"M. John Harrison - Suicide Coast" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison John M)

get them to lay out three grand for the frame of an ATB.тАЭ

He thought for a moment. Then he said: тАЬWe might do something with
the women.тАЭ

тАЬThe good ones are French.тАЭ

тАЬEven better.тАЭ

I gathered the stuff together and put it away.

тАЬIтАЩm off then,тАЭ I said.

тАЬYou still got the 190?тАЭ

I nodded.

тАЬTake care in that thing,тАЭ he said.

тАЬI will.тАЭ
 тАЬFocke Wolf 190,тАЭ he said. тАЬHey.тАЭ

тАЬItтАЩs a Mercedes,тАЭ I said.

He laughed. He shook his head.

тАЬFocke Wolf, Mercedes, no one drives themselves anymore,тАЭ he
said. тАШYou mad fucker.тАЭ

He looked round his office тАФa dusty metal desk, a couple of posters
with the MAX logo, a couple of PCs. He said: тАЬNo one comes in here in
person anymore. You ever hear of the modem?тАЭ

тАЬOnce or twice,тАЭ I said.

тАЬWell theyтАЩve invented it now.тАЭ

I looked around too.

тАЬOne day,тАЭ I said, тАЬthe poor wankers are going to want back what you
stole from them.тАЭ

тАЬCome on. They pissed it all away long before we arrived.тАЭ

As I left the office he advised:

тАЬKeep walking the walk, Mick.тАЭ

I looked at my watch. It was late and the MAX premises were in ECI.
But I thought that if I got a move on and cut up through Tottenham, I could