"Dean Ing - Soft Targets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ing Dean)

to find him slurping coffee from a foam cup in the hall. ThenтАФinsultinglyтАФhe was ushered b
into his own office.
"I am prepared to discount the entire lot of four hundred microprocessors, Mr. Trnka, by fif
per cent," Pelletier said blandly.
"I need four hundred units, twenty of the belts. And I shall take delivery of four hundred,"
smaller man lied. "With such a high failure rate we must test them all. Do you agree?" A glum
from the fat man. "It is my intention to pay you in cash for half of them now, discounted as
suggest, and to test them. You, meanwhile, will test the restтАФall of themтАФand man-ufactu
sufficient number that I will have," he paused, closed his eyes and said as though to a child, "
hundred microprocessors."
Pelletier's mental circuits flickered. Eighty-five hundred dollars in the raw, today, and an e
amount to come later. He debated the ways in which he could profit from this frightening
Czech. "I could have them in a week," he offered.
"Tuesday," the man said. Pelletier did not like even a little piece of the smile that accompanied
ultimatum.
"I will do what I can." To see the last of you, he added to himself.
The attache case opened and the visitor counted out eighty-five brown Elizabeths. He pus
them across the desk. "You will want to count them."
"I trust you," said Pelletier, his voice quaver-ing as he stroked the cash. He watched the swar
little man walk to a small sedan, the attache case burdened with nearly two hun
micro-processors. Then Pelletier counted the money. Next he replayed the telephone call.
number was that of a fly-for-hire outfit located at Island Airport just south of Toronto. McEvoy
not seem to know Trnka well, and Slip Threesuggested a boat rather than an aircraft. Pelletier k
little of such things and did not much care. It was enough to know that Trnka would be good
another eighty-five hundred, after which Pel-letier could pay his respects to the police in return f
certain latitude they allowed him in business. Trnka was a fool, thought Pelletier, to deal directl
cash. Even though his micro-processors were very, very smart.
`Trnka' did not assume that Pelletier was a fool. He drove directly to the new bridge over
Western Gap and onto the seaplane slips on To-ronto Island. At one o'clock he found the de-cr
old Republic Seabee wallowing in its slip, its high wing seesawing gently. The amiable curmudg
pumping water from the fuselage bilge turned out to be Ian McEvoy, and soon they were sha
lunch at a counter with a view. The little man could spot anyone approaching the aircraft, the b
to learn if Pelletier really wanted his anonymous cash more than he wanted to inform. He had
Pelletier tremble like a pointer while raking the money in; but he had not come this far by trus
nuances.
 McEvoy accepted the stranger at face value: a sinewy little Czech given to expensive clothes
the long side of thirty and able to pay for eccentric notions. Between bites of his sandwich, McE
said, "Sure she'll get you and the lady to Lake Chautauqua, Mr. Trnka. It's maybe an hour's f
time, but there isn't much to do when you get there." He brightened. "For a little more I could
you to the Finger Lakes. They're in New York State too. A little more action."
A pause, as though genuinely pondering the idea; as though there really was a woman. Then, "
humors me, Mr. McEvoy, and I shall humor her. She tells me that Lake Chautauqua is a g
location for the film and I need to take some footage along the shoreline for study. You are fam
with cine cameras?"
"Just home movie stuff." McEvoy held a hunk of bread to his face. "Clickety-click, and off t
developed. Nothin' like an honest-to-God movie. You mean you aren't interested in land-ing at al
"We hadn't considered it. Why?"
A shrug of the narrow shoulders. "Just makes it simpler. If we land, I hafta notify Customs w
I file my flight plan. They say it's recip-rocal clearance, I say it's a hassle." A twinkle in the m
blue eyes as McEvoy studied his client's tailoring. "But you don't look like a shit-runner to me."