"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 10 - Cold Streets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

"How's that?" I asked.
"A smart man would want to finish the job quickly. Keeping a person confined
against their will is a difficult and consuming task. Delay increases the risk
of discovery. This fellow makes me think he saw a film about the topic and took
it as a pattern to follow. Amateurs are unpredictable, more dangerous. I don't
hold much hope for Sarah."
It was rare for Escott to be pessimistic, but he was too well aware of the
seriousness of this job, and the pressure ate steadily at him. Lean already, he
lost weight, and from the hollow cast of his eyes, I was sure he wasn't
sleeping. If Sarah came to harm or had already been killed, he would carry it
the rest of his life.
But today the last post brought instructions. Escott phoned me just at sunset. I
hurried over, again sneaking into the house.
In a plain envelope was a blurred, inexpertly shot photo of Sarah Gladwell
staring in wide-eyed confusion at the camera, holding a two-day-old copy of the
Tribune. The background consisted of churned snow and the white clapboard side
of a building, with no other clue to her location. A block-printed card stated
calling the police would get her throat cut. To bring home the point, the bottom
corner bore a large red smear. It could have been ink, but I'd instantly picked
up bloodsmell. No matter whether the blood came from Sarah or not, the effect on
her mother was the same. She'd shown an astonishing amount of restraint so far,
but she didn't have much control left. Tears streamed, but for the moment, she
held off breaking down completely.
"We'll get her back, ma'am," I said and hoped like hell I'd be right.
No way of setting the odds for that, but they were bad. Unless the kidnapper
wore a mask, the unblindfolded Sarah would have seen him. Maybe he thought a
girl with her limited mental state posed no threat. Otherwise, he would kill
her. He may have done so right after taking the picture, but there was no point
saying that aloud to her mother.
Fortunately for me, he liked working after dark. Soon after I arrived, the
hissing voice was on the line with directions and more threats. Escott put on
his chauffeur's cap.
The first time we'd made a run, he'd told Vivian that my job was to trail the
kidnapper from the drop. She'd objected, even though my sudden inexplicable
appearances in her home with all the doors and windows bolted convinced her of
my talent for getting around unobserved. This still wasn't enough for her to
risk Sarah's life. Escott and I had exchanged a look. From that point forward,
I'd pretend to stay behind but would vanish into the car, and off we'd all roll.
And this time, finally, it turned out to be the end of the line, one way or
another.
"Wish it was closer in," said Ralph, sounding impatient. "I wanna cut free and
leave. Is he still there?"
"Yeah," said Vinzer. "Right with us."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"That crap don't matter. You just do the job."
"He's doing the job. Job's done. Know what I'm gonna do with my share?"
"You only talk about it fifty times a day."
"I'm going to Miami," Ralph continued, ignoring him.
"Gonna get one of those fancy places on the beach, buy a joint with some
good-looking girls, and have them do all the work. Have fun with 'em any time I