"Chalker, Jack L - G.O.D. Inc 3 - The Maze in the Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

of criminals, with a gun port and the prisoner shackled to the floor and to the
arms of a very strong metal chair that was welded down. Sam took a look at him,
though, particularly his eyes, and knew that Bill had underestimated their
insanity if anything.
The man looked up at them with a surly gaze and a slight sneer on his lips.
"Where is my lawyer?" he snapped. "I know my rights. I don't say nothin' without
my lawyer." The Spanish accent was heavy, but clearly he could and did think in
English when he wanted to.
"We are attending to the lawyer you told us to phone," Markham responded
smoothly. "He's about to mysteriously disappear on his way to the golf course
and whether he's ever seen again will depend on what he can tell us."
The man suddenly looked very startled. "What the hell you mean by that?"
"We are not the police, Senor, nor the feds. You seem to be under a mistaken
impression. We took great pains to keep the cops out of this, since we don't
want them any more than you normally would."
At least something could get to the man. There was a glint of panic in his eyes
now, but they were still mean, crazy.
"Who are you? Mafia?"
Markham chuckled. "Now, you know that there is no such thing as the Mafia. No,
Senor, not the Mafia. We are far worse than the Mafia. We are the ones who use
even organized crime as a tool. We're the ones behind every bush and in every
shadow that you can never see out of the corner of your eye. You went a step too
far this time, Senor. We don't like your business and we don't give a damn about
your politics, for if you ever got big enough to take over a country you would
find our strings upon your leaders as sure as they are on the ones you might
overthrow. Do you know us now, Senor?"
The man's eyes widened and he looked at each of them. "Conquistadores!" he
breathed.
"That is the name the smartest and slimiest of the dark corners of this world
know us in your area," Markham admitted. "Your two employers have taken
themselves out of the game. Maybe I'll let you see them at some point so you can
see that there are those even more fanatical than you. Right now, though, I want
some information."
"You can go to Hell!" the man snarled. "I will die rather than betray my
comrades!"
Markham sighed and sat down and leaned back in a chair. Sam had already sat down
facing the man but remained silent.
"That," said Markham softly, "is not an option."
He waved his hand in the air, and suddenly two small traps slid back in the
ceiling out of which dropped two small ball-shaped devices, like tiny turrets,
with pencil-like guns protruding from them. Suddenly the tips of both "barrels"
glowed -one white, the other red-and they shifted until both were pointing
directly at the prisoner's head, making tiny little dots of light on his hair.
The man eyed them nervously and then tried to move his head to louse up their
aim, but they followed his every move instantly-and he could only move so far.
Markham reached into his sports coat jacket and brought out a small device
resembling an electric pager with two buttons on it, one red and one white.
"Now, let's start with the basics. I want your name. I hate to have a nice
conversation with somebody and not know their name."
"Fidel Castro," the man responded bravely. Markham pressed the red button and