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

kind of a revenge dream come true. He was beginning to have some difficulty
distinguishing on a moral basis between his old friend Bill and this bastard in
the chair.
"Where did you meet the other group?" Sam asked him.
There was a moment's hesitancy, but Bill's thumb only had to head for the red
and the man answered. "Asheville."
"How were you hired?"
"We do not hire out like common criminals!" the man responded with some of the
pride he'd had before getting the pain treatment. "It was a fraternal favor
between revolutionary groups. They have done some favors for us, we do some for
them."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "And who exactly is 'them'?"
"Why, the American Revolutionary Brigades."
Sam looked at Bill, who shrugged. "I thought that shit went out with the
Sixties," the security man muttered. "At least here. Beruit, maybe, but not
here. Still, it's a nice cover for dealing with these kind of folks if you're
really other-worldly."
Sam nodded and turned back to Ramon. "We know about the pair who transferred
with you and the boy. Who were the others? The ones who didn't come along?"
The prisoner tried to shrug. "Who knows? We have only dealt directly with the
comrades who remained with the boy up to now, and even then we knew them only by
code names."
That figured, Sam thought. "All right, then, tell me what the others looked
like. Did they look different or speak in a different language or was there
anything odd about their clothes?"
The man frowned. "Yes, in fact. Most looked sort of-Chinese or Japanese or
something like that. Oriental, you know. Smaller. They all wore heavy wool coats
and pull-down caps and you could not tell much else. They did speak to each
other in some nonsense-sounding tongue, though."
That was jibing with what little Dash had been able to tell them. "What about
the leader with the funny voice?"
"There was one fellow. A mestizo, I think. He did not speak with us but spoke
briefly with the other two. He had an odd accent, I remember that. We thought he
might have been Puerto Rican."
All Spanish accents sounded alike to Sam, but he knew from experience that, in
the Western Hemisphere, dialects differed so sharply that it made the linguistic
differences between a Maine farmer and a Mississippi cotton grower seem trivial
by comparison. He did not, however, think that the accent was Puerto Rican. Most
probably this fellow's dialect had no equal anywhere on this Earth.
"Where did these others go?" Sam asked him. "After you took over, that is." The
fellow was certainly being very cooperative after the demonstration, but neither
Sam nor Bill was likely to loose those bonds. The eyes still said it.
"We left them in the rest area just east of Asheville. There were many cars and
trucks there since the highway through the mountains was supposed to be
difficult to go through because of snow and ice. They must have used some of
them."
"How did you and your men get to the rest area?"
"We came in one of the big trucks we have used for many deliveries and it was
then driven away by our people."
Sam nodded. Everything checked out pretty well so far. He turned to Bill. "I