"Timothy Zahn - A Coming of Age" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

"Relax," Tirrell cut him off. "I got the money right here." He tapped his coat pocket and nodded over
the sailor's shoulder at the weathered freighter rocking gently alongside its moorings a hundred
meters away, its logo and number only barely legible. "The stuff still aboard or did you off-load
already?"

"Aboard. Gimme the money and I'll tell you where."

Silently, Tirrell pulled out the envelope and handed it over. The sailor produced a long-bladed knife
from somewhere and slit the envelope open with a quick flick of his wrist. Reaching in, he leafed
through the bills, his lips moving as he counted.

"It's all there," Tirrell growled, wanting to get this over with. "Where's the merchandise?"

The sailor stuffed the envelope into his hip sporran; with a brief hesitation the knife likewise
vanished. "Starboard hold, third locker," he muttered. "The back comes offтАФuse a knife on the
water sealant and push the bottom; it swings back. The stuff's in the ballast space behind and below,
in six mesh bags."

"How do I get aboard?" Tirrell asked. "Is there someone who knows enough to look the other way?"

"NoтАФthere's just me." The sailor was backing away, clearly anxious to fade back into Ridge
Harbor's dockyard community. "How you get aboard is your problem. I just get the stuff through
customs."

"True," Tirrell agreed, reaching into his pocket again. "And I'm afraid that's going to cost you."

Something in Tirrell's voice must have tipped him off, because the sailor was running full-tilt for the
security gate before Tirrell even got his ID badge clear of the pocket. Sighing, Tirrell put a finger in
his mouth and gave a trilling whistle. If his trusty righthand was where he was supposed to be...

The sailor increased his speedтАФand suddenly screamed in panic as his feet left the ground. For
another second his legs pumped madly, in a cartoon-like pantomime of flight, before abruptly giving
up. Hanging motionlessly, thirty centimeters off the ground, he looked like a marionette with
invisible strings. Farther ahead, drifting from his concealment near the fence, a grinning preteen
appeared, making gift-wrapping motions with his hands as he flew over the gate. Breaking into a
jog, Tirrell headed for the dangling prisoner, reaching him the same time the preteen did.

"That basically how you wanted it done?" the boy asked, settling to the ground.

"More or less," Tirrell nodded. "Your sense of humor leaves something to be desired, though."
Stepping in front of the sailor, he held up his badge for inspection. "Detective First Stanford Tirrell,
Ridge Harbor Police," he identified himself. "You're under arrest for smuggling. Tonio, let him
down."



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A Coming of Age

The preteen did so, and under his watchful eye Tirrell relieved the prisoner of knife and payoff