"Christopher Hinz - Paratwa 03 - The Paratwa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hinz Christopher)

"Faquod," urged Gillian. "Where is he?"

The smuggler's lips began to quiver, uncontrollably, until finally the words exploded from his mouth.

"You're a Paratwa!" His eyes panned back and forth between Gillian and Buff. "You're tways!"

Buff laughed. "And you're a shitpile with maggots for neurons! Now talk! We want to find Faquod!"

Ten feet away, Saw-beard started to inch forward. Gillian glared at him. It was enough of a warning.
Saw-beard froze in midstride.

"Don't want to die," whimpered Impleton.

"Faquod!" shouted Buff. "Where is he?"

Gillian pressed the Cohe's needle tip deep into a fold of flesh on the smuggler's neck, until it almost
broke the skin.

"Fin Whirl in centersky," babbled Impleton. "Fin WhirlтАФ tomorrow night. FaquodтАФhe is always there.
He never misses it."

Gillian glanced at Buff. "You know where this place is?"

"Yeah, I know where Fin Whirl is." A deep frown settled on her face. "Where else?" she asked
Impleton. "Where else can we find him?"

"Don't know," whispered Impleton, his eyes begging. "It's truth! Fin WhirlтАФthat's all I know."

Gillian leaned down, pressed his mouth against the smuggler's ear. "If you're lying, I'll come back for
you. I'll slice off your head and put it in my trophy case."

"Fin Whirl," cried the smuggler. "It's truthтАФI swear!"

"Fin Whirl's a big place," pressed Buff. "Where exactly?"

"He has a private boothтАФBS-four."

Gillian believed him. He nodded to Buff, and she laid her palm on Impleton's forehead. The smuggler
jerked once. His eyes glazed over, and he fell forward into her arms, unconscious. She let him slide off
her body onto the damp paving and opened her palm, exposing the tiny white neuropad attached to the
skin. She crooked her finger at Saw-beard.

He came quickly, almost eagerly, obviously finding a few hours of deep sleep via synaptic scrambling
preferable to any further encounter with Gillian's Cohe wand.
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