"Destroyer 009 - Murder's Shield.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

McGurk raised his mug and smiled.
"To two dumb donkeys-us," he said.
"To two dumb donkeys-us," said Duffy.
They clinked mugs and drank and walked into the living room, letting the remaining ice cubes melt in the tray.
"I'd have two choices for who's doing these killings," said Duffy. "Soldiers or cops. Somebody professional."
"Okay, soldiers or cops," said McGurk.
"Cops," said Duffy. "Soldiers couldn't find their rectums if not located near toilet seats."
McGurk smiled broadly.
"Okay, cops. Why haven't there been identifications? Cops' faces are known around their cities, especially in cities under a half-million."
Duffy leaned forward on the torn leather couch. His face broke into a grin, one former professional making judgment on current professionals.
"That's the beauty of it. I figure it's reciprocal hits." He put his mug down on the wooden floor and reinforced his explanation with his hands. He put them out wide to either side, then crossed them to the far sides. "New York cops make a hit in Harrisburg. Harrisburg makes a hit in Connecticut. Connecticut cops make a hit in New York or what have you. The locals set it up; the outsiders hit. It's foolproof. You know the hardest thing in an assigned hit is finding the sonofabitch of a target. If it weren't for the Maquis that knew France, we couldn't have found our way into Paris."
McGurk shook his head.
"You Fordham guys were always so fucking smart. We could always tell a Fordham guy. He read books."
"So what do you think?" asked Duffy.
"I think you're right. What do you have to do with this?"
"I'm going to be on the list for hits soon. I don't want to die."
McGurk looked puzzled. "Frankie, you're a congressman. An honest congressman. We've been talking about the scum of the earth. Pimps. Heroin financiers. Whore recruiters. Crooked judges. Mafiosi button men. Where does that come up to you? Where does that even come close to you? What the hell is the matter with you, Frankie?" McGurk's voice became throbbing angry, a pleading disgust. "Look at the facts, dammit. You're not some cocka-doodle-doo broad out of a consciousness-raising session where they come in looking to jerk themselves off. You're a liberal but you think. You deal in facts. But this time, you've got nothing. No facts. You might as well be out in a street screaming slogans. Stop the killing. Stop the killing. Stop the killing." McGurk's voice hit the rhythm of the streets, the mindless chanting of demonstrators. But there was no smile on Duffy's face, as McGurk had expected when he made a good point. Suddenly, surprisingly, there were tears and Frank Duffy was crying for the first time in McGurk's memory.
"Oh, Jesus," said Frank Duffy and lowered his head to his hands.
"Hey, Frank, what's wrong? C'mon, stop that. Stop that, will you? C'mon," said McGurk. He comforted his friend with his arm.
"Oh, Jesus, Bill," said Duffy.
"What's the matter, dammit? What's the matter?"
"Mafiosi button man is the matter."
"Yeah?"
"I never mentioned Mafiosi button men. I never mentioned one. So you killed him, too. You had your people kill him too."
McGurk threw his mug across the room where it shattered against the pine wall with a splat. He rose in anger, punching the palm of his hand.
"Why do you have to be so smart? Why do you Fordham guys have to be so frigging smart? Frankie, why do you have to be so smart?"
Duffy saw the ice cubes and water begin to stain the wooden floor. He rose and tapped McGurk on the back.
McGurk jumped, then said, "Oh," when he saw the offer of Duffy's mug.
"What are we going to do?" asked Duffy.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do, smart Fordham guy. You stop your investigation and if any of the people come near you, I'll powder them like sugar cubes is what we're gonna do."
"You knew about the investigation?"
"And other things. We're good and we're growing. We're gonna give this country back to the decent people. The hard-working people. The honest people. This country has been turning into a cesspool long enough. We're just gonna get rid of the crap."
"Impossible, Bill, you can't do it. Because you start with crap and then you move onto anyone else who gets in your way. What's going to be the check on you? What happens when your people start taking money to miss? Or start free-lancing?"
"We'll take care of them too."
"It's the we who'll be doing it, and who's to stop them?"
"If that happens, I'll turn on them."
"No, you won't. You'll be too happy doing what you love best."
"And you might even be president then. Did you ever think of that?"
Duffy took back his drink. "We have any ice left?"
"Yeah. Plenty. Plenty."
"Okay, I'll get some more. Look, I want to phone Mary Pat and tell her good-bye and… uh, I want to say good-bye to my son. I don't imagine you'll let me reach a priest."
"What is this talk?" said McGurk angrily.
"You're going to get orders to kill me tonight. You left word where you can be reached?"
"Not at the department."
"No. With your real boss. Whoever you're really working for now. He couldn't let his killer arm go wandering around out of touch for any length of time. You are the killer arm?"
"That's right. So what do you have to worry about? You're the one person I can't kill. You're golden, sweetheart."
"I'm dead, Bill. Dead meat."
"Okay, dead meat. We may have some frozen hamburgers. You want one?"
"No."
They drank in silence as the hamburgers sizzled. A few times, McGurk attempted jokes. "How does it feel to be dead?" or "Wow, are you lucky. I haven't killed you for five minutes."