"Brixton, Danvy - Dead Hands On The Wheel (Avenger 4203)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brixton Danby)

"How much of that's futures, Barney?" I asked the clerk.

"Over ninety thousand, Mr. Nuber," he said. "Shall I keep on taking bets?"

"Sure," I said confidently, and walked away.

I climbed up the ramp leading to the grandstand and came in sight of the track again.


The crowd let out another salvo of cheers as a black racing car came roaring up. And then
I heard a sound that sent chills running down my spine and caused an icy feeling in the pit
of my stomach, like a lot of cold snakes were crawling around inside me.

For the shout that went up from thousands of throats in the grandstand now was: "Hi-ya'
Landi! Hiya, Landi!"

I rushed to the rail, saw the black car come up the track in a cloud of dust, and slow
down as it approached the starting line. Jack Pelham, the winner of the Indianapolis Speedway
classic, was already lined up; and there was Pedro McCarthy, the ace from the Argentine; and
Alfonso Ruiz, the Mexican; and a couple of Eastern guys named Frost and Murdoch, and some
others. And now Rocco Landi, who wasn't supposed to show up for the race at all!

Only half an hour ago, I'd been down in the washroom. A little guy I didn't know came up
to me and talked out of the side of his mouth: "It's O. K., Wally. In the bag!" And he gave
me the sign--winked his left eye and rolled his tongue around in his right cheek.

That was the tip-off that Joe Milligan had fixed everything.

You see, the fix was rigged up by a bunch of us bookies. We wanted to cash in big on
those future bets, and we figured that the best thing to do was slip Landi something worth
while. So we pooled a hundred grand among the lot of us.

Double-cross the public! To hell with me public! They'd double-cross us, any time,
any place!

We had had a meeting in Milligan's room at the Phoenix Hotel and turned over the big
bunch of jack to him. He's an expert fixer. He'd take care of everything. And now--

Here was Landi in his black racing car, just pulling into the starting line beside
Jack Pelham.

The referees were at Landi's car, looking over his credentials. If there was any fake
about his appearance, if this driver in the black car was a ringer, now was the time to
find it out.

With a hundred and fifty grand on the line, I wasn't taking any chances. I was going
to see for myself.

I hurried to the wicket leading to the track, showed my pass. and went through. Running
isn't easy for a two-twenty-pounder like me, who likes his booze and his eats. But I ran to