"John Dalmas - The Second Coming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

"A hundred maybe. I'll have to pick my team and pitch it to them. Fifty might not be
enough."


"Why goddamn it, that's robbery! I'd rather do it myself!"


Lute snapped his fingers. "Sounds like a winner. Go down there, knock on his door,
and when he answers, shoot him. Come on, Carl, get real! This is a job for trained
professionals."


The third man spoke now. "Where do you recommend we get that much money?"


"The last time, if I recall the newspaper story, it came from SeaFirst Bank in
Spokane."
"That wasn't us. You ought to know that."


"Not you personally, I don't suppose. And then there was that armored car heist down
in Denver. A million something."


Carl couldn't restrain himself. "We don't even know who did that one! Probably the
Mexican Mafia."


Lute laughed again. "And you want to kill him just because some stupid shits say he's
the second coming. What makes you so sure there was ever a first coming?"


"Don't talk like that, Lute! You're our nephew. Don't embarrass your mother's soul.
She cringes when you say things like that."


Lute stopped laughing, and the grin disappeared. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight.
"When's the last time you were in church?"


"Damn churches don't know a thing. They're all nigger lovers. Either that or they want
to tell you what to do."


Again Lute laughed. "That's what really gripes your ass, isn't it, Carl? Ngunda's a
nigger, a sharp brainy nigger with lots of money." He paused. "I'm not Aryan, you
know."