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

for a few hours until Brandy was ready. We had decided to fly out of Newark
rather than Philly because there wasn't any use in taking chances on people
stationed there, and also because Newark had a couple of cheap airlines flying
cross-country where you basically bought your seat on the plane. That made it
damned difficult to get an advanced passenger list, and by the time they found
out the reservations were in assumed names, it would be too late. The trouble
was, it took extra time. It would take maybe ninety minutes to get up there, add
an hour to make sure you got there in time to keep them from giving away your
seat, and the earliest you could figure on was a flight at six-thirty in the
evening.
I got lunch at a diner down the street, keeping in character -- though having a
tough time when the waitress kept calling me "Pops" -- but it wasn't until after
two, when my nerves and patience were really thin, that somebody knocked at the
door. It was Lavonia.
We drove over to a row-house area that had a number of small businesses in the
basements, stopping in front of one that looked older and in worse condition
than our building and had a weathered sign that read. New You Salon and Beauty
Parlor. They sure as hell lived up to their name. I wouldn't have recognized
Brandy, just passing her in the street, and that's saying something. Only when
she approached and then got into the cab was she unmistakably my Brandy.
Most dramatically, they had given her a very short haircut, then fitted her with
an enormous and very natural looking wig of slightly curly reddish-brown hair.
Cosmetics had been neatly applied that subtly changed the way her face looked,
topped off by crimson lipstick and long and complicated golden earrings. She was
also wearing a fancy-looking sleeveless top with a leatherlike dark-red vest and
a skirt of the same material, slit a bit up the sides, as well as matching boots
with the highest heels I'd ever seen. It couldn't disguise the fact that she was
chubby, but the whole thing used that to minimize it, or actually make it
something of an asset. I was stunned. "You look absolutely beautiful," I told
her.
"Yeah, and you look like hell," she returned. "In a way, it ain't fair. I got to
suffer with this damned girdle and you get to look like an old slob."
We went over to the turnpike and headed north. There were no evident tails, but
you could never be sure. We wanted to cover all the bases, though, so this would
be our only opportunity together until we got to San Francisco. I would be
dropped a block from the place in East Brunswick where you got the airport van,
and Brandy would do the same from Union. From that point we wouldn't know or
acknowledge each other until we got outside the airport terminal at the other
end. Nobody was going to get the chance to remember a salt-and-pepper couple, or
think it odd that a young comer would take an inordinate interest in an old
white geezer.
"You found the place and got some contact names?" she asked me.
I nodded. "McInerney is in the mountains east of Bend, so if they would fly up,
they'd go there. That means either a commuter line out of San Francisco or
Oakland, or a hop to Portland and then a line over to Bend for a pickup. It's
one of those old logging towns that almost blew away, and I'm told that this
company more or less bought the whole place. It was always a company town; just
now it's a different company and different business. It's a small town, but
we'll stand out as much or more than they would. There's not much anybody else
could tell me from here, except that this General Ordering and Development