"Chalker, Jack L - G.O.D. Inc 1 - Labyrinth of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

checked luggage.
Maybe Little Jimmy did simply need all the help he could get.

3.
The Path to G.O.D.

I have to admit that I'd really underestimated Martin Whitlock, just like the
feds and the mob had. It took some kind of brains to steal two and a quarter
million bucks from the mob, get exposed in a drug-laundry scheme, and vanish for
three days without a trace while not moving more than six blocks from his
office. The only amateur's slip he made was calling his wife. That was the crazy
thing. I think they still loved each other, in a way. She wasn't just protecting
him for image's sake; this stuff was bound to hit the papers in a big way sooner
or later -- his disappearance already had, and the reporters had no problems tying
it to federal bank examiners moving in at Tri-State. Hell, Minnie might well
sell the sordid stuff for the right price if nothing else happened. No, his wife
was protecting him because, in spite of everything, she still loved him. And he
had risked a farewell phone call to her, too. And I thought we had problems!
Just goes to show that millions of bucks and two Mercedes mean less than you
think. Of course, I'll still take his money and my marriage any day.
The trouble was, this new situation had made me fall back on resources I really
didn't like to use. I called Little Jimmy and briefed him on the case to date,
and he seemed really excited about it. I also told him about Agent Kennedy,
something he took in stride, and his taking it in stride made me very upset.
"Listen, Nkrumah, I'm not doing any stretch because I was hung out to dry for a
measly few grand and a charge account. You want me to lead them away, you tell
me, and I'll lead them away instead of pressing this. No more games, though,
huh?"
"Why, Samuel! I wouldn't dream of hanging you out to dry on this! In fact, those
people are why I cannot move through normal channels. They have everything sewed
up tight. I can't breathe without them noticing and in their ham-handed way
notifying certain parties of my, ah, problem. In fact, if it makes you feel any
better, give this Kennedy a call and brief him from time to time. Just be
certain it's the second call you make."
"That won't give you much breathing room," I noted.
"Oh, that's all right. I have resources in high places."
"Seems to me you're thinking that your own bosses are mighty dumb," I couldn't
help but point out. "I mean, this guy's vanishing act hasn't hit the front pages
yet, but it will sooner or later."
"Oh, they won't care about him. I don't mind if they do think he took a powder
just ahead of the bank examiners and the narcs. It's my money, not theirs, that
is at stake, and they are getting things exactly as they expect. Don't worry. I
can keep things under control -- if you can on your end. It might be best if we
arranged a different number to use. I really don't mind them discovering who
you're working for -- they probably already know -- but I really would mind if they
overheard something and queered it. Don't call again. I'll be in touch with
alternatives."
"Okay, but I need a guide through these local sewers. Somebody with clout whose
information will be reliable and who won't go squealing to Kennedy all the
time."