"Destroyer 013 - Acid Rock.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

"The baddest."
"Do you know where electricity comes from?"
"Good karma, man."
"Generators," Remo said. "Generators. Air polluting, high f aluting, generators."
"I never heard that one, man."
"Which one?"
"The lyric. That's a freak, man. Bitchen. Generators, air polluting, high faluting, generators. Baddest."
So Remo, unable to discourse in this language, shut up. He watched the man with the scar fiddle around one tower support and then another, but in such a casual way it looked as if he were just lounging around.
The Dead Meat Lice were to start at seven P.M. At six-thirty, it was announced over the loudspeakers, which could have cut through a
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swamp, that there would be a forty-five minute delay. At seven P.M., there was an announcement of an hour's delay. At eight-thirty, it was announced any minute now. At nine P.M., as a few harsh floodlights lit the periphery of the area, separating it from the darkness beyond, it was announced: "Here they come."
There was screaming and groaning but they didn't come until ten P.M. When, under a large spotlight, a gallows was raised on the stage. Out of the blackness behind the spot swung a body on a rope. It twitched as though it were being hanged, if hanging required pelvic action similar to coitus. Then the rope seemed to break, and the body landed on its feet, alive in a skin-tight white jumpsuit cut in a wide V to the pubic hairs. Pieces of meat hung from the white satin suit, and already blood was seeping into the shiny material.
A microphone rose from the stage to man height, and Maggot spoke.
"Hello animals. You're dirt. Dirt waits hi the field," he yelled. This was greeted by cheers. In the cheering, Remo noticed the blond man with the Indian headband make his move. The weapon he had been carrying was a small-handled ice pick. Only Remo saw it move toward Vickie Stoner, who was slowly awakening next to Remo. Remo moved on the pick. He shattered the driving wrist with his left hand and spun the boy around. The youngster's eyes widened with surprise, first at the numbness in his attacking hand, and then at what was happening at his heart. Nothing was happening. It wasn't beating. It was jelly. He collapsed, spitting internal blood, as the crowd obliviously cheered on.
The Dead Meat Lice crawled and tumbled onto
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the stage. There was a drummer who doubled as the beater of the gong. In a round enclosure from the right stage rose a piano, organ, and clavichord, with another Dead Meat Louse seated in the middle. A frowzy-headed man with two wind instruments pulled himself up onstage. The crowd cheered the arrival of all three Lice.
Maggot waved his arm and they sang. They sang what Remo made out to be:
"Bedred, mother-racking, tortoise, humpanny, rah, rah, humpanny, mother-racking, bedstead, rackluck."
"Bitchen," screamed Vickie Stoner in Remo's ear, and then the tower to their left gave a wiggle with an explosive pop, then another pop, and people were falling from it and it was coming down like a sledgehammer right where Vickie Stoner was jumping up and down, screaming along with everyone else.
The crowd would hamper free movement, so Remo grabbed Vickie like a loaf of bread and drove his way through bodies to what he felt would be the safest place. The tower came whoomphing down, eight tons of it, crushing a ten-yard-wide stretch of people with a heavy, dull splat.
Remo and Vickie were safe. They were at the base of the tower, where it had blown off its foundations head high, just where the big man with the scarred face had been casually moving his hands around.
"Bedred, mother-racking, tortoise humpanny, rah, rah, rah, humpanny, bedstead rackluck."
"They're going on," someone shrieked. "They're going on."
"Dead Meat Lice go on and on. Rule forever, Dead Meat Lice," yelled Maggot, and this was
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met by cheers blanketing the moans of the victims of the tower.
"Rule forever, Dead Meat Lice," yelled Vickie Stoner. Remo grabbed her by the neck and trundled her off the periphery of the field and out through the gate, where people were not taking money anymore.
"Getcha paws off me, pig," yelled Vickie Stoner, but Remo kept her moving.
"Get offa me," yelled Vickie. She stopped yelling when she saw where she was being taken. She was going to the motel door where "somebody" was.
"He wants me, right?" she gasped. "He sent for me, right? Somebody sent for me. Who is he? You can't say, right? Oh, you have a key. A key to his room. You have a key to His room."
Remo no longer had to hold her by the neck. Vickie Stoner jumped up and down excitedly.
"I thought you were going to do a job on me," she said. "I didn't know. I've had Nels Borson. You know Nels Borson? I had him. I had him good. And I had the Hindenburghs. Right at the airport. They were waiting to leave. I had them all."
Remo opened the door, and when Vickie Stoner saw the wisp of an imperial-looking Oriental in midnight-blue kimono sitting on a mat, meditating, she emitted a little excited groan.
Remo shut the door.
"Oh, heavy, heavy, heavy. Rule over all. Rule forever," she said, and knelt before Chiun. Chiun allowed imperious recognition that something was in his presence. Overwhelmed by the slow, arrogant movement, Vickie Stoner pressed her forehead into the mat.
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"From the youth of your country, you should learn," said Chiun to Remo.
"Wait'll you find out what she wants."
"You're the baddest," sighed Vickie.
"This little girl already knows more than you, Remo."
"Rule over all," said Vickie.
"And she perceives my proper place."
"Who are you?"
"The Master of Sinanju."
"Fuh-reak out. Sinanju. Bitchen Sinanju, man."
"See, Remo?"
"She doesn't know what you're talking about, Little Father. She hasn't heard of Sinanju. Maybe a half-dozen people alive know Sinanju, and they don't talk about it."
"Diamonds are not more valuable because everyone has them," said Chiun.
"Good night," said Remo, and went to the bathroom to see if he could find some cotton for his ears, knowing that would not help because the vibrations of Maggot and the Dead Meat Lice carried through the walls and the floor of the motel.