128994.fb2 Total Recall - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 2

Total Recall - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 2

"Yes, and I'll pay you ten percent of that amount to pay the bail for me."

"Ten percent? That's very… generous," Weems said, writing the figure down oh the piece of paper and then drawing a heart around it.

"The money will be delivered to you in one hour, in small, used bills. Included will be your fee."

"In cash?" Weems asked, writing I.R.S. on the piece of paper but not drawing a heart abound it. Instead he drew a happy face with the three initials forming the nose.

"In cash. Take your fee out, then take the rest and bail out Billy Martin."

"Uh, what am I supposed to do with him after I get him out?" Weems asked. "He did just make himself an orphan, you know."

"There will be a piece of paper in with the money, with an address on it. Give it to him, and then forget about him."

"Forget him? You mean he won't be my client?"

"You are being paid to bail him out, Mr. Weems, not to represent him. Give him the address, forget him, and forget this conversation. You are being paid quite a lot of money for this job. In cash. If I thought that you weren't obeying my instructions to the letter, I'd have to notify the I.R.S. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No," Weems said, drawing a larger heart around the smaller one containing the figure that represented his fee. "No, I wouldn't like it. You're the boss, Mr. —"

"The money will be in your office within the hour, Mr. Weems. There won't be any reason for us to talk again after this."

The man hung up without saying good-bye, leaving a puzzled Harvey Weems holding a dead line.

Fifty-three minutes later, there was a knock on Harvey Weems's office door, and he got up to answer it.

"Mr. Weems?" a young kid asked. He couldn't have been any older than Billy Martin, the one Weems was supposed to bail out.

"That's right, kid. Who're you?"

"I have something for you."

The kid picked up a brown attaché case he had put down alongside the wall next to the door and handed it to the lawyer.

"Is this the money?"

"That's what I was supposed to give you," the boy said, and then he left.

Screw him, Weems thought, closing the door. I wasn't going to tip him, anyway.

He carried the case to his desk and opened it up. Neatly piled stacks of used bills, banded together, stared up at him. For a fleeting moment Weems wondered what was to stop him from taking it all and disappearing. He took out the stacks that comprised his fee and put them in his desk, then closed the case, regretting that he didn't have the courage to find out.

He picked up the case and headed across town to bail out Billy Martin. Weems knew that the little punk was probably guilty of murdering his own parents. The pissant had practically admitted it. But Harvey Weems didn't much care. He had his fee, and he was just glad that he didn't have to defend the little snot to earn it.

That was going to be somebody else's headache.

He thought.

Jail did little to dampen Billy Martin's insolence. Weems could see that on the kid's face.

"What the hell do you want?" the kid demanded.

"I'm the man who bailed you out, son," Weems said.

"So give yourself a medal, fatso," Billy said, brushing past him.

Weems was in his early forties, easily old enough to be Billy Martin's father. He found just the possibility of that disturbing.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You want maybe I should fall to my knees and thank you?" Billy sneered.

"I don't expect anything of you, kid. Come on. The paperwork is done. Let's go outside."

Weems and Billy walked outside and stopped halfway down the front steps of the building. "This is where we part company, sonny," Weems said.

"Fine with me."

"Here."

Billy took the piece of paper Weems was offering him and asked, "What's this supposed to be?"

"That's an address. I suspect it's where the man who put up the money for your bail lives. Maybe he expects you to thank him. 'Bye, Billy," Weems said, and walked away.

If someone had approached him at that moment and asked him a question about Billy Martin, his reply would have been, "Billy who?"

All he had in mind was the money that was locked in his desk.

Billy looked down at the address on the piece of paper; it meant nothing to him. In spite of his bravado, he was curious about the man who was willing to put up all that money to bail him out. When he had first heard about the bail, he thought he knew who it had come from, but the address he now held in his hands was not familiar.

Who could his mysterious benefactor be, then? And if he was willing to pay so much to get him out, how much more might he be willing to cough up?

Greed was the determining factor in Billy Martin's decision to check out the address. If the guy was willing to come across with some more money, Billy could use it to get out of town. He had reasons to leave Detroit, and the criminal charges hanging over his head weren't the half of it.

Billy had little money of his own, which had been returned with the rest of his things when he was released from jail. He decided to hang on to what he did have and walk to the address. He knew the part of town it was in. It wasn't more than half a mile's walk.

He walked down the remainder of the steps and started on his way, oblivious to the fact that he was being followed by three people.

The three young men who were following Billy had their drill down pat. One was immediately behind him, one was across the street, and one was walking ahead of him. The way they had it set up, he was impossible to lose. They followed him discreetly until they approached the run-down section of town where the address on the slip of paper in Billy's pocket could be found.

There was little foot traffic in this part of town. There weren't that many people brave enough— or foolish enough— to walk there. It was a measure of Billy Martin's insolence that walking in that area didn't bother him at all. After all, hadn't he just about beaten a double murder rap? Did the court actually expect him to show up on the date of his trial? He'd be long gone by then.

Actually, he would be long gone by then, but not in the way he was planning.

Closing in on their destination, the three young men started to close ranks on Billy. The man in front of him slowed down while the man behind him quickened his pace, and the one across the street came over to his side.

As a matter of fact, they weren't really men at all. They weren't much older than Billy himself. One of them was the same boy who had delivered the money to Weems's office.

Billy was so intent on reaching his destination that he scarcely noticed the person walking ahead of him until suddenly that person had slowed enough for Billy to overtake him. As Billy came within a few steps of passing him, the other boy stopped abruptly and turned.

"Hi, Billy," he said.