"Дон Пендлтон. Death Squad ("Палач" #2) " - читать интересную книгу автора "Zitter?" Bolan called out softly.
"Zitter," came an immediate reply. "That you, Mack?" "It's me." Bolan was rolling slowly as he spoke. "You okay, Zit?" "Yeah. There's three of 'em. You get all three?" "Check-three," Bolan replied. He sighed and got to his feet, returned to the door and found the light switch, then closed the door and turned on the lights. Three men were lying about the small room like grotesque statues of death. Zitka sat in a corner on the floor, ropes binding his wrists and ankles. Bolan produced a pocket knife and cut the ropes. "You should have told your buddies the password," he said, grinning. "Buddies hell!" Zitka muttered. "What'd you do to your hair?" He was rubbing the circulation into his hands and feet. "Bleached it," Bolan said. "Cute huh? Tried the mustache route too but couldn't stand the filthy thing. What'd you let them tie you up for?" Zitka growled an unintelligible response and reached for a pack of cigarettes on a nearby table. A dark man, heavily built, he moved with surprising grace. He was dressed only in a swimsuit. Bolan had moved to one of the dead and was busily searching pockets and laying the contents out for inspection. "How'd you know they weren't cops?" he asked off-handedly. "Cops don't slap you around and tie you up like a turkey," Zitka growled. Bolan nodded. They're Maffios," he reported. "Dammit, I told you to stay clear." ambush at Kwang Tri was a helluva lot hotter than this one." These bastards ain't playing games, Mack." Bolan was still smiling. "Weren't much of a match for a couple of old jungle fighters, were they? Pretty cute the way you tipped me, Zit. Of all places to go for R and R. Kwang Tri, for God's sake." "Yeah," Zitka said sourly. He had yet to find a glint of humor in the situation. "How long they been encamped, Zit?" The big guy there has been hanging around a coupla days. I knew he was reconning. I figured they had a phone tap on me. The TV and papers here were full of your private little war with the Mafia. I had the setup figured, all right. The phone was tapped. Soon as you hung up they came busting in here. Hell, I hadn't been worried until I got your call, Mack. You're the last guy on earth I expected to show up here. You shoulda stayed clear. You really should've." Bolan's smile became a dark scowl. "I couldn't stay clear, Zit," he replied. The bastards have backtracked my entire life. I found stakeouts every place I went. They were waiting for me in Omaha, in Denver, at Gordon's place up in Evergreen, at Vegas-and now here. It's getting to be too damn much, Zit, Dammit, I need ..." His voice trailed off, and he raised baffled eyes to his friend. "What you need, buddy, is a miracle," Zitka declared. His eyes dropped. "And what I need is to get this garbage the hell out of here." Bolan sighed. "Call the cops, Zit. Tell them what happened. Meanwhile |
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