"John E. Stith - All for Naught" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stith John E)

getting out of the midnight-blue van, guns in their hands.
Without taking time to figure out why this was happening, and
what they were after, she knew this wasn't a typical Monday. She
twisted the wheel and goosed the engine. She almost mowed down
the red-headed man as she raced around the van, knocking trash
cans into the street.
The two men hopped into the van as Annette's car sped away.
The driver flooded the engine as he tried to start it. The
engine just spun slower and slower as the smell of gasoline
filtered into the van and the squealing of Annette's car tires
faded into the background.
***
Nick pushed through the revolving door into his office
building lobby.
"Wanna buy a paper?" asked the newspaper vending machine.
The machine's tone of voice gave the impression of hawking some
illicit thrill.
"Sure," Nick said.
"That'll be six bucks."
Nick ran his credit card through the slot on top of the box.
The machine's face opened, and, with a practiced motion, Nick
snatched a paper just in time, as the lid snapped down very fast,
like a bear trap.
"Have a nice day," said the vending machine.
As Nick waited for the elevator, a teenage boy in a striped
shirt approached the coffee vending machine.
"I wouldn't bother, if I were you," Nick said.
The teenager ignored him and said to the machine, "Coffee,
black."
Nick shrugged. As the elevator doors opened, the vending
machine squirted coffee all over the kid's shirt and pants.
***
In Nick's unoccupied office, the phone began to ring. The
phone answerer clicked on, and Nick's voice said, "Nick Naught
private investigations. Leave a message. Unless you're with a
collection agency." Beep.
"This is the Internal Revenue Service, Mr. Naught.
Yesterday you missed your third audit appointment. Be in our
office at two today, or a warrant will be issued for your
arrest."
The phone answerer clicked off only seconds before Nick
entered the office. He put the paper down on the desk and looked
wistfully at the large South Seas island poster on his office
wall. Finally he pressed a button on the phone answerer.
"Sorry," the answerer said. "No messages."
Nick sat down at his desk. The desk clock read 2:30 AM. He
shook his head and pushed the clock slowly over the edge, where
it landed with a clunk in his wastebasket.
***
Annette watched the elevator floor indicator stop. She