"Дон Пендлтон. Chicago Wipe-Out ("Палач" #8) " - читать интересную книгу автора

actresses. Sure, Bolan and several million other Vietnam veterans knew about
the Foxy Ladies. Their centerfold artwork had adorned every barracks, tent
and vehicle in Southeast Asia.
This one had bent toward the ashtray to crush out the cigarette. The
topcoat fell away from her. She sighed and let it remain where it fell. The
limited airspace of the Ferrari cabin was beginning to heat up. She neatly
folded the coat and arranged it over the backrest. Then she repositioned
herself to face Bolan and drew one leg onto the seat. Bolan cooly inspected
the display of living flesh, then directed his eyes to the business of
piloting the vehicle.
"What you see is what you don't get," she told him in a matter-of-fact
tone, paraphrasing a famous black comedian. "That's the house rule at the
Lair . It's an exercise in male frustration, I guess."
"What are the house rules for Mafia molls?" he quietly inquired.
The blue eyes flared but the reply was just as quiet. "Believe it or
not, this was my first time at that place. I knew what Mr. Aurielli was, of
course. But you have to understand... in this town, that's almost a mark of
distinction. There was nothing personal between us. I'd just met him this
afternoon."
Bolan was watching for roadsigns, trying to orient himself. Almost
absently, he commented, "Okay."
"It was an assignment," she explained. "It's in our contract. We get
outside assignments. Not uh... not what you might be thinking."
"Uh huh."
"It's a public relations thing. The Foxy Ladies often make appearances
at private parties. It's good for us, or so we're told. We get more exposure
that way." Her eyes flashed down to the costume. "If that's possible."
Bolan said, "Okay."
"Do you want to hear this or don't you?"
"I'm listening," he assured her. He was also trying to find his place
on a map of the city.
"Mr. Aurielli is - was - a keyholder. Do you think I'd go on a date
dressed like this? In the middle of the afternoon? I was out there to serve
a special meeting. Mr. Aurielli called it a board meeting. But I didn't see
any other board members present, and I was already beginning to smell a rat
when the shooting started. This man, the bartender I guess, had just taken
my coat and was headed off somewhere to put it away. When the first shot
sounded, he ran toward the back of the house. I went to the window, and by
that time the shots were coming one after another and I saw Mr. Aurielli and
two other men lying in the drive. I guess I panicked. I ran outside... and
then I saw the men upstairs shooting at the place next door. Then the car
caught fire and blew up. I heard someone yell something about Bolan - and
that's when I started running. I don't know why I ran to you. I guess I just
suddenly realized where I needed to be."
Bolan glanced at her and caught a wry smile pulling at her lips. "My
suspicious and romantic mind, I guess," she continued. "I had suddenly
understood that I was practically alone with that... that terrible man - and
in some sort of a hideout. So I had already begun to panic. And I guess I
thought Prince Charming had come to rescue me from my awful fate. I don't
know what I thought. I just lost my head. And I ran for the arms of Prince