"Mack Reynolds - Day After Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

Hackett snorted. "At any rate, can you drop over? I'm to work in liaison
with you."

"Coming," Larry said. He flicked off the phone, got to his feet and
headed for the door. If they could crack this thing the first day, he'd take
up that vacation where it had been interrupted and possibly be able to
wangle a few more days out of the Boss to boot.

At this time of day, parking would have been a problem, in spite of
automated traffic in the streets. Looking up and down in a quick check to
see if anyone he knew was around to see him, he ducked down into the
underground. It was a slight drop in status for someone on his level to take
the subway. He took a line that delivered him to the high-rise that housed
Secret Service.

The Counterfeit Division of the Secret Service occupied an impressive
section of the governmental building. Larry Woolford flashed his
credentials here and there, explained to guards and receptionists here and
there, and finally wound up in Steve Hackett's office, which was all but a
duplicate of his own in size and decor.

Steve Hackett himself was a fairly accurate carbon copy of Woolford,
barring facial resemblance alone. He wore Harris tweed, instead of
Donegal. Larry Woolford made a note of that. Possibly herringbone was
coming back in. He winced at the thought of a major change in his
wardrobe; it'd cost a fortune. However, you couldn't get the reputation for
being out of style.

They had worked on a few cases before when Steve Hackett had been
assigned to the presidential bodyguard, and although they weren't good
friends, they cooperated well.

Steve came to his feet and shook hands. "Thought you were going to be
down in Florida bass fishing this month. You like your work so well you
can't stay away, or is it a matter of trying to impress your chief?"

Larry growled, "Fine thing, fine thing. Secret Service bogs down and
they've got to call me in to clean up the mess."

Steve motioned him to a chair and immediately went serious. "Do you
know anything about pushing queer, Woolford?"

"That means passing counterfeit money, doesn't it? All I know is what's
in the Tri-Di crime shows."

"Oh, great. I can see you're going to be one hell of a lot of help. Have you
gotten anywhere at all on the possibility that the stuff might be coming in
from abroad?"