"Floyd, John M - King Of The City" - читать интересную книгу автора (Floyd John M)

There was no answer. Somewhere far away, a train whistle blew long and mournfully.

"Boys!" he called again, more loudly now. "Get your asses out here NOW!"

Silence.

After a moment Valenti said, reassuringly: "Your friends are fine, Manny, they're just catching a little nap. That's why I was late. If you behave you'll be able to stop and pick them up on your way out." He sighed and tried to look philosophical. "Good help is getting hard to find, isn't it."

Manny Ramirez' dark face seemed to darken even further. He started to take a step forward.

"Hold it," Valenti said sharply. "Just hold it right there."

Ramirez stopped, looking uncertain.

"As long as we've started on the ground rules, let me finish them up. I would advise you to listen closely." The tall man held a hand out in front of him and wiggled his fingers. "Anytime during our little meeting here today, if I raise my hand over my head with a forefinger extended, you will be wounded. A kneecap, probably. Also if you try to run away." He paused. "If I raise my hand flat, with the palm out and all five fingers extended, you will die. Immediately. You'll also die if you make a sudden move toward me, or try to pull a weapon. Understood?"

Ramirez stood there glaring at him, chewing the thin cigar. After a moment his eyes flicked past the older man again, scanning the forest, then returned to Valenti's face. "I'll kill you for this," he said fervently.

"Maybe later, Manny. Right now let's concentrate on the present."

Ramirez was quiet for several seconds, watching the other's eyes. "What is it you want?" he blurted. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want information," Valenti said. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets now; he looked like a businessman who had decided to take a stroll through the park on his lunch break.

"Information . . . ?"

"I want a name and a place. If you give them to me you can go. You'll find your buddies in a ditch just down the path a ways, tied up and snoozing like babies. I'm afraid you'll have to load 'em into the car yourself, though."

Ramirez' face hardened. He took out his cigar and flung it aside in disgust. "You can shove it, Valenti. You're not gettin' anything from me, now or ever."

"I truly hope you don't mean that, my friend."

"Damn right I mean it. Have your man kill me if you're goin' to, I'm not tellin' you nothin'." He glanced once more up into the trees. "Do it now, if you're so damn smart. Go ahead!"

The tall man sighed. "I was afraid of this," he admitted. "The typical macho Mexican. But if you don't care about your own life, maybe you do about someone else's."

Ramirez' eyes narrowed. "What?"

"How about your brother, for instance? You wouldn't want your stubbornness to hurt him, would you?"

"What are you talkin' about --"

With a swift, smooth motion, Valenti picked the binoculars up off the rail and tossed them through the air to a startled Manny Ramirez. "See for yourself," he said.

For a moment Ramirez just stood there holding the glasses and staring at the older man doubtfully. Then, puzzled but obviously worried, he turned to the overlook and brought the binoculars to eye level.

"The railyard," Valenti said. "The north edge, behind the old packing plant."

It took Ramirez a moment to find it and get the glasses focused. When he did he squinted and leaned forward an inch or two, as if that would be enough to show him he wasn't really seeing what he thought he was seeing.