JК
The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 175 из 213”
He got on his Vespa andheaded toward the Quartiere Spagnolo. Maybe the bracelet is phony, he thought. It could be paste. I hope I don’t make a fool of myself with Lucca. He parked the motorbike in front of a small jewellery store that had a sign in front that read: “Orologia”. The owner, Gambino, was an elderly, wizened man, with an ill-fitting black wig and a mouthful of false teeth. He looked up as Carlo entered.
“Good morning, Carlo. You’re out early.”
“Yeah.”
“What have you got for me today?”
Carlo took out the bracelet and laid it on the counter. “This.”
Gambino picked it up. As he studied it, his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”
“A rich aunt died and left it to me. Is it worth anything?”
“It could be,” Gambino said cautiously.
“Don’t fuck around with me.”
Gambino looked hurt. “Have I ever cheated you?”
“All the time.”
“You boys are always kidding around. I’ll tell you what I will do, Carlo. I’m not sure I can handle this by myself. It’s very valuable.”
Carlo’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“I’ll have to see if I can lay it off somewhere. I’ll give you a call tonight.”
“Okay,” Carlo said. He snatched up the bracelet. “I’ll keep this until I hear from you.”
Carlo left the shop, walking on air. So, he had been right! The sucker was rich, and he was also crazy. Why else would someone give an expensive bracelet to a whore?
In the store, Gambino watched Carlo leave. He thought, What the hell have those idiots got themselves into? From under the counter, he picked up a circular that had been sent to all pawn shops. It had a description of the bracelet he had just seen, but at the bottom, instead of the usual police number to call, there was a special notice: “Notify SIFAR immediately”. Gambino would have ignored an ordinary police circular, as he had hundreds of times in the past, but he knew enough about SIFAR to know that one never crossed them. He hated to lose the profit on the bracelet, but neither did he intend to put his neck in a noose. Reluctantly, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number on the circular.
It was the season of fear, of swirling, deadly shadows. Years earlier, Robert had been sent on a mission to Borneo and had gone into the deep jungle after a traitor. It had been in October, during musim takoot, the traditional head-hunting season, when the jungle natives lived in terror of Balli Salang, the spirit that sought out humans for their blood.
He got on his Vespa andheaded toward the Quartiere Spagnolo. Maybe the bracelet is phony, he thought. It could be paste. I hope I don’t make a fool of myself with Lucca. He parked the motorbike in front of a small jewellery store that had a sign in front that read: “Orologia”. The owner, Gambino, was an elderly, wizened man, with an ill-fitting black wig and a mouthful of false teeth. He looked up as Carlo entered.
“Good morning, Carlo. You’re out early.”
“Yeah.”
“What have you got for me today?”
Carlo took out the bracelet and laid it on the counter. “This.”
Gambino picked it up. As he studied it, his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”
“A rich aunt died and left it to me. Is it worth anything?”
“It could be,” Gambino said cautiously.
“Don’t fuck around with me.”
Gambino looked hurt. “Have I ever cheated you?”
“All the time.”
“You boys are always kidding around. I’ll tell you what I will do, Carlo. I’m not sure I can handle this by myself. It’s very valuable.”
Carlo’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“I’ll have to see if I can lay it off somewhere. I’ll give you a call tonight.”
“Okay,” Carlo said. He snatched up the bracelet. “I’ll keep this until I hear from you.”
Carlo left the shop, walking on air. So, he had been right! The sucker was rich, and he was also crazy. Why else would someone give an expensive bracelet to a whore?
In the store, Gambino watched Carlo leave. He thought, What the hell have those idiots got themselves into? From under the counter, he picked up a circular that had been sent to all pawn shops. It had a description of the bracelet he had just seen, but at the bottom, instead of the usual police number to call, there was a special notice: “Notify SIFAR immediately”. Gambino would have ignored an ordinary police circular, as he had hundreds of times in the past, but he knew enough about SIFAR to know that one never crossed them. He hated to lose the profit on the bracelet, but neither did he intend to put his neck in a noose. Reluctantly, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number on the circular.
It was the season of fear, of swirling, deadly shadows. Years earlier, Robert had been sent on a mission to Borneo and had gone into the deep jungle after a traitor. It had been in October, during musim takoot, the traditional head-hunting season, when the jungle natives lived in terror of Balli Salang, the spirit that sought out humans for their blood.