[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
liaison is like having God cry at your wedding ... All right, then, private consulting; don't
bureaucratic on me now, for Christ's sake."
When Charlie broke the connection, his cheeks ached from smiling. He immediately made a
to Lake Arrowhead, a two-hour drive away, and enticed Rhone Althouse to risk the trip. It
news, said Charlie, too heavy and too light to carry aver telephone lines.
There was heavier news to be shared by the time Althouse drove up in his cover identity, carr
a five-gallon bottle of distilled water into the van der Rohe miniature. As Charlie had spoken
Maurice Everett, a traffic watch helicopter had exploded in midair over South Pasadena while a
its live remote broadcast on a Los Angeles station.
The debris had fallen on a freeway cloverleaf to tangle in the clotted weekend traffic, with e
known fatalities and over thirty injuries, including the chain-reaction wrecks that resu
Eyewitnesses had seen the faint scrawl of smoke that led from the ground to terminate in the a
firebloom of metal, fuel, and flesh. Again, the group calling itself Fat'ah clamored for recognitio
a direct hit with its SAM. But this time the news services reported no compet-ing claims. On
contrary, both the Palestine Liberation Organization and the more recent Chicano `Raza' gr
called to make specific denials.
It was hideous news, Althouse agreed, dropping into his favorite chair in Charlie's living ro
"But there's a meta-message under it," he said. "It says maybe there's hope now. Three months
every unshelled nut in California would've been jostling the others to claim responsibility. At
today they're making a show of clean hands for a pure civilian atrocity." He glanced sharpl
Charlie. "Now for the good news I risked my ass for."
Charlie told him.
The Althouse reaction was mixed and thoughtful: "I'll be glad to see Maury when I wander
the set, but I dunno, Charlie, all of us eggs in one basket?" He lifted one hand, made it waver in
air.
"If you're going to lay Cervantes on me, try Twain: he said put all your eggs in one basket,
watch that basket," Charlie retorted, pleased to recall his classics.
"Twain was a lousy administrator," Althouse grunted. "It's getting pretty late in the game
aphorisms, Charlie. You and I and Maury Everett shouldn't even occupy the same hemisphere!"
"Aw, Rhone, don't be skittish," Charlie said gently. "We've started a war, right?" He go
answering nod. "So think of this as a nonstop, floating summit meeting."
"All right," Althouse flashed, jerking a thumb toward the sky, "and you can think of that SAM
a commando raid. We're all crowding into L.A. together, Charlie, and God protect us if this leak
the wrong people." He donned a horrendous prissy smile, spoke in a nasal sac-charine fals
"What great big handsome nose-bobbed FCC Commissioner, initials M. E., is hiding out on the
with what terrorist-baiting NBN star? Are they just good friends, or is it one-on-one, fellas?"
dropped the sham and glowered, "That's all you need, bubbe."
"If that should happen, we'd split," Charlie shrugged.
Althouse drew an imaginary line with his forefinger from throat to groin. "You might get s
Charlie. That Fat'ah bunch is getting too close." He stared into the gloom at nothing in partic
"Too damn close," he muttered.
Silently, Charlie scared up a pack of cards. He could think of no better answer.
THURSDAY, 8 JANUARY, 1981:
In the heyday of Paramount Studios it had been easier to locate watering troughs of the g
gaffers, construction men and engineers who form an utterly indispensable lower eche-lon of
visual arts industry. Yet every shift of media brought shifting locations, and many a gaudy gin
has passed through its own emi-nence to become musty and forgotten as techni-cians found w
and cheap bar whiskey, in other sections of Los Angeles.
It was Chaim Mardor, moving quietly among the devotees of arts and crafts, who first learned
site of one after-hours bar in current vogue with Industry people. There are many industries nort
Wilshire Boulevard, but only one capital-I Industry.
Hakim's instructions to Leah Talith were explicit. "Call me from each location before you m
inquiries, Talith. I must know your sequence. These people may have their own security elem
and you could arouse interest."
She applied a fresh layer of scarlet to her mouth, cinched her belt to pull the blouse more tig
over her breasts. "How well you put it, Hakim," she said, studying the image in her compact mirr
He swept his eyes over her body, impassive. "How readily you pose as a prostitute,"
remarked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl ocenkijessi.opx.pl
liaison is like having God cry at your wedding ... All right, then, private consulting; don't
bureaucratic on me now, for Christ's sake."
When Charlie broke the connection, his cheeks ached from smiling. He immediately made a
to Lake Arrowhead, a two-hour drive away, and enticed Rhone Althouse to risk the trip. It
news, said Charlie, too heavy and too light to carry aver telephone lines.
There was heavier news to be shared by the time Althouse drove up in his cover identity, carr
a five-gallon bottle of distilled water into the van der Rohe miniature. As Charlie had spoken
Maurice Everett, a traffic watch helicopter had exploded in midair over South Pasadena while a
its live remote broadcast on a Los Angeles station.
The debris had fallen on a freeway cloverleaf to tangle in the clotted weekend traffic, with e
known fatalities and over thirty injuries, including the chain-reaction wrecks that resu
Eyewitnesses had seen the faint scrawl of smoke that led from the ground to terminate in the a
firebloom of metal, fuel, and flesh. Again, the group calling itself Fat'ah clamored for recognitio
a direct hit with its SAM. But this time the news services reported no compet-ing claims. On
contrary, both the Palestine Liberation Organization and the more recent Chicano `Raza' gr
called to make specific denials.
It was hideous news, Althouse agreed, dropping into his favorite chair in Charlie's living ro
"But there's a meta-message under it," he said. "It says maybe there's hope now. Three months
every unshelled nut in California would've been jostling the others to claim responsibility. At
today they're making a show of clean hands for a pure civilian atrocity." He glanced sharpl
Charlie. "Now for the good news I risked my ass for."
Charlie told him.
The Althouse reaction was mixed and thoughtful: "I'll be glad to see Maury when I wander
the set, but I dunno, Charlie, all of us eggs in one basket?" He lifted one hand, made it waver in
air.
"If you're going to lay Cervantes on me, try Twain: he said put all your eggs in one basket,
watch that basket," Charlie retorted, pleased to recall his classics.
"Twain was a lousy administrator," Althouse grunted. "It's getting pretty late in the game
aphorisms, Charlie. You and I and Maury Everett shouldn't even occupy the same hemisphere!"
"Aw, Rhone, don't be skittish," Charlie said gently. "We've started a war, right?" He go
answering nod. "So think of this as a nonstop, floating summit meeting."
"All right," Althouse flashed, jerking a thumb toward the sky, "and you can think of that SAM
a commando raid. We're all crowding into L.A. together, Charlie, and God protect us if this leak
the wrong people." He donned a horrendous prissy smile, spoke in a nasal sac-charine fals
"What great big handsome nose-bobbed FCC Commissioner, initials M. E., is hiding out on the
with what terrorist-baiting NBN star? Are they just good friends, or is it one-on-one, fellas?"
dropped the sham and glowered, "That's all you need, bubbe."
"If that should happen, we'd split," Charlie shrugged.
Althouse drew an imaginary line with his forefinger from throat to groin. "You might get s
Charlie. That Fat'ah bunch is getting too close." He stared into the gloom at nothing in partic
"Too damn close," he muttered.
Silently, Charlie scared up a pack of cards. He could think of no better answer.
THURSDAY, 8 JANUARY, 1981:
In the heyday of Paramount Studios it had been easier to locate watering troughs of the g
gaffers, construction men and engineers who form an utterly indispensable lower eche-lon of
visual arts industry. Yet every shift of media brought shifting locations, and many a gaudy gin
has passed through its own emi-nence to become musty and forgotten as techni-cians found w
and cheap bar whiskey, in other sections of Los Angeles.
It was Chaim Mardor, moving quietly among the devotees of arts and crafts, who first learned
site of one after-hours bar in current vogue with Industry people. There are many industries nort
Wilshire Boulevard, but only one capital-I Industry.
Hakim's instructions to Leah Talith were explicit. "Call me from each location before you m
inquiries, Talith. I must know your sequence. These people may have their own security elem
and you could arouse interest."
She applied a fresh layer of scarlet to her mouth, cinched her belt to pull the blouse more tig
over her breasts. "How well you put it, Hakim," she said, studying the image in her compact mirr
He swept his eyes over her body, impassive. "How readily you pose as a prostitute,"
remarked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]