"Дон Пендлтон. The Violent Streets ("Палач" #41) " - читать интересную книгу автора

extensive mutilation. More often than not, sex organs were removed, and
never found. Now, that is a sex fiend."
"And our headcase is no Ripper?" Bolan asked.
Fran shook her head firmly.
"No way. Oh, superficially there's a similarity, sure. But our man
stabs and hacks without any real direction, without any sexual aim. He
defaces his victims, diminishes them. And, thereby, he somehow enlarges
himself."
"Is he insane?"
She shrugged. "Medically? Of course. Legally, who knows?"
"What happens if he's arrested?"
"That depends. Of course, if there is some kind of plot to cover for
him, he could be committed quietly - again. And he's already escaped three
times."
"What if he goes to trial, Fran?"
"Maybe the same thing. A state hospital instead of some private
institution, but those places have revolving doors. He could be 'cured' and
released in a few years. Possibly months."
Bolan's voice was cool, determined.
"Okay," he said, "you've helped."
"That's it? End of lesson?"
He smiled. "School's out. And thanks."
"For what?"
"Some insight, some direction," he answered. "I can get inside him
now."
When she spoke again, Fran Traynor's voice was almost pleading with
him.
"They're not stupid, you know. Psychos, I mean. They get reckless
sometimes, but underneath they're frequently as clever as they are vicious."
Bolan nodded. "Okay. I'll be careful."
He didn't need to be told how clever - and dangerous - a maniac with a
self-imposed mission could be.
Bolan rested a warm hand on the lady cop's shoulder for a moment, left
some change on the table for their coffees, then left her alone. As he hit
the street in his rented sedan, the lady was already out of his mind,
crowded from his thoughts by the multitude of things that remained to be
done before the curtain could ring down on St. Paul's bloody stage.
First, he needed to touch base with the Politician and see what he had
learned about the registration of the two crew wagons. He would have to
follow that lead wherever it took him, before he could fit all the pieces
together in their final mosaic.
And beyond that?
Somewhere out there, in the large city just stirring into life with the
warming rays of the morning sun, there was waiting for him a young man with
a blank face and a seriously deranged mind.
That young man, and perhaps several more besides, had an unscheduled
appointment with the Executioner.
It was one appointment that Mack Bolan was grimly determined to keep.

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