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

herself to both herself and the world, but the only mention of even the agency
in the papers was that her father had been killed by mobsters linked to the
reverend. The Philadelphia cops were highly impressed with her, but it wouldn't
do to admit that a twenty-one-year-old black female high-school dropout had
broken a case they couldn't. Her own family and circle of friends, however,
almost completely cut her off. She was a "traitor" to the black race; her old
man deserved what he got for trying to bring down a black leader. So what if the
rev was crooked? They all were. At least he was our crook. Business fell to
zero. Even those who didn't know a thing about it were not about to hire a girl
like her working alone.
Interestingly, the only people who seemed to have no ax to grind with her were
the crooks. She sold the house in west Philadelphia and moved into a studio
apartment in an old section of Camden near the office. She paid off a lot of
bills and lived on the rest for a while. And, although it was sparse and didn't
pay very well, she actually got a few clients -- all from the wrong side of the
law. Loan sharks out looking for deadbeats and not able to run them down; guard
jobs at illicit gambling dens; finding goods on cops who arrested the wrong
people. Not big money, but it helped. The cops, too, used her on occasion, which
is what had brought me there. She had deep sources among the small potatoes of
the underworld, and while she was not about to squeal on them she was
occasionally useful in digging for major crimes in places the cops just couldn't
look.
When I met her, she was pulling in just enough money to keep in business, but
she'd have made more by closing it and going on welfare, in real cash terms. She
was her father's daughter; she couldn't give up the dream no matter how
impossible it was, and she'd managed to make herself just useful enough to both
cops and crooks that she was reasonably safe, and the local junkies knew that
she didn't have anything anyway and was a bit too dangerous to tangle with. The
only thing was, the cops and crooks both knew they didn't have to give her much;
just barely enough to keep going. What kept her going was her dream, her felt
obligation to her father, and the fact that she was good at the job and she knew
it.
The grimness of reality had made her withdraw into something of a fantasy shell,
though. She didn't date. She had contacts, not friends. That's when I met her.
Of course, it was timing on my part, too. My dad had finally died after years of
inactivity, and my mother lasted only six months after that. I could have made
use of the old-boy network through the synagogues and social organizations, but
I hadn't been to shul or belonged to any of those things since I was eighteen.
There was nobody, really, but Uncle Max, and I already told you about him.
So, anyway, two people who really needed somebody and were in the same line of
work, more or less, but were socially unlikely to ever come together had,
through the Fates, done so. I kind of got a taste of things just hitting a bar
or restaurant with her and seeing the kinds of funny reactions and sideways
looks. It didn't matter if it was a black place or a white place, it was all the
same.
Oh, yeah -- about that kiddie-porn and kidnap case. Well, we firmed up that the old
hotel was the place where pedophiles of all races, creeds, and colors met in the
area, and we linked our distributor to not only the hotel but also to, would you
believe, a professional baby photographer in Cherry Hill. An undercover cop then
made the connections and infiltrated the network.