift, painted a dark red, with a big silverpropane tank on the back, carried a stack of wooden pallets toward alarger stack next to the chain-link fence.The fork's motor rumbled asthe driver expertly lowered the shipping platforms and backed away.Michaels smiled.He'd run a forklift in an aluminum warehouse one summerwhen he was in high school, moving plate and bar to big flatbed trucksfor shipment.It had basically been a simple job once you got the hangof it, uncomplicated.You picked it up here, and you put it down there,and the only thing you had to worry about was dropping it.It made ahell of a racket when you let a couple thousand pounds of metal slip offPage 133 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe forks, and most of the guys in the warehouse would stop what theywere doing and applaud when it happened.Just like dropping a plate inthe high school lunchroom.It was true what they said: Life was likehigh school--only bigger.He came to the long straight stretch, a littleover half a mile before it curved again, and he upshifted into top gear.He pushed and pulled hard on the pedals, the toe-clips allowing him toapply pressure in both directions.It didn't take but a couple hundredfeet for his legs to get really warm, and halfway through the strip, histhighs and ham strings started to burn really hot.He checked thespeedometer.Thirty-three.Not bad.He had the windshield mounted, butwithout the full faring installed, the drag wouldn't let him get muchfaster sitting upright with just a little backward lean.He passed another rider on a two-wheeler, cruising along at a steady,but slower, speed.The rider wore purple and yellow gear, and the bikewas one of those carbon-frame Swiss jobs that easily cost twice what histrike did.He waved at Michaels as he blew past.Probably going to crankout forty or fifty miles, and save the sprint until the end.And evenafter that distance, Michaels knew he wouldn't be able to stay with himif the guy was a serious biker.Those guys were all crazy.The burn increased, but he kept pumping, holding on.When he had about ahundred and fifty yards before the curve, Michaels allowed himself tocoast.He slowed, added a little brake and made it through the curve.Not much bank there--too bad [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]