[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Shoot, stop. The words were short but took a long time traveling from his
brain to his ann. He whipped out his pistol and swung it around to aim.
His arm had the message, but someone had forgotten to inform his fingers.
The .38 went flying out of his hand, skidded to a stop against the curb.
Francisco stared helplessly as the backside of the tow truck vanished.
Then he sagged against the slugmobile, muttering to himself in his own
tongue. A good linguist would have blushed at some of the phrases.
Sykes lay as he'd fallen the previous night. A distant pounding in his
ears finally woke him. As his eyes opened against the intrusive light he
became aware that the pounding wasn't all that far away. It came, in
fact, from the other side of his front door.
"This better be good news or money," he mumbled. He found his feet, was
mildly surprised to discover that they were still attached to his ankles,
and stumbled toward the door, yawning and scratching his crotch. "I'm
coming, I'm coming. Give it a rest, already!"
The door opened to reveal his partner standing, or rather swaying, on the
other side. His face looked like hefl. In his right hand he held tile C-4
charge, neatly packaged in a clean handkerchief. This the detective
passed to a bemused Sykes.
"Hold this." He stumbled in, bumping Sykes out of the way as be made a
beeline for the kitchen sink. "I believe that I am feeling extremely
horrible. No, correct that. I am certain of it."
Sykes watched him bend over the sink and run the cold
134
water, then turned his attention to the handful Francisco had passed to
him. Even in his still swozzled state he recognized it for what it was.
Examining it respectfully, he turned and walked back to join his partner.
Francisco was running cold water over his mottled pate.
"Where'd you get thisT
The Newcomer winced. "Please, Matt. Not so loud. Would you have a towel?"
"A towel. Yeah, sure." Sykes found a dishrag, tossed it at his partner.
"You want bubble bath and shampoo? Well, bubble bath, anyway."
Francisco straightened as he mopped his skull. "No, thank you. Under the
circumstances the plain water was quite sufficient. As to your question,
a man, a human, was wiring that to your car, beneath the dash. I am
certain his intention was to connect it to the ignition."
"Naw," said Sykes sarcastically as he turned the C-4 over in his hands,
"he was gonna wrap it and put 'do not open 'til Christmas' on it."
Page 76
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"I didn't get a good look at him." Francisco blinked at the window and
suddenly panicked. "The sun is up! It's daytime! "
Sykes stared at his partner. "I guess that's why they jumped you to
Detective. Unsurpassed powers of observation."
The sarcasm was lost on the frantic Francisco. "I must call my wife!
Where is the telephone?" He looked around wildly.
"Where you left it last night," Sykes told him evenly. "On the wall." As
the Newcomer hurried to the phone, Sykes took note of the position of the
hands on the batterypowered wall clock above the stove. "Make it fast.
We're late clocking in."
For the first time since they'd started working together, Sykes was the
better-looking of the two as they entered the precinct house. While his
partner had babbled none too coherently on the phone, Sykes had taken the
time to shower and change. Francisco entered still clad in the rumpled
suit he'd slept in, his underwear a day old and the taste in his mouth
considerably older despite elephantine
105
doses of Sykes's mouthwash. Apparently the chemicals in human mouthwash
didn't do anything but irrigate the flora in a Newcomer's mouth. The result
was that at close range, Francisco's breath reeked of sour milk.
They neared Sykes's desk. The expression on his partner's face would have
done justice to a retiring mortician. The desk was as well organized as
Sykes's apartment. As he'd explained on more than one occasion to inquiring
passersby, this condition was maintained deliberately. It prevented anyone
from stealing from him, since absolutely nothing atop the desk was arranged
in any kind of order. No potential thief could find what he was looking
for. Neither could Sykes, but that never slowed him down.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]