John Birmingham Axis of Time 3 Final Impact (Ballantine)

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. Okay, Albert.Did you get& uh, what s his name, this Kennedy guy? Mr.Doyle, sir. Did you get him some coffee and a roll or something? Can t leave himscratching his ass, I suppose. Chef has sent up a tray of fresh pastries and a pot of coffee, sir.Mr.Doyle understands you have beenindisposed.He is happy to wait.Slim Jim brayed out a short, sharp laugh. I ll bet.Okay.Gimme ten, fifteenminutes and I ll be down. Very good, sir. And don t worry about Snider, I ll see to him myself. Yes, sir.As his butler disappeared inside, looking like some windup figure on a cuckooclock, Slim Jim drained his coffee and ambled over to the prone form of ArtieSnider.He was in uniform, sort of.His pants were down around his ankles, andhis shirt had ridden up to expose a growing paunch.A couple of the bimboswere stirring on the far side of the pool.One of them waved lazily and hewaved back, smiling as best he could with his hangover.It never hurt to befriendly, even with the little guys.Especially with the little guys, in fact.Ms.O Brien had taught him that, too.The little guys were fighting this war,she always said.They were gonna win it, too.And the world would be theirs.And his, if he kept em on his side.Music suddenly came on, blaring from hidden speakers.Loud enough to wake thehard-core hangers-on.No doubt on Albert s order.Some dumbass uptime songcalled Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. The butler s idea of a joke. Hey, Artie, said Slim Jim, toeing his friend on the side of the head,getting a nice feel of the unconscious blonde s thigh while he was at it. Getup, man.I gotta go, and those war bond assholes are gonna be looking for yousoon.Snider grunted and nuzzled deeper into the starlet s crotch.He didn t looklike he was going anywhere quickly.Slim Jim shrugged, walked over to thepool, scooped up a mug of cold water, and returned to pour it all over them.The effect was instantaneous.Snider came awake with a roar, and his companionwith a squeal. What the fuck? he cried out, shaking his head like a wet dog.Page 136ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Gotta get a move on, buddy.Time s a-wasting.You can crash here if youwant, but you got that gig up in Frisco later this morning.You re gonna catchhell if you blow em off again. Yeah, right, the big man grunted. Frisco& right.He had some trouble getting to his feet.His knee reconstruction, whichwouldn t have even been possible without twenty-first technology and know-how,still wasn t perfect.Slim Jim gave him a helping hand.The reek of souralcohol on his breath was something to behold. You too, darlin , he said, gently digging his foot into the girl s behindas she rolled over.It was an outstanding behind, after all, and just sittingthere, begging to be interfered with.Her bikini top, one of the newteensy-weensy ones, fell off as she got up and she giggled unself-consciously,giving Slim Jim an eyeful and an unspoken invitation.Dames,he thought.They never fucking change, no matter what part of townthey re from.Artie was too far under the weather to notice, and probably wouldn t havecared anyway.They d shared plenty of women before. We ain t gonna surf today, Jimbo? he asked. I thought we was gonna have alesson up the coast? The water s good for me leg, you know. We were, shrugged Slim Jim. But I got this Kennedy asshole downstairswants a piece of me first.And you got your gig in Frisco.I ll have my guysfly you there and back.You shoulda been there already.We can party tonight. Me, too? asked the girl.What was her fucking name? Sure, darlin , said Slim Jim. Bring some friends.We ll rip it up.The music had woken everyone by now.Slim Jim could have sworn it was gettinglouder.It was surely getting more uncomfortable on the beach as the sunclimbed higher.One of the sailors rolled off his inflatable mattress with asplash and a holler.That awful fucking pop song finished and a new track cameon.Crunching guitars and gravel-voiced singer.He recognized it immediatelyas the Foo Fighters last single, Innocence, one of his faves.His flexipadwas programmed to wake him with it every morning. What is thatnoise ? asked the bimbo. That is the unborn genius of Dave Grohl, sweetheart, he informed her. Havesome fucking respect. So you figured out which one you re putting into the White House yet? hejoked. Or is old Joe planning to give all of his boys a turn?The Kennedy clan fixer, Mike Doyle, didn t bother to hide his aversion.Hedidn t like dealing with Slim Jim, and they both knew it.Mrs.Davidson slittle boy had spent a good deal of his former life getting the shit kickedout of him one way or another by the likes of Doyle.The guy screamedex-cop,and even though he was now taking his coin from an old bootlegger, it musthave galled him something awful to have to deal with somebody like Slim Jim asan equal or even, let s face it, as a superior.Because in the end, Doyle wasPage 137ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmljust a spear-carrier.He rolled his shoulders around inside an off-the-rack suit.It was an oldercontemporary cut, unlike Slim Jim s stylish uptime number, and it pulled tightin all the wrong places as he leaned forward. Mr.Kennedy understood that he had a deal with you for your support in thismatter, whenever he asked for it.You said you d back his choice for theprimaries with money and votes.What, are you backing out or something? Yougot your own plans, is that it?Slim Jim enjoyed the sensation of being able to say nothing for so long, itbecame uncomfortable.He enjoyed the view out of his picture windows, theexpensive fit-out of the conference room, the acres of polished oak table infront of him. Nah, he said at last. I don t have my own plans.I gave Joe my word, andthat s as good as ink on paper.Better, in fact.I got a lawyer who s anabsolute fucking wonder at blowing holes in bits of paper.You tell him, whenone of the boys is ready to run, I ll do whatever I can to help& He left the sentence hanging long enough for Doyle to understand more wascoming. But? said the fixer. But, added Slim Jim, I m still waiting to hear from him about a littlefavor that I asked for back in Hyannisport. Uh-huh, said Doyle, warily. And that d be? The Zone legislation, said Slim Jim. The sunset clause.Your boss promisedme he would help kill it in the House.You make sure he understands that I mserious.I want that clause nixed.We got a good thing going out here and wedon t need the apple cart tipped over by a bunch of know-nothing pinheadstrying to wind the clock back.It d be very bad for business.Doyle sized him up as though he were still a small-time grifter trying topass a rubber check. That it? he asked. That s it, said Slim Jim. Okay then, I ll tell him.Can I get you later today, if he s got an answer?Slim Jim shook his head. Nope, he said. I m going for a surf with a buddy.You can call Maria O Brien and tell her.17D-DAY + 32.4 JUNE 1944.0852 HOURS.BERLIN.He might have expected more panic.The fact that most Berliners appeared tobe going about their business may have spoken to something commendable in theGerman spirit.Page 138ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlOn the other hand, Ambassador Oshima thought it more likely that they simplydidn t know what had happened.Propaganda Minister G�bbels kept a very tightrein.All that Oshima hadpublicly read or heard about the fighting in the east wasthat a poorly coordinated sneak attack on a Wehrmacht regiment at the edge ofthe Demilitarized Zone had been repulsed, with heavy enemy casualties [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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