"George R. R. Martin - WC 6 - Ace in the hole" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

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Wildcards VI: Ace In The HoleAce In The Hole
Book 6 of Wildcards
Edited by George R.R. Martin
ISBN: 0-553-28253-0


CHAPTER ONE
Monday July 18, 1988
6:00 A.M.
Spector pulled down on the padlock with a gloved hand. The lock snapped open. He
unlatched the corrugated tin door and put his weight against it, pushing it up
and sideways, trying to make as little noise as possible. He slid his thin body
through and shut the door behind him. So far it was going just like they said.
The place smelled of dust and fresh paint. The light was dim, coming from a
single overhead lamp in the center of the warehouse. He paused to let his eyes
adjust. There were boxes of masks all around. Clowns, politicians, animals, some
just normal human faces. He picked up a bear mask and put it on; might as well
be safe if someone flipped on the lights. The plastic pinched his nose and the
eveholes were smaller than he would have liked. His peripheral vision was shot.
Spector moved slowly toward the light, turning his head back and forth to make
sure no one was closing in on him.
He was a few minutes early. He figured it was the smart thing to do. Someone had
gone to a lot of trouble tracking him down and arranging this meeting. They were
either desperate, or they were setting him up. It could mean trouble either way.
Dust irritated his eyes, but he couldn't do anything about it with the mask on.
He stopped a dozen or so feet from the light and waited. The only sound was the
moths pinging against the metal light fixture.
"Are you there?" The voice was muffled, but definitely male, and came from the
other side of the lighted area. Spector cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's me. Why
don't you move into the light so I can see you?"
"I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. Let's keep it that way."
There was a pause. Paper crinkled in the darkness.
"So. Let's hear it." Spector took a long, easy breath. This didn't feel like a
setup, and he had the upper hand.
An arm reached forward into the light. The person was short enough to be a kid,
but the arm was thick with heavy muscle. The fingers on the hand were short. The
edge of a plastic glove peeked out from under the leather one. This guy was
obviously being very careful. The hand held a manilla envelope. "Everything you
need to know is in here."
"Toss it over." The arm threw it toward him. The envelope landed heavily and
skidded to the edge of the lighted area, stirring up dust and paint flecks.
"Like the sound of that. "' Spector walked over to the envelope. Hell, let the
guy see him in the bear mask. It wouldn't matter. He picked the envelope up and
popped it open with a thumb. There were several carefully hatched stacks of
hundred dollar bills, a round-trip ticket to Atlanta in the name of George
Kerby, and a piece of paper that had been folded over twice. Spector figured
there was over fifty thousand.
"Half now. The rest when the job's finished." The voice had moved, and was now