"Дон Пендлтон. The Violent Streets ("Палач" #41) " - читать интересную книгу автора

"You don't need that," he said. "I'm not the enemy."
"So you say." Her voice was firm, no longer waterlogged.
Bolan shrugged impassively. "If I wanted you dead, I could have done it
in there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom beyond.
"Or I could have let Mutt and Jeff finish what they started."
There was a trace of uncertainty in the lady cop's eyes now, and the
stubby muzzle of her weapon slipped a notch lower, freezing somewhere on a
level with the Executioner's groin.
"So... who are you?" she asked at last "What are you?"
Bolan moved a cautious step forward before the .38 snapped up again to
freeze him in his tracks.
"An ally, Fran. Perhaps a friend."
For the first time that night, the lady cop looked not frightened or
exhausted, but honestly surprised.
"I didn't drop in here tonight by accident," Bolan assured her. "I came
looking for you."
The gun was slipping lower again, and Bolan sidled another step closer,
farther into the room.
"So did those two in there," Fran Traynor retorted. "Are they both...
dead?"
Bolan nodded. "We have to start thinking about who sent them after you,
and why."
"We?"
She clearly was having a hard time accepting this dark stranger as a
friend, even though he had just saved her life.
"I'm an ally," Bolan repeated patently. "For the moment, your enemies
are mine."
"Who are you?" she asked again. She was sounding increasingly
desperate.
"We can talk about that after I finish cleaning up and get you safely
out of here," he said.
The .38's hammer snapped back into full cock under her thumb.
"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are they," she said sharply. Her
gun flicked away in a swift gesture toward the bathroom and its lifeless
tenants.
Bolan forced a casual shrug. "Suit yourself. If you'd rather wait here
for the backup team..."
Fran Traynor tossed her head defiantly, flinging wet strands of hair
back from her face.
"I can take care of myself, Mr... whatever. And I can have a police
squad here within minutes."
Bolan nodded toward the bathroom. "Those guys were puppets, Fran. Think
about it. I wouldn't make any calls until I found out who's been pulling the
strings."
That shocked her, and the .38's muzzle did a rapid slide in the
direction of Bolan's ankles. He knew that he could take it from her easily,
but he let her keep it.
"What do you suggest?" she asked after a long pause.
"First, you get dressed. Meanwhile, I take out the trash, and then
together we find you a safe place to stay. After that, we must talk."