"Hennessey, Mike - Dan Healey - The Screwdriver Solution" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hennessey Mike)

In semi-darkness now as the flash clattered to the floor, I battered into him, knees, elbows, fists and feet, thrusting the sharp-pointed screwdriver upwards to the point where I hoped his throat would be.

I heard a kind of oozing sound, like "Guh-h-h-h," as I drove the screwdriver home. When I felt it hit bone and he sagged, I knew he was already dead. His body jerked involuntarily and a couple of shots went into the floor.

I dropped him and backed off, recovered the flashlight and watched him twitch out what was left of his life on the basement floor. I kicked the gun into the corner.

I left him and hurried upstairs, ignoring the ringing phone, the blare of the bullhorn. I ripped the gag off the boy.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yes sir."

"He didn't--you know--touch you or anything?"

"No, sir. He hit me a couple of times, but I'm okay."

"Good. Let's get out of here."

I had him untied by this time, and we walked out into the searchlights that had been turned back on. The boy held me tightly by my right hand. I held my other hand over my face, as if shielding my eyes from the bright lights, but really keeping anyone from seeing me. It was best if as few as possible knew of my arrangement with Mac.

Mac came forward and took the boy by the hand and looked at me.

"The shots?"

"Nothing. Wild."

"Is Lester...?"

"Yeah. Something got stuck in his throat."

I told Mac about it, quietly, so the kid couldn't hear.

"We'll fix it," Mac said. "No way to take a weapon in, so you had to make do. Like I said--a righteous kill. You okay, by the way?"

"I'm fine. A touch of after-shock, is all. My knowledge of electricity helped."

"I bet."

"True. He didn't know an ohm from a watt."

"What?"

"Yeah," I said.

Mac shrugged and passed me my Glock and harness. "Come on kid," he said, putting a big hand on the boy's shoulder. "You got people waiting for you over here. Don't waste time schmoozing with the hired help."

The kid said, "Thank you, mister," and I waved a hand as if I did this sort of thing ten times a day.

Then I faded off into the darkness, wondering if I should go home and change before going to Liz's. To hell with it, I thought, she always said she liked a man in uniform.