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

contents out on the coffee table in front of them. The items included a spoon, a hypodermic needle, a rubber
hose, a Zippo lighter, and several bags of crystalline white powder.
The man on his right pulled his arm out straight and rolled up his sleeve. Davy tried to pull away, but the
man with the gun stepped up and pressed the silencer to Davy's forehead.
"Who else knows about your mission?"
Davy stared at the kit the man to his left was prepping. He had already spilled some powder into the
spoon and was melting it with the lighter. A sharp, slightly tinny odor started to fill the air.
The man holding his arm took the hose and pulled it taut around Davy's upper arm. Then, when it was
painfully tight, he grabbed Davy's hand in both of his and forced him to make a fist. Davy noticed that all
three men wore latex gloves.
"Who else knows?"
 Davy spilled his guts. He had no problem giving up Lionel after the bastard had given him up. The only
thing he didn't mention was that Lionel was on his way there.
Davy had some hope of the bastard showing upтАФnow he was hoping Lionel wore a wire, or was
leading a SWAT team. That might surprise these guys enough to get them off of him. . .
But as far as Davy ever knew, Lionel never came.


Lyaksandro Volynskji waited outside of Franklin Alexander "Davy" Jones' apartment in his Dodge Ram
quad-cab. It took twenty minutes for his men to enter, do their business, and withdraw. When the last of
them got in the truck and closed the door, Volynskji asked, "Are we safe now?"
The man stripped off a pair of latex gloves and said, "There's another man he called 'Lionel,' real name
Kareem Rashad Williams. The police are looking for him."
"Who is he to us?"
"Drug dealer, apparently a friend of Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones confided in him about the Daedalus, and Mr.
Jones believed that it was Lionel who informed the police."
Volynskji sighed. "Then we must find him, before the police do."
The Dodge Ram pulled away from the apartment building. On the side of the building facing the street,
the window to Davy's apartment was lit only by the blue phosphor glow of a television watching a dead
channel.




1.04
Wed. Feb. 25

GIDEON was sitting on the couch, watching the third episode of General Hospital he'd ever seen, when
the doorbell rang.
He made no move to answer it, he had no desire to see any reporters, and he fully intended to remain
sequestered in his house as long as his food held out. By then he hoped that the press would've backed off
a little.
He turned the volume up on the remote, but too late to miss hearing a familiar voice call out, "Detective
Malcolm."
"Damn it," Gideon whispered to himself. He turned off the television and grabbed the crutches that
leaned on the couch next to him. The doorbell chimed again and Gideon called out, "Hold on!" as he levered
himself up and began hobbling to the door.
The meeting was inevitable, but he had hoped that it might wait until he was off of disability leave.
It took a bit of maneuvering to open the front door one-handed while balancing on a crutch with his
busted arm, but he managed to swing the door open on Captain Davis, who was accompanied by a