"Block, Lawrence - Rhodenbarr 2004 - Burglar on the Prowl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Block Lawrence)

"A wall safe? I never yet found a really difficult one. And if he's got the mother of all wall safes, well, all that means is I'll have to pull it out of the wall and take it home and work on it at leisure. That's another thing about wall safes, they're portable. They have to be or you couldn't stick them in the wall."

"Are you gonna do it, Bern?"

"I told Marty I'd have to think about it. He really wants me to do it. He offered to come along on the job, and even said he'd be willing to waive his end."

"What was he gonna wave his end at?"

"Waivewith ani. He'd get a finder's fee, and if he came along, too, he'd get a share. But he said he'd be willing to go the whole route and not get a nickel for his troubles. Of course he probably knows I wouldn't take him up on the offer, but the fact that he made it in the first place shows how strongly he feels. He doesn't care about the money. He just wants to see Crandall Mapes get one in the eye. Whatever he's got in the safe, it's either cash or something he bought for cash. So it's not insured, which makes it a dead loss to the good doctor."

"You figure Mapes is really that big a shitheel, Bern?"

"Well, I don't suppose he's one of nature's noblemen. At the very least he's a bounder, and probably a cad in the bargain. Marty's got a particular reason to hate him, because he took Marty's girl away from him before he was done with her. Personally, I've got nothing against Dr. Mapes. He hasn't done anything bad to me, and he's not likely to, since I haven't got a girlfriend for him to steal."

"Neither have I."

"But I don't have to hate a man in order to steal from him. I've never bothered to justify what I do, because I recognize it's not justifiable."

"You've said it's a character defect."

"It is, and I probably ought to do something about it. And maybe I will, someday."

"But not today, huh, Bern?"

"Not today," I said, "and not tomorrow, and not the day after tomorrow."

"What's the day after tomorrow?"

"Friday."

"Thanks, Bern. If I didn't have you for a friend I'd have to go out and buy a calendar. What happens on Friday?" I just looked at her, and she put her hand on her forehead. "Duh," she said. "That's when you're gonna do it. Friday night? I guess that means you'll be ordering Perrier at the Bum Rap."

We meet every day after work at a gin mill around the corner for a ritual Thank-God-It's-Finished drink, to unwind after a high-pressure day of washing dogs and peddling books. On those occasional evenings when the work has just begun for me, my standard tipple is Perrier water. Scotch, my usual drug of choice, mixes well with any number of things, but burglary, alas, is not among them.

"But that's okay," she said, "because I won't be there myself." She cocked her head, winked. "I've got a date."

"Anybody I know?"

"Nope. Well, I shouldn't be so quick to say that. You might know her. But I don't."

"You met her online."

"Uh-huh."

"Which service? Date-a-Dyke?"

"They're the best, Bern. They're much better than Lesbe Friends at screening out the teenage boys. What's the deal with adolescent males and gay women, do you have a clue? Why are they so fascinated with us? Because I can assure you it's not reciprocal."

"You mean to say you don't have fantasies of being a fifteen-year-old boy, or fooling around with one?"