"Miller, Kevin James - The Taking Of Martha Lorrimar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Kevin James)

The Taking Of Martha Lorimar
by Kevin James Miller

From behind, Bo grabbed the girl from Toland's office. Girl? She looked ancient. Maybe in her thirties, bordering on forty. She was supposed to be the secretary and she was supposed to know the codes to get to the offshore accounts no one was supposed to know about.
She was big. Not Alice Terellie from sophomore year in high school big--and not Aunt Linda with the great chili and brownie recipes big. Just big.
Bo pulled over into the parking lot of a convenience store that was supposed to be open twenty-four hours but barely made it to eighteen. He looked at the graffiti of the fat, grinning spider that was under the store window, just below where he could see the stacked newspapers, inside the store.
He heard unseen crickets outside complain about the hot night.
Bo waited for her bawling to quiet down to moaning and then to whimpering.
Then he got J.T. on the cellular.
"Good evening. Is this Codename Mad Dog?"
"What's this 'Codename Mad Dog' crap, Bo? It's J.T. Did you grab Toland's girl or didn't you?"
"This crap is 'cause she's right here in the van, so I'm not using your name. And we gotta talk about the grab."
The girl said, "Who were you supposed to grab? I'm--"
"Hang on, Codename Mad Dog." Bo put the cell phone down and got the .45 out of the glove compartment. He put in the ammo clip with as much force as he could.
"You."
"Yes?"
"What was that sound?"
"You loading a gun."
"Then shut up." Bo got back on the phone. "OK. Codename Mad Dog."
"Look, don't call me anything," J.T. said. "OK, Bo?"
"What did you say about Toland's girl once? You remember that one meeting?"
"What damn meeting? We sat down a hundred times on this!"
"The third one. In Tony's."
There was a pause from the other end of the line.
"That she's little and blond," J.T. finally said.
Bo looked at his big captive and her long, brown hair. She looked like somebody who would shop for a sale on shower curtains. The cotton, tape, and blue bandanna Bo had over her eyes ruined that image, as did the fact that Bo also had her hands tied behind her back.
"This one ain't little and ain't blond," Bo finally said over the phone.
"Oh crap. Bo, ask her what her name is."
"What good would that do? I'm not supposed to know the name of Toland's girl. Need to know, and I don't need to. In the plan," Bo said.
"Christ!" J.T.'s sigh rattled over the end of the line. "Bo, quitting screwing around and get her name! I, of course, know the name of the right girl! Let's see if you have the right one!"
Bo pulled the phone away again and talked to his captive.
"What's your name, honey?"
"I thought I was supposed to shut up," the girl said.
"Your name!"
"Martha Lorimar."
Bo got back on the cell phone.
"She says her name is--"
"I heard. Damn it! That ain't the right one!"
"Well, what do I do with her?"
J.T. gave Bo his orders.
On his way to where he was supposed to shoot her, Bo stopped at Tony's. It was past one in the morning by then, and Tony's was closed, but Tony always opened for his friends.
"I'm leaving for a few minutes," Bo said. "I'm locking this van. You can scream if you want, but you know this town. There ain't anybody around. This is the suburbs."
Bo put the special knock on the front door of Tony's. Two quick raps, then five slow ones, then eight quick raps. He heard the lock snapping open from the other side.
Tony swung the door open. No matter what time of time Bo saw Tony, he always wore a dark suit and smoked a cigarette.
Tony, Bo guessed, was maybe fifty. But his voice sounded like he stole it from a man about eighty.
Tony smiled, flashing yellow teeth.
"Come in, Bo." The grin broadened. "This isn't a safe neighborhood, with disreputable characters like us around."
The place wasn't much. It was just a bar, a couple of tables, and a jukebox, but the jukebox was as big as a truck. Bo didn't know where Tony lived. He always was in this little place of business.
"Sit, Bo."
"OK."