"Smith, Anthony Neil - The Dealbreaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Anthony Neil)

The big guy behind me said, "Doc, I’d prefer to stay just in case—"

"Not necessary. He’s still the same man." Doc took a seat on the stool opposite mine.

Jacobs and the other thugs mumbled Yessirs and left the kitchen. The injured Chinese guy leaned against the refrigerator. Doc pushed his coat back and yanked two guns from his waistband—my .40 and the Sig. Doc pulled the magazines, racked them back to eject the bullets in the chambers, then laid them side by side on the island.

"These both have numbers on them. They’re traceable," Doc said.

"The Sig is faked, just to keep wheels spinning. The other one is mine. Never thought about it before."

"So, why’d you shoot George?"

I shrugged. "Intuition?"

That put a slight grin on Doc’s face.

I looked out a side window, but all I saw was a generic suburban hedge and darkness. Doc snapped his fingers in my face.

"Your name is Dreier," he said.

"I think you’re the first one of this bunch to get it right."

"It’s not so easy. See, these men call you ‘Collins’ because that is who you are. You used to be their colleague. And my partner, as well."

What a crock. The whole thing was a steaming wet pile. And I suppose that was what my expression got across to him.

"And you don’t remember one bit of that life, do you? I’ve been checking on you for months now, thought we had lost you for good until that bust you were spotted at back in the winter. It had been five years since I’d seen you."

"This is all a big mistake, really. I don’t know any of you."

Doc cocked his head to the side. "Wally. Wally Collins. You don’t remember at all. It’s me, man. Doc. Doc Kim. Buddies. Partners."

I would have remembered anything they wanted me to if it meant I could walk out of there, but playing along would mean a pop quiz on the details, and I really didn’t know

Doc past his reputation.

I shook my head. "I’m sorry. I wish I could be him for you, but that’s not me."

He sighed and reached into his coat pocket. I braced myself for another needle, but Doc came out with an envelope. He opened the flap and emptied two photographs onto the table, lined them between the guns. One was a head shot of a beautiful light-skinned black woman, hair pulled back, smiling, big thrilled eyes. The other was of the same woman, but with a young boy beside her. He had a touch of fuzzy hair up top. Huge smile.

"You remember? Her name’s Tamara. His name’s Hank."

"After Hank Aaron," I said.

Doc’s mouth went wide. "Yes! Exactly."

I kept my gaze on the photo. "I was just guessing."

The Chinese guy at the refrigerator had wandered closer, looking at me like I was a zoo exhibit. I craned my neck for another glance out the windows. Any little details to identify?