"Wildcards - 05 - Down And Dirty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

took the lawyers a couple of months to spring him."
Brennan nodded, and to stay in his role as bewildered newcomer, he asked a
question he already knew the answer to. "So why does Fadeout want to find this
Wraith?"
Because she'd lifted Kien's private diary in the early morning hours of the
wildest Wild Car Day ever, Brennan thought, but the Werewolf evidently didn't
know that. He shrugged. "Hey, you think I'm Fadeout's confidant or something?"
Brennan nodded. He wasn't at least he tried not to be, introspective. His
memories of the past were frequently painful, but Wraith-Jennifer Maloy-had
often been on his mind since their meeting in September. It was more than the
adventure they'd shared on Wild Card Day, more than the easy comradeship and
grudging confidence between them, more than her tall, athletic-looking body.
Brennan couldn't, wouldn't, admit why, but he knew that he'd try to get himself
on the Shadow Fist task force that'd been given the job of hunting her. In that
way he'd be in position to help her if the Fists got too close.
Not, he thought, that they'd be able to use Gruber's memories to track her down.
Although Wraith had never told Brennan his name, she'd mentioned that she hadn't
trusted her fence and had, in fact, never even told him her real name.
They drove on in silence. Whiskers finally pulled over and killed the engine in
front of a three-story brownstone in the heart of Jokertown.
"Cowboy, you and Lazy Dragon help Deadhead. He can't do much on his own while
he's digesting."
Brennan took his left arm, Lazy Dragon took his right, and they dragged him
across the sidewalk and up the flight of stairs to the brownstone's entrance,
where Whiskers was already talking with one of the Egrets who'd been standing in
the foyer. They passed them on into the interior of the building, where another
Egret guard spoke briefly into a house telephone and then told them to go
upstairs. Getting Deadhead up two flights of stairs was like dragging a sack of
half-set cement, but Whiskers didn't offer to help. Another Egret nodded to them
on the third-floor landing. They went down a corridor with a threadbare carpet,
and Whiskers rapped smartly on the door at the end of the hall. A masculine
voice called out, "Come in," and Whiskers opened the door and preceded Brennan,
Lazy Dragon, and Deadhead into the room.
It was a comfortably appointed room, rather luxurious compared to what Brennan
had seen of the rest of the house. A man in his thirties, handsome,
well-dressed, and fit-looking, was standing in front of a well-stocked liquor
cart, having just fixed himself a drink.
"How did it go?"
"Fine, Fadeout, just fine."
Brennan didn't recognize him. He'd last seen him on Wild Card Day, but Fadeout
had been invisible until Wraith had bashed him on the head with a garbage can
lid and he'd fallen unconscious to the street. Brennan had had his hands full of
Egrets at the time and had only spared the fallen ace the briefest of glances.
It was evident that Fadeout also didn't recognize Brennan, who'd been masked at
the time. "Who's this?" the ace asked, nodding in Brennan's direction. "New guy
named Cowboy. He's all right."
"He'd better be." Fadeout stepped away from the cart, settled himself in a
comfortable chair nearby. "Help youself," he said, gesturing at the liquor.
Whiskers stepped forward eagerly. Brennan and Lazy Dragon turned to dump the
near-comatose Deadhead, who was now mumbling about excessive overhead and the