"Man Off A White Horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Myers Howard L)

from Paxton's ankles. "Stand up." Paxton stood, and Barfield guided him into the
bathroom, where he refastened his ankles and freed his wrists.
"I'm gonna close the door, and then you can take off the blindfold," he
instructed. "When you're through, put the blindfold back on and call me. Try
something funny, and there ain't enough ransom in the bank to keep you alive.
Got it?"
"Yes. Thanks very much, Friend," said Paxton.
Barfield thought a few cuss words. What kind of nut was this guy, Paxton? Acting
like he didn't have a care in the world, which was no way for a kidnap victim to
act.
Presently Paxton called him, and Barfield opened the door and returned the man
to his seat.
When they were settled down Barfield said, "You don't catch on, do you, Body?
You stand a good chance of getting conked. You dig that?"
"Of course," Paxton nodded, cheerful as ever. "As an attorney, I'm quite
familiar with the kidnap racket and its practices. I believe the general rule is
to kill one out of four victims, to keep the public aware you mean business."
"One out of three," Barfield corrected, grimly. If Paxton had said one out of
three, he would have replied one out of two. But again the victim showed no sign
of intimidation. "You figure the odds are in your favor, huh, Body?"
Paxton shrugged. "If not, everybody's got to die some time, Friend," he replied
with a mild chuckle.
"Well, if I don't hear soon that the payoff's bein' made, your time's comin'
pretty damn soon," Barfield glowered. He looked at his watch and blinked. Five
hours had passed since Stony Stan and the other guys had brought Paxton in. He
ought to have heard from Stony long before now.
Paxton seemed to realize that. "I'm afraid I have enemies as well as friends,"
he said. "That could delay the payoff."
"Friends?" grunted Barfield. "What about your family?"
"No family. The ransom will be collected from my friends, or business associates
might be more accurate."
Barfield frowned. Stony Stan never told him more than he had to know about a
job, which was damn near nothing. Barfield's job was to baby-sit the victims,
and then drive them to the release or conk-out point. So maybe this wasn't an
unusual job, so far as he knew. But it seemed risky to expect a payoff from a
guy's buddies instead of his relatives.
"What kind of line you in?" he asked.
"I'm an attorney, as I think I mentioned. Actually, my position is general
secretary of a union."
"Big operator, huh?" glowered Barfield. "I got a hunch you're goin' to be the
one out of three, Body." He stared at the blindfolded man in resentful silence
for a while. A damned union boss, and Barfield couldn't even get into a union as
a member!
"Which union?" he finally asked.
"American Bar Association."
That didn't win any sympathy from Barfield. He knew several barkeeps, and
thought most of them were jerks.
"Your friends better come through pretty damn quick," he said.

After a silence Paxton asked, "Do you know you talk in your sleep?"