"Spider Robinson - Distraction" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

empty pack. "A real rich guy."
"Or a real rich broad, or both. Probably old. And so rich they don't give a shit
what the new yuppie neighbors think of their scraggy lawn."
"And you're sure they're not in there now? For a second there I could of swore I
saw somethin' move at one of the windows."
"Kid, I been casin' this block three nights running. There's no car in front of the
place or in the alley behind it. There's newspapers and fliers piled on the porch and
mail spillin' out of the mailbox. The only sign of life in the whole place is a light
inside that goes on at sundown and goes off at dawn. So what do you think?"
Thomas grinned. "I think we're half a block from Fat City. How long do we
wait?"
"Let's give it until twoтАФanother hour or so. A lot of these yuppie jerks stay up
late doin' that on-the-line bullshit with each other on their computers."
Thomas grinned again. "Imagine payin' thousands of bucks to shoot the shit with
strangers? All they gotta do is go down to Granville Street, for Christ's sake."
"Not safe enough for a yuppie. Hell, I wouldn't talk to a stranger on Granville
Street."
"Unless she had a real short skirt on," Tho-mas said, still grinning.
Angel snorted. "Kid, you not only don't know nothin', you don't even suspect
nothin'. You mess with a street hooker, you might as well marry Lorena Bobbit and
get it over with."
Thomas's grin vanished. "Aw, Angel, I was justтАФ"
"Goddammit, you say my name one more time, I'm gonna tattoo it on your
forehead with this cigarette!"
"Not so loud! Jesus. I'm sorry, okay?" Thomas drew on his smoke to cover his
embarrassment. "So where are we gonna chill for an hour in this neighborhood, Mr.
Mastermind?"
Angel pointed south, to the forests of the University Endowment Land a few
blocks dis-tant. "One of those hiking trails."

A boring hour later, the pair emerged from the woods onto 16th Avenue, walked
north again, and turned at the firehouse.
"How do we go in?" Thomas Two Bears asked. "Front or back?"
"See them advertising fliers there on the porch, with all the newspapers? You get
caught on that porch at 2 A.M., you could always try and make like you just put a
flier there. You get caught in the backyard, end of story. Besides, I can see the
front-door locks from the street, and they're candy. We'll only be exposed for a
matter of seconds. Just stay cool."
"Man, I'm cool," Thomas said.
Angel looked at him. "You're about as cool as Regis Philbin."
"Who?"
"Forget it. Now don't look around, all right? Try and act like you're an invited
guest, like I told you."
They left the sidewalk at the target house, climbed three cracked cement stairs,
strode boldly up the walkway across the scruffy lawn, and climbed eight more stairs
to the porch. The curtains behind the big picture window were translucent, and that
light was on somewhere deep inside the house; it was just possible for Thomas to
see into the dark living room while Angel worked on the locks. "Far out, man: looks
like he's got a real nice sound system." He squinted, and frowned. "Lot of fuckin'
books, too: he must be a prof from the university. I like rippin' off teachers; a lot of