"Wilson, F Paul - Implant (aka Colin Andrews)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson F. Paul)

A third mistress?
No. Gerry didn't think that was it. Schulz's office had been sealed
since his death. No point in anyone going there. She couldn't get
in.

But this gal didn't work here. Gerry could tell by the uncertain way
she'd walked through the atrium, gawking at the sculpture, looking for
the elevators, this was her first time in the Hart Building.

So who was she?

Easy enough to find out. Just go over to the visitors log by the
Constitution entrance and check out the names. But that would be
cheating.

Hey, I'm a trained special agent, he told himself. I can solve The
Mystery of the Strangely Familiar Foxy Brunette without stooping to
checking the visitors log.

So FBI special agent Gerald Canney stood in the center of the atrium
and flipped through his mental files. After five minutes he walked
over to the visitors gate and showed the guards his ID.

'"I'd like to see this morning's visitor sheet." The woman slid a
clipboard across the table. Gerry scanned through the names, picking
out the female ones. If he saw it, he'd know it. No doubt. It would
click.

He slid past one and jumped back to it.

Regzna Panzella.

Regina Panzella . . . why did that ring a bell? Panzella sounded
familiar, but not with that first name. Not Regina . . . not Gin .

. .

What went with Panzella?

Pasta.

Oh, Christ! Pasta Panzella. It couldn't be. Absolutely no way Pasta
had been . . . well . . . fat. That was how she got the name. A
real chubette. This gal was anything but fat.

And yet . . .

Something about her face . . . slim down the rounded cheeks he
remembered, do something with Pasta's wild tangle of hair, and it could
be. It had been ten years or more since he'd last seen her, but yes,