"Brown, Dale - Patrick 2 - Day of the Cheetah" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Dale)

perated hand down his forehead. "Are you not familiar with
the rules of baseball, Mr. Scorcelli?
"I was not aware that Mr. James was allowed to assault his
friends and fellow players-"
"The proper term is a battery, Mr. Scorcelli. Assault is the

threat of physical harm. Is it a battery if Mr. James' actions
are a legal part of the game?"
"It may not be a battery, sir, but I believe Mr. James took
great pleasure in the opportunity to knock over Mr. Bell--
"Bullshit," James said.
"I also think, sir, that If Mr. James could legally find a way
to hit me over the head with one of those bats from that stupid
game, he would do it with the same enthusiasm and--
"Right, asshole . . . "
"That's enough," Roberts said, his voice calm. Actually he
had to strain to keep from smiling. Scorcelli would be right at
home in a large corporation's boardroom or in a court of law;
James would be at home in an active situation. A dangerous
one with courage and physical stamina. And an ability to ad-
just. James was not a team player. He either led or he would
choose to operate on his own. He could also be ruthless . . .
"I will not have athletics in this institution become a private
battleground between students," Roberts said. "Mr. Scor-
celli?
Scorcelli hesitated, turned to face James and stuck out a
hand.
"Apology accepted, Mr. Scorcelli," James said with his
winning smile-a smile that infuriated Scorcelli.
"I assume you have no intention of changing your playing
habits," Roberts said. "You will continue to take advantage
of each opportunity to denigrate your compatriots, even in a
baseball game?"
Ken James looked puzzled. Scorcelli may have believed he
was wrestling with a moral dilemma. Roberts knew better, but
was surprised when James replied: "Sir, I will take advantage
of every rule and every legal opportunity to win."
"No matter the consequences?"
"No matter, sir."
Roberts expected and desired nothing less. "You are dis-
missed, Mr. Scorcelli. Mr. James will remain . . . so, Mr.

Scorcelli?
"Yes, sir?
"Vi balshoy sveynenah.
Scorcelli did not look blank, as required. Only flustered.
"Get out," Roberts said, and Scorcelli hustled away, clos-
ing the door behind him so gently he might have been closing
a door made of fine china.
Ken James waited impassively. Roberts motioned him to a