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.He went through all of the rooms and found them empty.Later, he would wonderhow he had missed the guy.True, the apartment was huge, but he d searched it.He d opened closets, even checked under the bed, and he hadn t even founddust.But just as he was about to lift the television out onto the fireescape, a voice behind him said: Man, you the dumbest damn burglar sinceWatergate. Angel turned around.Standing in the doorway, wearing a blue bath towelaround his waist, was the tallest black man Angel had ever seen outside abasketball court.He was at least six-six and totally bald, his chesthairless, his legs smooth.His body was a series of hard curves and knots ofmuscle, almost entirely without fat.In his right hand he held a silencedpistol, but it wasn t the gun that scared Angel.It was the guy s eyes.Theyweren t psycho eyes, for Angel had seen enough of those in prison to know whatthey looked like.No, these eyes were intelligent and watchful, amused and yetstrangely cold.This guy was a killer.A real killer. I don t want no trouble, said Angel. Ain t that a shame? Angel swallowed. Suppose I told you that this isn t what it looks like. It looks like you tryin to steal my TV. I know that s what it looks like, but Angel stopped and decided, for the first time in his life, that honesty mightat this point be the best policy. No, it is what it looks like, he admitted. I am trying to steal your TV. Not anymore you ain t. Angel nodded. I guess I should put it down. In truth, the TV was starting to feel kind ofheavy in his arms.The black guy thought for a moment. No, tell you what, why don t you hold onPage 127 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlto it, he said at last.Angel s face brightened. You mean I can keep it? The gunman almost smiled.At least, Angel thought it might have been a smile;that, or some kind of spasm. No, I said you could holdon to it.You just stay there and keep holdin myTV. Cause if you drop it The smile broadened. I ll kill you. Angel swallowed.Suddenly, the weight of the TV seemed to double. You like country music? asked the guy, reaching for the remote control andcausing the CD player to light up. Nope, said Angel.From the speakers came the sound of Gram Parsons singing We ll Sweep Out theAshes in the Morning. Then you shit out of luck. Angel sighed. Tell me about it. The half-naked man settled himself into a leather armchair, rearranged histowel carefully, and trained the gun on the hapless burglar. No, he said. You tell me& The man named Angel thought about these things, these seemingly random eventsthat had brought him to this place, as he sat in the semidarkness.The finalwords of Clyde Benson, just before Angel had killed him, replayed themselvesin his memory.I made my peace with the Lord.Then you got nothing to worry about.He had asked for mercy but had received none.For so much of his life, Angel had been at the mercy of others: his father;the men who had taken him in back rooms and sweat-filled apartments; the guardHyde in Attica; the prisoner Vance in Rikers, who had decided that Angel scontinued existence was an insult that could not be tolerated, until someoneelse had stepped in and ensured that Vance would no longer be a danger toAngel, or to anyone else.And then he had found this man, the man who now sat in a room below, and anew life of sorts had begun, a life in which he would no longer be the victim,in which he would no longer be at the mercy of others, and he had almoststarted to forget the events that had made him what he was.Until Faulkner had chained him to a shower rail and begun to cut the skinfrom his back, his son and daughter holding the hanging man still, the womanlicking at the sweat that broke from Angel s brow, the man hushing him softlyas he screamed through the gag.He remembered the feel of the blade, thecoldness of it, the pressure on his skin before it broke through and enteredthe flesh beneath.All of the old ghosts had come howling back then, all ofPage 128 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe memories, all of the suffering, and he could taste candy bars in hismouth.Blood and candy bars.Somehow, he had survived.But Faulkner too was still alive, and that was simply too much for Angel tobear.For Angel to live, Faulkner had to die.And what of this other man, the quiet, deliberate black male with thekiller s eyes?Each time he watched his partner dress and undress, Louis s face remainedstudiedly neutral, but he felt his gut clench as the tangled scars wererevealed on the back and thighs, as the other man paused to let the painsubside while pulling on a shirt or pants, sweat dotting his forehead.In thebeginning, in those first weeks after he returned from the clinic, Angel hadsimply neglected to remove his clothes for days, preferring instead to lie,fully clothed, on his stomach until it became necessary to change hisdressings.He rarely spoke of what had occurred on the preacher s island,although it consumed his days and drew out his nights.Louis knew a great deal more about Angel s past than his partner had learnedabout his, Angel recognizing in his reticence a reluctance to reveal himselfthat went beyond mere privacy.But Louis understood, at some minor level, thesense of violation that Angel now felt.Violation, the infliction of pain uponhim by someone older and more powerful, should have been left behind long ago,sealed away in a casket filled with hard hands and candy bars.Now, it was asif the seal had been broken and the past was seeping out like foul gas,polluting the present and the future.Angel was right: Parker should have burned the preacher when he had thechance.Instead, he had chosen some alternative, less certain path, placinghis faith in the force of law while a small part of him, the part of him thathad killed in the past and would, Louis felt certain, kill again in thefuture, recognized that the law could never punish a man like Faulkner becausehis actions went so far beyond anything that the law could comprehend,impacting on worlds gone and worlds yet to exist
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Tematy
IndexJohn Ringo Ghost 01 Ghost
John Norman Gor 01 Tarnsman of Gor
John Norman Gor 23 Renegades of Gor
John DeChancie Castle 07 Castle Spellbound
John Norman Gor 12 Beasts of Gor
John Dalmas Farside 01 The Lion of Farside
John Norman Gor 21 Mercenaries of Gor
Melissa De La Cruz BłękitnokrwiÂści 04 Dziedzictwo
LeÂśnicka Marta Zielska zioła i ziółka
Roberts John Maddox SPQR 3 ÂŚwietokradztwo na misteriach