"Peter David - PSI-man 2 - Deathscape" - читать интересную книгу автора (David Peter)

the road when they approached Boulder. They got out when Rommel announced to Chuck,
rather forcefully, that they better pull over or otherwise Rommel was going to take a dump in
the back of the rickety pickup truck that served as their transportation. Taking the large
German shepherd at his word, they indeed pulled over, and while Rommel was going about
his business, he picked up the scent of the vehicle.
 What a mess the thing was when they discovered it. A twisted heap of metal, the smell of
alcohol permeating it. That the driver was drunk was beyond question. It was fortunate that he
didn't take anyone with him when he dispatched himself.

However, he didn't, Chuck felt, deserve the fate he got. Chuck pried the door open, with a
generous additional push from his mind, and found the poor bastard with his neck broken, the
inflatable cushion in the steering column only partially inflated. Hell of a time for the safety bag
to malfunction. Who knew how long he had been dead.

Get his wallet , Rommel said.

Chuck looked at his companion in surprise. "His wallet?"

"Good idea," Dakota said.

"I can't do that," Chuck said firmly. "It's wrong."

"Wrong to take his wallet? Why? He's not going to need it," Dakota pointed out
matter-of-factly. "Besides, it was your idea."

"No it wasn't. It was Rommel's."

She glanced at the German shepherd, who stared back at her blandly. "Of course," she said
tonelessly. "Foolish of me. Why should I think that a good idea came from you, Chuck? All
right. Turn away so you don't have to watch."

"I can't," was the simple reply. But Chuck knew that she was right. The driver wasn't going
to need it. And these days, you got your hand on a Card wherever and however you could. So
he watched as Dakota rummaged through the corpse's pockets, pulled out his wallet, and
moments later held up a plain white card with a little flourish.

Everyone had a Card. They were issued at birth, and had taken the place of money, of
many important documents. More precisely, everyone had two CardsтАФthe one they carried
with them, and the original that was on permanent file with the Department of Identification,
from which duplicates of lost, damaged, or stolen Cards could be obtained.

Chuck could not use his Card, of course. With the government tracking him, the last thing
he wanted to do was leave a trail they could so easily trace. Instead he obtained black market
fakes wherever he could, and on one occasionтАФa very early oneтАФhad swiped one from a
soldier. But taking one off of a dead manтАж it gave him chills.

He sat in the diner now, feeling bleak and depressed. Dakota studied him for a moment
and, believing there was an implied criticism of herself, said tightly, "What would you have
preferred, huh? To waste an opportunity?"