"Дон Пендлтон. Chicago Wipe-Out ("Палач" #8) " - читать интересную книгу автораBolan. They're looking at you right now."
"You're dreaming, Lavallo," the icy voice informed him. Pete the Hauler shivered and stole a glance through the plate-glass of the lobby. There was no sign of any cars waiting out there. He said, "Look, Bolan, I got nothing..." "That's right, you've got nothing. Rudy sent your gunners home. It's just you and me, Lavallo. Now you take off the overcoat and let it fall to the floor. Then you kick it away." Lavallo followed the instructions. Those bastard eyes were tearing him up. Inwardly he was raging and his stomach was throwing fits. Outwardly he was smooth, almost genial. He told his persecutor, "If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it already. So what's going on, Bolan?" "I've got a girl," the man in black said tightly. "I mean to keep her alive. And well . You remember that. She's your personal responsibility. Whatever happens to her happens also to you, Lavallo. Remember that. She gets cut a little, I cut you a little. She gets burned a little, I burn you a little. She gets left alone, you get left alone. Call that a deal, with no escape clause. You're tied to her, Lavallo, in life and in death. Remember it." The king of the highways nervously wet his lips and said, "You're talking about the dollie was with Lou. Louis Aurielli." "That's the one. She just stumbled into this thing, Pietro. It was a dumb mistake. See that it stays that way. Now turn around and go back up the stairs." "I don't get it!" Lavallo cried, the rage finally surfacing and shaking "It's bargain basement day," Bolan told him. "Usually the price would be one of her for a hundred of your kind. Now get on up the stairs before I decide to deal with bigger fish." Lavallo turned and got. He pounded up the stairs and paused at the landing to inspect the bullet grazes on his hand and to attempt to quell the tumbling of his guts, then he staggered on toward the office. Maybe Rudy had been right after all, he was thinking. God, didn't that big dumb bastard know he couldn't pull that kind of stuff in this town? Did he think this was New York or Miami or somewheres? Did he think he could just walk in and take over Chicago ? Lavallo hurried past his own doorway and pushed into Palmer's office. City Jim , that was the one to call. These goddam punk cops had to get their heads out of their asses and nail that goddam guy. He fell into Palmer's swivel chair and began hastily going through the scattered papers on the desk. Who the hell did Rudy call? What crew did he put on that dollie? Call City Jim , that was the thing to do. First, though; first he had to find that crew and call them off. Did that bastard say tied in life and death ! Lavallo shivered violently and intensified his investigation of Rudy's desk. God, he didn't want to be tied to no turkey . God no. Not until that horsed-up, blacksuited dummy was out of the way. Lavallo had to believe that guy. He'd do it. He'd do just what he promised he'd do. He'd better get in touch with the council, though. He'd better talk it over with the bosses. But should he? Could he keep them out of it? Hell, he |
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