"Westlake, Donald E as Stark, Richard - Parker 14 - Slayground 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Westlake Donald E)

It seemed unlikely, it seemed damn unlikely. Unless they thought he didn't know they were there. But even so -- All right, say that's their plan, say they're waiting, they don't figure to come in at all. What does that mean, how does it change things?

It doesn't change them at all. Because he wasn't going to go out, and sooner or later -- sometime tonight it would have to be -- they'd understand that he wasn't going out, and then they'd understand that they were going to have to come in.

Parker nodded to himself, thinking about it. His expression was flat, bleak. He was going to have to be patient, and sit here, and wait for them out there to understand the situation.

He waited.

Ten o'clock. Parker had eaten the crackers from the shelf over the hot plate, and was on his second cup of instant coffee when the headlights flashed over the row of gates. He drained the cup, put it down on the floor behind him, and peered through the window.

Nothing happened for a long minute. The headlights continued to shine on the gates. Then a shadow moved vaguely in front of the lights, and one pair of the gates swung open, pushed by a stocky old man in a long overcoat and a nondescript hat.

The watchman? That's who it had to be.

Parker waited, following it all through the window. The watchman disappeared again, and a minute later a car drove slowly through the gates and stopped. A dark Volkswagen, blue or green, it was hard to say which.

The watchman got out of the Volkswagen, and three men came through the gates with guns in their hands and handkerchiefs over the lower part of their faces.

The watchman seemed too stunned to understand them at first. Parker watched them make angry gestures with their guns, and finally the watchman slowly lifted his hands up over his head. One of the others frisked him, and brought a long-barreled pistol out of the watchman's overcoat pocket.

Two of them gestured to him to move, to walk toward the office, and he did so, obviously complaining and arguing, walking along with his hands up over his head. The two followed him, pushing his shoulders with their gun barrels, while the third stood in the open gates, lit by the red glow from the Volkswagen's tail-lights, and gestured to others outside to come in.

Parker got to his feet. He switched off the electric heater, and as the dim red light in the room faded to black, he opened the office door, stepped out into the darkness, and moved silently away.



PART TWO


One


"LOOK," CALIATO said.

He'd just given O'Hara the money, and now all four of them stood there and watched a guy throw a suitcase over the locked gates of Fun Island and then climb over them himself. He dropped to the ground on the inside, grabbed the suitcase, and disappeared.

Benniggio said, "I hear a siren."

Caliato listened. "Close," he said. "Coming this way."

"We better blow," Benniggio said.

Caliato could hear the nervousness in Benniggio's voice. He's supposed to protect me, he thought, but he didn't say anything. Not in front of the cops.

O'Hara was showing nervousness, too, standing there looking at the envelope in his hand as though wishing there was a drawer handy to shove it in. "If it's for us -- " he started.

Caliato was impatient when he met nervousness, because it was never the right response to anything. "It isn't for us," he said. "If it was for us, they'd come with sneakers on. It's for that bird just went into Fun Island. Get on your beeper and see what's up."

"Right," O'Hara said, and ran around to get into his patrol car. The other cop, Dunstan, went along with him. Caliato noticed O'Hara stashed the envelope in the glove compartment before getting on the radio.