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

"Hey!" Ralph called after him. "How 'bout we have some fun first? Work out the
cramp from that sittin' an' drivin'."
"Fun?" Dugan slowly returned. They stood almost in the doorway, perhaps looking
in at Sarah. "What on earth do you mean?"
"You know."
The dawn came. "Are you mad? She's just a child."
"So? Her body's full grown. Female is female."
"That's disgusting."
"She won't even notice, Ponti's stuff has her out cold."
"Why not wait until she's dead, then? The effect would be about the same."
"I ain't kiddin' here. You gonna stop me?"
"Just make it quick. I am not cleaning this pigsty on my own."
Ralph laughed, short and ugly, came in, shut the door. Even in this state where
most sounds were muted to me, I could hear his breathing. The boy was worked up
plenty. Must have been the influence of the cash that put him in the mood. I
floated close as he moved toward the cot, materializing in time to see his pants
drop. Not a pleasant sight. They remained at half-mast after I clocked him from
behind with the blackjack, catching him before he made a noisy crash to the
floor. I wanted to put in a strategic kick to discourage future amorous ideas,
one brutal enough to last him a lifetime, but that could wait. Such lessons
worked better when a man was conscious. Instead, I used his belt to tie his
hands and wasn't careful about leaving slack for circulation.
One down, one to go in the house. Dugan made an easy target. He'd begun cleanup
in the front room and never saw me coming, never knew what hit him. Brains of
the outfit or not, he dropped just as fast. He wore suspenders, but they served
just as well as a belt for tying him up. Better. I had plenty left over to loop
his ankles together, leaving him trussed tighter than a Christmas turkey.
Two to go, outside. I hurried past empty rooms, pausing in a dark kitchen to
look out a window. The yard job, whatever it was, had taken Vinzer and Ponti out
of sight, but I heard thumping and hammering. They were making too much rumpus
to hear the back door open; I went through the normal way. From the high porch I
was able to see an outhouse off to one side, what was left of it, anyway. The
two men were busy dismantling it by lantern light. The roof was off, lying in
dirty churned snow. They were busy pulling the walls and plank seat apart. The
wood was old, easy prey for their mallets and crowbars.
I couldn't understand right away why the hell they were doing such work. Just as
well my mind doesn't go to places like that without some effort. It took a
minute, but realization finally came. We were smack in the middle of winter. The
ground was too hard to dig a hole for a grave, so why not use one already dug?
They intended to drop Sarah's body into a pit where it would never be found,
probably filling the rest in with the broken wood. If they left the intact roof
on top of the mound, people would guess what had stood there and avoid the area.
Dugan or one of the others had some brains to have thought this up. No heart,
but lots of brains. I felt like beating them till gray juice leaked out their
ears.
Taking on two surprised men while I was this pissed off was effortless. The hard
part was holding myself in check so as not to kill them. I'd spared the
near-rapist, Ralph; I could spare these undertakers. For what they'd planned and
what they'd put Vivian and Sarah through I wanted them to live long, miserable
lives in a federal lockup.