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

She shrugged. "Maybe it's because he knew he'd have to disappear someday, and he
figured this was a real neat dead end. Everybody would now be looking for a drag
queen or a transsexual, not for him."
"And left it in place for a couple of years?" I thought about it. "It's almost
too clever. You wonder how somebody with his background would even know about
these places, let alone work them out that neatly. It explains the call to his
wife, though, even though it's one of only two mistakes he made. She knows
what's going on. Most of it, anyway. Damn! This is frustrating! You don't hire
somebody to go through this kind of elaborate shit for two years just as a blind
alley, and even if you have this kind of shit going you can't buy much more time
than if you got a fake passport, went up to Canada, and took the plane to Rio or
whatever. No, this smells. This stinks. He did this for a reason other than to
cover his tracks. This was something ongoing, something he rnaybe needed to
develop so he could get out from under the Little Jimmys of the world one step
ahead of the feds. Why stick around here at all? He could just as easily and
untraceably have called her changing planes in Chicago."
"Unfinished business. He had to move in a hurry, faster than he figured. You
said two mistakes, though."
"Uh huh. Get another description of that guy who came by to pick up her gear?"
"Yeah, it was pretty much as Joey told us. About five ten, blue eyes, long blond
hair and moustache. ..."
"The operative stuff is at the start. Five ten, blue eyes. Probably a real good
blond wig and a real professional matching fake moustache."
"The real Marty Whitlock," she sighed. "But why come at all? Testing out the
disguise, or what?"
"Uh uh. Remember, he was spooked into moving a few days early. His girlfriend
was told to stay away. Considering the trail he laid, they'd be more likely to
be looking for her than him, or so he'd think. Those rich upper-class types
really believe the cops are that good and that fast. But she needs some stuff
from there, or something in the locker was traceable. So he puts on an old pair
of jeans and a tee shirt, maybe old tennis shoes, and with some difficulty gets
the stuff. We can forget the blond shit, though. He knows he was conspicuous, so
he'll ditch 'em or at least stick 'em in the trunk and use something else. Big
beard, shaved head, maybe tinted contact lenses, and he's off. Dead end, babe.
We don't even know the name he was using in northeast Philly -- if that was where
he was doing whatever he was doing -- and there's only three quarters of a million
people out there. It'd take us years to canvass enough to find this pair."
Brandy grinned. "You won't have to. See, they thought she was one of them, and
they smelled somethin' real odd about this dude even if he did have the
handwriting and all. After all, Whitlock was their sugar daddy or mama or
whatever. So when he left, they tailed him. I have the address."
I almost jumped across the table to kiss her. Naturally, this spilled my coffee
and her Coke, but I didn't care. Finally I said, as the waitress and several
patrons stared at us in disgust, "I think we go out there -- after I make two phone
calls."
"Little Jimmy and who else?"
"Agent Kennedy. I'm gonna give 'em both everything up to the sex change. If
they're any good, they might get further, but maybe not. In the meantime, I'm in
good with them and we'll be the first there."
There were still several hours of setup and work involved. The place was one of