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

"Okay, great," Turk said. "And just in case it all falls to hell, I'll
be waiting right here. Me and Willie Thompson."
A man seated in the front beside the driver snickered and raised the
snout of a Thompson submachine gun into view. "I hope it all falls to hell,"
he commented.
"Fuck you, Willie," Bernie Tosca said, and flung himself back into the
snowstorm.
Larry Turk chuckled and again touched the wheelman's shoulder. "Okay,
let's ease down in front of that exit."
The heavy vehicle crunched slowly along the snowpacked street, taking
station for a rub-out. "You smelling blood, Willie?" Turk asked, still
chuckling.
"Hell, boss, I can almost taste it," Wille Thompson replied.
The ghostly glow of headlamps loomed suddenly in front of them as a
large car, moving cautiously in the restricted visibility, swung past and
into the motel entrance. For one electric instant the occupants were visible
in the lights of Larry Turk's vehicle. The field general's chuckles stifled
into a grunted, "Christ! Wasn't that... ?"
"It sure as hell was!" the wheelman confirmed.
"Who?" said Willie Thompson. "I didn't see 'em. Who was it?"
Larry Turk was swearing loudly to nobody in particular.
The wheelman told Wille Thompson, "That was Pete the Hauler. With a
car-full of boys."

* * *

Some of the parcels which Bolan had brought into the motel room had
been for himself. The black suit and overcoat had given way to a white,
heavy-weather jumpsuit, water-resistant and tightly cuffed at ankles and
wrists. Over this he wore a light but warm hooded jacket, also white, and
gray rubberized boots with thermal linings.
His concern at the moment was for Jimi James. He gave her a final
critical inspection and declared, "I guess you'll do."
"I guess I'd do for an Artie expedition," she replied drily. Bolan had
stuffed her into several layers of clothing - frilly underthings next to the
skin followed by a thermal suit similar to Bolan's own, then the heavy wool
pants-suit and knee-high boots, all in white. A hiplength ski jacket,
muffler, cap and gloves completed the outfit - and she was feeling a bit put
out by the entire thing. "From the sublime to the ridiculous," she groused.
"Where are our snowshoes?"
Bolan ignored the wisecrack and tested his access to the Beretta. Jimi
could see the displeasure in his eyes. She said, "Don't mind me. When I get
scared I get sarcastic."
"I don't mind you," he assured her. "It's this outfit... it's a bit
clumsy." He grinned and added, "Look who's demanding perfection," then he
hit the light switch and the room went dark.
In a quavery voice, Jimi asked, "Did you say down ?"
He chuckled. "No, I didn't."
"Why are we standing here in the dark?"
"Can you see me?" he asked her.