"Jack Womack - Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Womack Jack)

I cooled on my slab till roostertime, then rose and soaked my
head in sunshine. No distressing afterburn, I was pleased to
note тАУ no neckache, no blurry vision, no need to brush one-
handed while propping myself up with the unused paw. While
scrubbing I decided to show up extra sharp for these boys. I
shaved close, played coathanger for my priciest suit. Sparkled
like a diamond in the rhinestone counter when I got there. The
Williard HotelтАЩs slavemasters werenтАЩt big on face control, and
the coffee shop was almost one hundred percent DC riffraff.
Most looked nitrogen-poisoned, stumbling around blind with
walking bends, good for nothing but taking fingerprints or
filing them. I breezed through their midst and ignored the looks
the secretaries shot me. Martin and Bennett held court at a
booth in the rear. Most of the dregs on hand favoured official
federal government style. But my boys were men of taste, and
put on a Washington style show. Seven-layer silk ties, trifold
linen squares, cuffs overloaded with silver and gold; suits thick
as overcoats and shoes shiny enough to scare away the school-
girls.
┬╗Everything went exactly as you predicted, Walter,┬л Martin
told me. ┬╗Congratulations are in order.┬л My boss came on like
he always did, the head man in Statuary Hall. Bennett looked
like heтАЩd sat on a pickle and couldnтАЩt get it out. He eyed me as if
I were some evil bird swooping down to bag his waffles.
┬╗Muchas thankas.┬л Taking a load off, I signalled the waiter.
┬╗Sleep well?┬л Bennett asked.
┬╗Slept better.┬л
┬╗Too much on your mind, perhaps тАУ┬л
I lit into the mocha java the second Pierre set it down in front
of me, but that was a serious mistake. Gave my tongue third
degree burns and for a second I thought my throat was going to
seal up
┬╗Hot?┬л Bennett asked.
┬╗Beelzebub,┬л I said. ┬╗Like drinking the sun.┬л
┬╗You remember our associates,┬л said Martin, stretching out
his hand like he was introducing the dog act. ┬╗Mister Hamilton.
Mister Frye.┬л
┬╗Morning, my brothers.┬л
The co-conspirators nodded and winked and I returned the
favour. Hamilton was silver-haired, silver-tongued and slippery
as wet glass. I donтАЩt think he was a mammal. Old mellifluous
knew anything he served up had to drip with syrup, otherwise
itтАЩd never slide down. His sidekick Frye seemed content with the
job of vestigial twin. If you taught a ferret how to walk on its
back feet and put it in a three-hundred-dollar suit, youтАЩd have
Frye. He sat there emitting a series of sinister chuckles. Those
two were kingsize trolls but it was never clear to me what pre-
cise realm of the swamp they oversaw, and they seemed the sort
whoтАЩd like to keep it that way. Martin screwed a Lucky into his
holder. Bennett almost fell out of his chair, offering his lighter.