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

the month if you want, but that's it."
"Uh uh. No welching. We did this for a percentage."
"Horowitz -- I'm telling you to back off. Let it go. Let him go."
"You telling me there never was any money?"
"The son of a bitch stole every dime I said. He can keep it. There's no way I
want anything more to do with him, ever. Even this distance is too close. If you
know what's good for you, you'll go back to San Francisco, have a nice vacation,
maybe find a job there if you like it. You want some references? You're good.
Damned good. I think I could get both of you a nice position with some solid
firm out there."
"Listen, Nkrumah, what in hell is this?" I growled. The fact was, Little Jimmy
wasn't sounding like himself at all. He was sounding very, very scared. "The
feds nail you?"
"No, no." He sighed. "All right, if you must know -- I was set up all along. It was
a scam. They busted Big Tony Guliano this morning, and at almost the same time
they hit almost every cog in the smuggling game through which the merchandise
passed. Every one! They have tied me to both Tri-State and Guliano, and I am
about to visit the Cayman Islands for a while. Perhaps a long while."
"On what?" I asked him, not quite believing all this. If this pair was part of a
federal scam, why this crazy scene with the transvestism and the rest of it? I
was sure Kennedy hadn't known about that apartment until I told him. I'd still
bet what I had left of Little Jimmy's money on it. "They stole your poke."
"That is none of your affair. My loans are being bought out if I am outside the
country by tomorrow night. I still have a future, but not for a little while.
Now it is time to take a much overdue vacation. I will make certain your
references are on file in the right places, and will send you a list care of the
main post office general-delivery window in San Francisco. This is it, Horowitz.
I'm sorry, but it is over. I truly am impressed with your work, though. Truly
impressed."
"Thanks for very little," I grumbled. This was smelling as bad as Marty
Whitlock's girlfriend. "Don't write if you set up again."
"Horowitz -- I want to emphasize only one thing, and then I am gone. Don't take it
upon yourselves to follow them any further, and do not get near that town or
that company. You are ignorant of what you are dealing with, as I was. I know
more than I wish now, but I want nothing more to do with them. Be smart. Take
that lovely lady of yours and enjoy. Forget that couple and that company. If you
don't, you will either be dead or you will pray to God that you die. That is all
I will say. None of my numbers will work from now on. Farewell."
And, before I could say another word, the weasel hung up on me, leaving me
standing there, stunned, with the phone still in my hand.
Now what the hell was this? There was no way around it but to find Brandy, brief
her, and then call Agent Kennedy.
Brandy was even more intrigued by this than I was. While up to now I had been
willing to rest on my laurels, and take the money and run, now there was no more
money, only a ton of questions.
I figured I might have some trouble getting through to Kennedy if all this was
going down, but he was right there.
"Yeah, it's true, they busted a bunch of them today including Big Tony, but it
wasn't us," he told me, sounding more than a little irritated at that fact.
"Turns out the FBI was running a parallel operation and we almost queered it