The Sixth Sense is Death [antikvár]

Taster, faster! You're thirty seconds behind schedule!' The thin metallic voice whispered from the clump of bushes. The leaves partéd and a man's eyes reflected in the moonlight as he glanced left and right. He was wearing a black combat suit, black balaclava helmet, black plimsolls, to merge with the night. The scene was deserted. He scurried across the road, leaped at the twelve-foot barbed-wire fence and swung himself over. porton down research unit, declared the notice below the man's jump, no admittance, m.o.d. The man raced across the grass, crouched low, pausing by each tree for cover until he reached the huge red building like a mentái home in the middle of the grounds. Two sentries were standing guard at the entrance to the bnilding. The man in the combat suit ran alongside the rhododendron hedge until he was level with the sentries. He dived headfirst over the rhododendrons, somersaulted neatly on the other side and leaped at the nearest sentry. The sharp crack of the sentry's neck breaking made the second man spin round in alarm. But before his gun could be raised he was felled by a karate chop across the throat. 'Too slow,' rasped the metál voice. 'You must act immediately.' 5