"Steven Gould - Wildside" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

"Thanks."

I went next door to the pool hall. The tables were crowded together and, when it's busy, you
can hardly take a shot without hitting other players. It was early, though, and there were only a few
people in the place. Luis was in the corner, playing eight ball against himself.

"Hey, Charlie, grab a cue. Or would you rather go flying?" Luis was a small man, my height, but
where I'm big boned and overweight, he's trim and perfectly proportioned. If you don't have anything
to scale against, he doesn't look short at all. He makes me feel even fatter than usual.

I said, "Thunderstorm coming in."

He grinned. "Good IFR weather."

"For idiots."

Luis was working on his Instrument rating. I met him in instrument ground school and, later, flew
with him as a safety pilot when he flew "under the hood" to simulate instrument conditions.

I took a cue from the wall and leaned on it while he sank all the balls.
 "So, what's happening?"

"Incoming money."

He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"A wire transfer into the account."

He banked the six ball into the side pocket, then set up on the seven. "How much?"

"One hundred K."

The cue scraped across the felt and the cue ball hopped sideways. He swore and rubbed at the
blue mark on the green. "One hundred thousand? Who from?"

"The San Diego Zoo."

He scratched at his head. "I didn't believe it. I'm still not sure I do. You sold them pigeons?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't steal these birds, right? Or illegally import them?"

"Right. Really. But they're still going to want to know where I got them and I can't tell them. So
that's why we set up the Austin account, right?"

He took another shot. "Right. How much do we transfer to the private account and how much
do you want to hold back for taxes?"

"We're going to declare a loss the first year. Expenses."