"Charles L. Harness-George Washington Slept Here" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

"Monday morning, when the first two loads of girders go up into the west cantilever tower-- 'George'
they call it-- ten men will be at the top waiting with rivet guns. My client believes the tower will crash as
soon as those elevators start up, and that those men will be killed in the crash. She requests that the men
stay off both towers-- east and west-- until the elevators move on George. After that, you can do
anything you like."
"Huh? You mean, the men on both George and Martha wait until the girders go up on George?"
"That's it."
"That's all she wants?"
"Plus the thirty thou, of course. At this point, she's simply trying to save lives. Both towers may be
involved because of internal strains in the underlying continental plate."
 "If George falls, you mean," said Badging.
"When George falls," said Potts firmly.
"Oh, God. You too?"
"Me too."
Badging shrank back in his chair. Then he looked at the mythic leather case, and back to Potts. He
exhaled slowly. Potts relaxed.
Badging rubbed his chin. "Insanity aside, Potts, I'd have to persuade the on-site engineers. They'll
howl, you know. They'll lose fifteen or twenty minutes, getting the men up there after the beams. No
rational explanation. There'll have to be pay-offs. Not sure I can swing it."
Potts smiled. "We have faith in you, Badging." He pushed the case toward the other.
His host laid possessory hands on it. "I'll make out a check."
"Do we want to burden the record with a piece of paper?"
"Oh. Ah, no, of course not. Cash. You want it now?"
"That would be fine."
Badging went over to his wall safe and came back with three bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills.
"You want to count it?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Badging. You want a receipt?"
"No need for that. I am holding the bag."
Potts smiled. "Why, so you are. Got time for an anecdote?"
"Well, all right."
"It's about that very bag. Outrageous rumor has it that the Continental Congress gave the bag
toWashington when he bade farewell to the army at Annapolis, in seventeen eighty-three. I imagine a
thorough examination by a competent antiquarian would show the leather is no more than twenty or thirty
years old. Those gold initials are probably actually for some chap named Gerald Whipple, or something
like that. Are you all right, Mr. Badging?"
"Yes," said his host faintly. "It was listed as missing after his death at Mount Vernon in seventeen
ninety-nine."
"What? What was missing?"
"Nothing. Nothing."
Potts arose and pushed his chair under the table. "Oh, there's one thing..."
Badging looked up. His mouth twisted into harsh lines. "The catch," he said bitterly. "Now we get it."
"The catch," agreed Potts amiably. "I'm informed the coins carry a curse. I promised Sena I would
mention it. If the Rock collapses, the coins vanish." He smiled broadly.
They looked at each other. After a moment Badging smiled too. Then he began to chuckle. Then he
leaned back and guffawed. Tears ran down his cheeks. Finally the laughter died away. Ignoring his guest,
Badging leaned forward and clasped the leather case to his chest and began to shower kisses on it.
"I'll let myself out," whispered Oliver Potts.
***