"da Cruz, Daniel - Republic of Texas 02 - Texas on the Rocks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Da Cruz Daniel)

Forte pulled his nose and looked at Mansour suspiciously. "Doing what?"

"I will tell you in good time. But first you must have a rest, a vacation, to put yourself in the proper frame of mind to tackle the biggest project in the history of mankind."

"Sounds promising, if a little vague. I don't suppose you could be a bit more specific." Forte frowned thoughtfully as he said this, but actually he felt like laughing out loud at the little man and his pompous "biggest project in the history of mankind."

"I fear I cannot," replied Yussef Mansour, equally serious of mien. "But rest assured, this project will tax your abilities to the utmost, and the rewards will be beyond your wildest expectations. I will arrange for all the necessary financing, and you will have total autonomy in the execution of the project. And we will share the profits equally."

"Uh-huh. But will the government rent us the First Marine Division to knock off Fort Knox?"

Mansour nodded patiently. "Mr. Forte, I analyze everything in which I anticipate involving myself. I have studied this project and determined its feasibility in consultation with some of the most august authorities in the world. And I have studied you, from your days as a junior high school dropout to your present precarious situation as head of the Yellow Rose Oil Company. I know you have a preference for tall women, preferably leggy, darkeyed, dark-skinned. I know you once beat a foreman half to death for making a remark about your late father's handicap. I know your taste in literature--Gibbon, Orwell, Henry Cecil, J.H. Parry, and Beryl Markham--and in music--Bach, Telemann, Berlioz, and Brahms. I know that you have $331 in your personal checking account as of this morning. And I know that you are going to tell me no--that you built this oil company and that, by God, you're going to run it as you please."

Forte smiled woodenly. "Right. On all counts."

"Wrong. On one. You no longer own the Yellow Rose Oil Company."

"That so?" said Forte, feeling the stirring of premonition in the pit of his stomach. "Then who does?"

"I do. I bought your notes--at a premium, I confess-- from Boston Federal, the Fourth First National Bank of Houston, and the Bank of Chicago. I likewise bought the 15 million shares outstanding of the Yellow Rose Oil Company which you deposited with those banks as collateral for your long series of loans. Yesterday I took possession of the Yellow Rose as a result of your default in interest. You will receive official notification in the next mail."

Forte rose from his chair, his face suffused.

"You wouldn't do that," he said, his voice tight and menacing. "You say you know all about me. Then you know I'd kill anyone who tried to steal my company, destroy everything I've built these last six years."

"Nevertheless I did," replied Mansour.

Mansour didn't move as Forte advanced across the salon, his hands opening and closing, his eyes a little crazy.

Forte reached down and grabbed Mansour by the neck. With one arm he shoved the little Lebanese up against the bulkhead. He squeezed. A shirt button popped. He squeezed some more, and Mansour's eyes popped. He squeezed harder. Mansour's eyes rolled up, and he passed out.

Forte had never learned to kill a defenseless man. His grip around the man's neck eased, and the little financier crumpled to the floor, his face still cyanotic.

Forte nudged him ungently with the sharp toe of a size12 1/2 cowboy boot.

"Quit faking and get up, you little son of a bitch. You and me got things to talk about."



5. CHAOS
2 DECEMBER 2004.



ON DECEMBER 2, 2004, CITY TUNNEL No. 1 COLLAPSED just south of Hillview Reservoir. Supplying Manhattan and the Bronx, it was one of two trunk tunnels funneling water from northern tributaries of the Hudson and Delaware rivers. Together they constituted the five boroughs' sole source of water. And more than half of it had suddenly vanished.

The loss was catastrophic. The system transported 1.7 billion gallons of water daily, enabling each man, woman, and child in New York to use an average of 230 gallons a day. Most went for manufacturing.

The steel in one washing machine took 4,500 gallons to fabricate. The refinery that produced sugar for New Yorkers' morning coffee gulped down 4,000,000 gallons per day. A ton of cement required 1,125 gallons. A cannery used 10 gallons for each can of beans or corn produced. The paper in the Bible, took 185,000 gallons per ton to manufacture. The rayon in an ordinary living room carpet cost 50,000 gallons to synthesize. A single plant that brewed beer gulped down 15,000,000 gallons a day.