"Steve White - The Prometheus Project" - читать интересную книгу автора (White Steve)

no business happening. "However, it seems that the possibility can't be entirely discounted. Why do you
think we're hiring you?"
"Skip the flattery. I expect a hazardous-duty bonus."
Stafford flushed. "Why? This is simply what we pay you for in the first place."
"Nope. You pay meтАФand, I imagine, others like meтАФbecause you want to keep your hands clean. Fine.
But I get the impression that this isn't exactly routine. If I'm going to be risking my ass, I expect to be
compensated accordingly."
"Don't push it," Stafford snarled. "Remember, if it wasn't for us, you wouldn't be in business at all."
There was an element of truth to this. I'd put out the word through various acquaintances that I could
provide certain services discreetly. The result had been my first contact with Stafford. Shortly after that,
my license to operate a private security service had come through, despite the less-than-fully-honorable
discharge from the Army that I had on my record. I couldn't pretend that the two had been unconnected.
Still, I didn't appreciate him reminding me of it. So I turned my attention back to my drink, ignoring him
and waiting patiently while he jittered.
"All right," he finally blurted. "I can't make a firm commitment. But we'll talk about it after she's safely
delivered."

file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/White,%20steve%20-%20The%20prometheus%20project/0743498917___1.htm (5 of 7)28-12-2006 15:57:10
 - Chapter 1


"Fair enough," I allowed, deciding it wouldn't be a good idea to push him too far in his present
emotional state. Shortly thereafter, I departed, seeking my car. Even the hookers on Fourteenth Street
seemed subdued. Everybody was subdued these daysтАФexcept Stafford, who acted like he was fending
off a nervous breakdown.
My apartment-cum-office was east of Rock Creek Park, which was why I could afford it. It wasn't bad,
though. I had half of the second story of an established-but-not-dilapidated four-story building just off
Dupont Circle. My three front windows were up where most passersby never look, above the storefront
first floor. The doorway in the entry hall at the stairway landing, with its understated plaque reading
Robert Devaney, Security Services, led directly into the office part: very basic, for I had no receptionist,
nor any need of one. I'd found it was cheaper to hire an answering serviceтАФthis was decades before
voice mail, rememberтАФand return any calls that seemed promising. Stafford and a few others knew the
code-phrases to drop. So the office was really a place to do whatever paperwork I couldn't avoid, not to
impress clients. I suppose it had been somebody's parlor, once upon a time. Behind the desk was a door
leading to the living area, consisting of three rooms with the usual functions. In addition, there was what
had clearly been a workshop. I'd hired a carpenter to conceal one wall of it behind a kind of shallow
cabinet. The wall itself held hooks and racks to support tools. Now they held my toolsтАФtwo of which I
selected the following morning.
Even then, the Colt 1911 A1 was considered old-fashioned almost to the point of obsolescence. I still
liked it, for its reliability and for the sheer stopping power of its .45 ACP slug. It went into an armpit
holsterтАФit was just barely small enough to carry that way, even under a loose-fitting jacket. Another
holster fit around my right ankle. It held a Beretta .25, a gun on which I wasted very little respect. In
fact, I regarded it as just the thing for a firefight in a phone booth. But it was very concealable, which
covers a multitude of sins in a last-ditch holdout weapon.
In case you're wondering: no, I didn't usually go this heavily armed. But something about Stafford's
manner had worried me. That, and the fact that they were hiring meтАФand even willing to consider a
bonus, if Stafford was to be believedтАФfor a job which, from his description, a chauffeur could have
handled. This told me there was more to it than he was admitting. I didn't particularly resent his lack of
candorтАФit wasn't like he owed me anything. But neither did I intend to go in blind without taking
precautions.