William Shatner Tek War 9 Tek Net

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she told them she'd been with Monkwood up at her parents' joint when somebody
broke in and carried the guy off." He paused, eyeing them. "You know
anything about that?"
Gomez said, "We've been looking for the professor, too, lieutenant.
Apparently somebody else found the hombre first."
"Why would they want him?"
"Same reason," said Jake, "that they want Jill Bernardino."
"Then suppose you tell me how Monkwood's abduction and this explosion here
tonight tie together with--"
"Whoa, cease," warned Georgia. "My clients aren't going to talk to you any
longer, Drexler."
"I need to"
"You need to read over those crumpled-up orders I delivered to you."
Stepping between the partners, she grabbed an am of each and started walking
them away.
The police lieutenant made another angry noise, but said nothing to stop them.
/nzelmo came shuffling into the paneled meeting room with a flat plyowrapped
parcel under his arm. The elderly Teklord was wearing an overcoat, a neo fur
hat with shaggy earflaps and a red near wool scarf around his neck. "Why the
hell don't they heat this place?"
Five other people appeared to be sitting around an ornately carved real wood
conference table at the room's center. From the row of high, narrow windows
you could see foggy central London, although the room was actually elsewhere.
Halting on his slow way to the chair at the table's head, Anzelmo veered and
walked over to where a lean, dark man was seated at mid table "Maurice, I've
been promising you one of my goddamn paintings for--"
"Anzelmo, old friend," said Maurice Pettifaux, "your venerable eyes aren't
serving you too well."
"What the hell are you babbling about?" He took a few more steps forward and
held the parcel out to the French Teklord.
9 9 "I'm in Paris," he explained.
"This is a holoprojection you're trying to make a gift to."
From further down the table a plump young man with curly blond hair said, "You
been promising me a picture." He held out a chubby right hand and made a
give-me motion with his be ringed fingers. "Is it one of your landscapes?"
"That's all I paint, Tony."
"So give it to me and you can send Maury another one."
Anthony Macri's fat fingers continued to beckon.
"Go ahead," said Pettifaux. "Tony is a devoted admirer of your artistic
works."
"Tony is a habitual ass-kisser." Anzelmo hesitated a few seconds, then tossed
the parcel in the plump young man's direction.
"Thanks." Macri sprang free of his chair and caught the painting just before
it hit the real hardwood floor.
Anzehno took off his fur hat and slapped it down on the table as he settled
into his chair. "Okay, my eyes aren't so good anymore," he told the five
figures at the table. "Let's see some hands--how many of you bastards are
really here?"
Macri interrupted his unwrapping of the painting and held up his hand.
A very pale and gaunt man also raised his hand.
Hunched slightly forward, eyes squinting, Anzelmo said, "So only Roger
Giford and Tony Macri are really in the room. Maurice and Alex Forman and
Mrs. Dooley are projections, huh?" He shook his head and his wispy white
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hair fluttered. "You'd think--with something this important in the works--you
bozos could get your butts over here to
England and--"
"Before you start one of your rants," cut in Mrs. Dooley, a large, wide
redheaded lady, "answer us a few questions, pet."
"We got an agenda to follow and--"
"Better answer her," suggested Pettifaux, seeming to lean back in his chair.
"We've talked this over before you showed up."
"How come," asked Mrs. Dooley, "we still don't have any idea where that
Bernardino woman is?"
Anzelmo frowned in the direction of her projection, which was a little fuzzy
around the edges. "We do know where she is," he said. "Found out a couple
hours ago. Some of my people should be closing in on her just about now."
"And," asked Pettifaux, "what about this Professor
Monkwood--I understand he's eluded you as well?"
"We've taken care of the professor," Anzelmo assured them.
"This is marvelous," said Macri, who'd gotten the painting unwrapped.
"Just look at all these wonderful sheep."
Giford said, "Attend to business, my lad."
Ignoring him, the plump young man said to Anzelmo, "Thank you so very much."
Mrs. Dooley said, "We've also been wondering how many other people there
might be who know about what's afoot."
"With the exception of Mrs. Bernardino," Anzelmo told her, "we've tracked
down and silenced them all."
"That's what you assured us last week and yet--"
"What we have to talk about now," Anzelmo cut in, "is our upcoming meeting
with Marriner."
Pettifaux asked, "Has a date been set?"
Anzelmo nodded. "If you can quit butting in with half-assed questions for a
while, I'll explain things. That is, you know, the purpose of this damned
get-together."
"I just love the way you paint sheep," said Macri, chuckling.
Gomez clutching a large bouquet of imitation yellow roses, came strolling back
to where Jake was waiting for him in a shadowy grove of simulated oak trees.
It was an hour or so away from dawn and the sky still held considerable
darkness. "All taken care of, amigo," he announced. "In case we need the
cover." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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