"Ian R. Macleod - Snodgrass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

"Yeah, but at least I don't have to sleep with him."

Cal sits down to watch me struggle through breakfast. Before Kevin, it
was another Kevin, and a million other Kevins before that, all with grazed
knuckles from the way they walk. Cal says she needs the protection even
if it means the odd bruise.

I paste freckled marge over ye Mighty White. It tastes just like the
doormat, and I should know.

"Why don't yer tell our Kev to stuff it?" I say.

She smiles and leans forward.

"Snuggle up to Doctor Winston here," I wheedle.

"You'd be too old to look after me with the clients, John," she says, as
though I'm being serious. Which I am.

"For what I'd charge to let them prod yer, Cal, yer wouldn't have any
clients. Onassis couldn't afford yer."

"Onassis is dead, unless you mean the woman." She stands up, turning
away, shaking the knots from her hair. She stares out of the window over
the mess in the sink. Cal hates to talk about her work. "It's past eight,
John," she says without looking at any clock. It's a knack she has. "Hadn't
you better get ready for this job?"




Yeah, ye job. The people at the Jobbie are always on the look out for
something fresh for Doctor Winston. They think of him as a challenge.
Miss Nikki was behind ye spit-splattered perspex last week. She's an old
hand -- been there for at least three months.

"Name's Doctor Winston O'Boogie," I drooled, doing me hunchback when
I reached the front of ye queue.



file:///G|/rah/Ian%20R.%20Macleod%20-%20Snodgrass.htm (3 of 30) [2/17/2004 10:32:55 AM]
Snodgrass - a novelette by Ian R MacLeod

"We've got something for you, Mister Lennon," she says. They always call
yer Mister or Sir here, just like the fucking police. "How would you like to
work in a Government Department?"

"Well, wow," I say, letting the hunchback slip. "You mean like a spy?"