"Anthony H Stewart - The Loser" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stewart Anthony H)

THE LOSER
By
A.H.Stewart

Jimmy Walters woke up in a cold sweat. He blinked an eye to wash away a sweaty droplet, trying to forget the nightmare. McMann's henchmen were after him. Bullets singed his flesh as he ran down endless, smoky dark alleys. He heard footsteps coming closer and closer, and he felt the sting of bullet hitting his flesh. He sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply, trying to forget the horror.

He took a shower to wash himself clean of the memory. Safe house. It sounded good. Jimmy got dressed and went downstairs. Taggart James, a local Sheriff's deputy and his protector sat slouched against the couch, watching TV. The deputy stood, brushing lint off his brown polyester suit.

"Ready to rock and roll, partner?"

Jimmy grimaced. He had spent a week with Taggart, listening with false patience as he rambled on about politics, and how he planned to run against the present sheriff in the next election. That's what the city needed - a damn cowboy for sheriff. Right.

"Crap, Taggart. All I'm ready for is to get as far away from McMann as possible. What's this about going to Utah? I asked for Mexico, at least."

Taggart continued to chew a big wad of tobacco.

"That's Deputy Taggart to you, asshole. You're lucky not to be in the cross-bar hotel playin' drop the soap."

"And you want me to be a farmer? A farmer? That's stupid. I've never been off concrete my whole damn life."

"Shove it, pard. Let's go."

Loan shark David McMann owned the entire south side of town. Every vice, every drug deal, every piece of illegal business went through his chubby fingers. Jimmy had been McMann's closest confidant, but he had betrayed him.

It was a matter of survival. It had started as a crisis of conscience. Jimmy had reached a point that some things were really bothering him. When his brother died of a drug overdose and Jimmy found out he had bought the dope from McMann, something within him snapped. Slowly he gathered evidence, cracking McMann's computer system - a system that he himself had set up. He had gone to the authorities, and now the D.A. was sure he was about to put an end to McMann's empire.

At ten o'clock that morning Taggart and K.C. Davidson, a detective on the city squad, escorted Jimmy into court. The courtroom's noise increased threefold and the judge pounded his gavel as if he were trying to break the desk. McMann, seated at the defense table between his two lawyers, glared at Jimmy as he took the witness stand. Jimmy felt damp all over.

He was on the witness stand three days. All the time he did his best to avoid McMann's piercing gaze. He explained, point by point, procedures he went through to find the incriminating evidence. Jimmy was on the stand so long his rear end had gone to sleep, and the jury looked like they were ready to knock off themselves.

The lead defense attorney, a short, dark haired man, looked like he was barely out of law school but he proved his mettle as he hammered away at Jimmy in cross examination. Jimmy hemmed and hawed as he attempted to explain himself. The lawyer knew computers front and back. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally was dismissed.

The feeling didn't last long. Slowly, witness by witness, the prosecution's case began to unravel. Jimmy himself was discredited when the attorney brought out an earlier case where a former employer accused him of breaking into their computers. Although there was no proof, the attorney made sure it sounded damning to his character. The crowning blow came when the judge disallowed the computer evidence. Jimmy looked at the faces of the jury and saw only growing disinterest.

The jury was out only two hours. Not guilty. Taggart James grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder as they exited the courtroom.

"Walters, you must be a loser. That's all I can say."

Jimmy watched as McCann left, being patted on the back by smiling well-wishers. He felt a queasy lump in the pit of his stomach.

"We had a deal, Taggart. You promised to get me out of town. Maybe Salt Lake City won't be so bad this time of year."

They entered Davidson's office. The broad shouldered cop was seated at his desk, sharpening pencils. He opened his desk drawer.

"Well you're shit outta luck, Jimmy boy."

He pulled out his wallet and laid down a twenty.

"There's cab fare to the airport," Davidson said. "You'll have to supply the rest."