"Destroyer - 019 - Holy Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Warren)

"Shut your mouth, woman," said the man from under the hat. He turned back to the wall. "You there. You and the gook."

"Aha," said Chiun. "Gook."

"Shit," said Remo.

"You heard me. Gook. Gook. Gook."

"Aha. Aha. Aha," said Chiun. "I stand here humbly insulted. Yet enduring, for I am a man of peace. Of love. Of tranquility."

"Here we go," said Remo.

"You make this hole in the wall?" asked the man under the hat.

A long, bony finger disengaged from the tranquility of rest with the other hand and pointed accusingly at Remo.

"You did, fella, right?" said the hat to Remo.

"You have brought grief into my life," said Remo.

"You want gree-yuf? You gonna get gree-yuf," said the man under the hat, and Remo saw him put on tooled leather cowboy boots, pick up a shiny six-shot revolver from the clothes pile, and walk out of sight. Remo heard the door in the next room open and close and then heard a knock on his door.

"It's not locked," said Remo.

The man entered, six-feet-four of him, six-feet-eight of him in his boots. The gun pointed at Remo's head.

"You sumbitch, you fuck round with me and my woman, I blow yo' head off."

"You do it, Clete," shrieked the girl through the broken wall. "You down and do it. Shoot me somebody. If you love me, you'll shoot me somebody." She bobbled off the bed, her chest poppity popping up and down in front of her. She stuck her face close to the hole in the wall. Remo could smell the sickening booze on her breath.

"Which one you want first, Loretta?" said the man with the gun.

"The violence of Americans is shocking," said Chiun.

"Get the little talky gook, honey," said Loretta.

"Violence against a minority," intoned Chiun. "Whipped and scorned and abused."

"When have you ever been scorned, abused, or whipped? No Master of Sinanju has ever suffered," said Remo.

Clete cocked his gun. Chiun looked heavenward in beatific innocence. A martyr to violent racism. There was one small drawback to his suffering. As the gun cocked, ready and raised, and the finger closed on the trigger, a white plate moved at such a speed that its blur followed it and made its way underneath the hat to where Clete's mouth had been, to where Clete's cheek had been, so that now there was the hat and the top half of a face biting down on a white plate filling red with blood and the remnants of a lower jaw spread out red and bone fragments on a hairy chest. The gun dropped, unfired.

"Drat damn," said Loretta. "I never get anything I want. Clete? Clete? Clete?"

Clete went forward, clumping into the gray-carpeted floor. Around his head, the gray darkened in an ever widening pool.

"He couldn't raise it too good, neither," noted Loretta. "How 'bout you fellas, you want a piece?"

"A piece of what?" asked Chiun, who was suspicious of all Western dietary practices. He had promised Remo a real meal when they got to Sinanju, glory home of the East, pearl of the West Korea bay.