"S. Andrew Swann - Zimmerman's Algorithm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swann S Andrew)

Otherwise, he might be as dead as that FBI agent. But the whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth.
Davy thought of that phrase, looked at what Amber Waves was doing on the screen, and started
giggling. His beer dropped empty next to seven others on the floor by his end of the couch. He didn't stop
laughing until a sour belch gripped him and tore the laugh apart.
"Oh, fuck." Davy raised his palms to his eyes and rubbed. He felt a wave of vertigo telling him that he
was far more drunk than he'd given himself credit for. He shook his head, felt the woozy sensation of blood
sloshing from one side of his brain to the other, and decided he needed to get out another six-pack to take
the edge off.
He got up and staggered to the kitchen.
He should have known it was too good to be true. A hundred grand just to move this Daedalus
computer thing out of the office building, north. Of course, that meant hijacking a refrigerated semitrailer,
but that was Davy's specialtyтАФsemis and heavy construction equipment. He'd boosted everything from
backhoes to garbage trucks. He had already picked out his transportation when they called off the job.
If it hadn't been over the phone, he probably would have slit the throat of the guy who told him. He'd
like to cap the bastard, even though it was now all over the news that the Daedalus pickup was some
goddamn Fed ambushтАФone he could have ended up in.
Davy leaned against the side of the refrigerator and opened it.
The thing was completely empty except for a single Chinese takeout container laying on its side, leaking
sauce that had turned black and smelled like a dead rat he'd found once in a prison John. He needed to go
on a beer run.
He opened the freezer door. Inside, sitting on a six-inch-thick layer of ice, were two ice trays and an
old frozen orange juice carton. Davy took out the cardboard cylinder, flipped off the metal lid with his
thumb, and shook out a roll of bills on the counter in front of him.
He stared at the wad of twenties for a few minutes, trying to get his eyes to focus. Need to do a job
soon. Running out of cash.
He decided that he probably should go turn his cell phone and his beeper back on. He'd been out of it a
little too long. He needed his regular customers to be able to reach him, or he was going to have go back to
boosting carsтАФwhich didn't pay nearly enough to support him.
Back in the living room, Amber was moaning to a rhythmic soundtrack as Davy made his way to the
end table where he had tossed his phone and his beeper.
He turned the beeper's sound back on, and looked at it to see what messages he'd missed.
Fifteen times, someone had left the number for The Zodiac. He knew the number, he'd taken calls
there himself. Somehow, he knew it was Lionel calling. The little shit was in some sort of trouble. He
couldn't think of anyone else who'd be calling his beeper twice a day from a strip club.
Oh, fuck, Davy thought. What's gotten up his ass?
He fumbled out the cell phone and walked back toward the center of the room. He swayed a little as
he waited for someone to pick up. On the television, Amber Waves undulated under a scrolling list of
computer-generated credits.
"Zodiac, Renny speakingтАФ"
"It's Davy, Lionel there?"
"Wait a mo, manтАФ" In the background Davy could hear seventies disco music blaring, and people
shouting. He heard Renny shouting Lionel's name.
After a few minutes, he heard Lionel's voice. "Where the fuck you been?"
"Me? What's gotten into you, my man? You living at The Zodiac now?"
"Damn close. I need to hit you up for some cashтАФ"
Davy shook his head and stumbled back toward the couch. He half sat, half fell, back into his seat.
"Shit. You think I'm made of money? I ain't your momma, I'm not here to bail you out of every tight spot
you get into."
"Look, the cops are looking for me, I haven't been able to get to my apartment since I saw you last. I've
been crashing atтАФ"