"Shadow Men" - читать интересную книгу автора (King Jonathon)

"OK."

"St. Rafferty's tonight, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Go get 'em, kid. An' give that pussy quarterback of theirs a shot for me, eh?"

"OK, see ya," I said, and walked away, refusing to look back, even at the sound of my front door opening.

The ringing telephone woke her, and Richards's movement pulled me out of my own fitful sleep.

"You want to let it go?" I said.

"I would," she groaned, getting up, "if it had stopped on the ninth damn ring."

She went inside. I blinked the haze out of my eyes and tried to judge the hour by the lightening sky to the east that swayed back and forth above me with the rock of the hammock. Twenty seconds later Richards returned with her portable in hand and an unpleasant look in her face.

"It's for you, and the asshole won't I.D. himself or leave a message," she said, then pressed her palm over the mouthpiece. "And I don't think I appreciate you giving out this number as a place to reach you, either."

She pushed the phone at me, spun, and walked back inside.

"Who is this?" I said into the phone, Richards's anger quickly transferring into me. The line was silent, but open.

"Hello!"

"Stay out of this Noren issue, Mr. Freeman," a man's voice said. "It's ancient history, and believe me, you're better off without it."

I tried to process the words, tried to come up with something to keep the guy talking. But before I could, the line went dead.