"Dean Ing - Silent Thunder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ing Dean)

No, sir, said Martin; because he doesn't. Consider us privately funded, and please don't
imagine that we're some kind of radical death squad. Where due process is concerned
you can think of us as a life squad. We've all been professionals in one agency or
another. But someone botched the job badly for Mr. Parker. We don't believe in
coincidence. Somebody left Mr. Parker unprotected.

You'd think, Bowden said, a man in my position would have some muscle of his own he
could call on.

No sir, beyond your Bureau of Intelligence and Research. What I think is, all your men
but one could be yours, and you'd still be in trouble. Same with Defense, Treasury, and
Interior. It's a bitch, he said, smiling as Bowden turned a vexed glance on him. That's
why I'm here, sir.

Bowden nodded and remembered to wave a thumbs-up toward the men on the river
bank before he tried another cast. Why haven't you simply gone to the President about
the problems with Walt Kalvin?

Why haven't you, Mr. Secretary?

Bowden's laugh was short and mirthless. Good point. We don't know what else Dick
Parker was hinting about to the press, and he didn't see fit to confide in me with it. First
damned thing Harry Rand would do is call good old Walt Kalvin in and ask him.

Exactly. Both men glanced across the shallow river as another fisherman played a hefty
trout. Better reel in and let me change flies, Mr. Secretary. It could look odd if you don't
get a strike.

By God, that's right, Bowden said. Why haven't I?

Something I smeared on the fly, Martin said, and laughed as Bowden cursed. Figured we
needed to concentrate on business.

Martin selected a fat black-and-yellow fly from the assortment stuck into his shapeless
hat as Bowden retrieved the end of his line. This McGinty should get you some action,
sir.

So far I haven't heard what other kind of action I can expect, Bowden said.

You may not believe this, sir, but we really do believe in the system. I was told to ask
you for a decision. Because of Mr. Parker, it's your decision? and whatever you say,
believe me, we will do.

That smacks of power I'm not sure I want, but ask away, Bowden said, holding a scarlet
and black Royal Coachman fly that seemed suspiciously oily and, even after it's dunking,
exuded an unpleasant musk.

Mr. Parker was a computer hacker; a hobby of his, said Martin, running the loop of the
new fly onto mono-filament leader. If he had anything on Kalvin that was important