|
|
|
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
He popped an aspirin as he read that the body had lacked certain
distinguishing marks known to have marred the real body of General Nogeira,
dictator of Bananama.
One was that the dictator was known to have had five general's stars tattooed
to his naked shoulders, so that even in disguise he would be identifiable to
his allies.
The Everglades body had only four such stars on each shoulder.
"Tattoos can be chemically removed," Smith said, ingesting a Dramamine.
There were other discrepancies. Body weight, height, and an appendectomy scar
that should not have been there.
"Inconsequential," Smith said, popping an antacid.
In the third paragraph, the report noted that fingerprints taken from the skin
glove did not match those of Nogeira.
"Easily explained," Smith told himself. "The skin glove was from a drowning
victim. Someone not connected with this."
The FBI report concluded in the final paragraph that the body believed to be
that of Nogeira was in fact that of another person entirely.
"Premature," Smith scoffed, taking another aspirin.
At the bottom of the report was a notation that the FBI had run the
fingerprints through its extensive files and produced no positive match.
Harold Smith logged over to the computerized FBI fingerprint records and
Page 119
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
brought up a digitized copy of the skin glove prints. They looked like
ordinary fingerprints. He initiated a cross-match program that ran those
prints through various other files at his disposal.
It took an hour, but in the end Harold Smith had a perfect match.
A second row of fingerprints showed beneath the first. They were labeled. The
name of the individual to whom those fingerprints belonged made Smith blink
wildly, as if his eyes sought to reject the indisputable facts before them.
The name was that of Enrique Espiritu Esperanza.
"Oh my God," croaked Harold W. Smith, his stomach, head, and eyes one great
throbbing network of pain. "I have instructed them to install the most brutal
dictator in this hemisphere as governor of California, and I have no way to
reach Remo and Chiun."
Chapter 33
In the guest house of the Esperanza vineyard, Remo Williams frowned at the
strange piece of furniture behind which he had pushed Esperanza to safety.
"It looks like an altar," Remo said, eyeing the assortment of statuary,
portraits, and knickknacks. There was a wooden gourd set in the center of the
feather-bedecked altar, and its bowl was dark with a brownish-red crust that
could only be blood.
"Yes," said Esperanza. "One of my servants, he is from the Caribbean. An
island man. You know, they practice strange beliefs on those islands."
"Looks like Voodoo stuff," Remo remarked.
"Santeria. Not Voodoo, but very much like it."
"This servant of yours," Chiun asked slowly. "Does he know of love potions?"
Esperanza blinked rapidly.
"Love potions?"
"Yes. I have a . . . friend who has need of such a thing." Chiun looked at
Remo out of the corner of his eye. Remo looked away. Esperanza looked at them
both and smiled with veiled understanding.
"Ah, I see," he said, gesturing. "Come, come. I will talk to him on your
behalf. It may be that I can do something for this . . . friend."
As they were leaving the room, Remo said, "Cashman was hit this afternoon."
Esperanza laid a broad brown hand on his white-suited chest and turned, his
face aghast. "No! Not Harmon!"
"He's not dead. The doctor says he'll recover."
"Ah, good," said Esperanza.
"Once he kicks his cocaine habit," Remo added.
Esperanza stopped again. "Harmon? Not Harmon."
Remo nodded. "The doctor confirmed it."
"How strange. You know, I have never known him to speak of drugs."
"Yeah, all you ever saw him do was wolf down Oreo cookies by the fistful."
"I understand those addicted ones often experience strange pangs and hungers,"
said Esperanza sadly.
They resumed walking down the stairs.
"What is that smell?" Chiun asked, sniffing the air doubtfully.
Remo answered. "Smells like Oreos."
"I keep a goodly supply here," explained Esperanza. "Once the election is
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plkwiatpolny.htw.pl
|
|
| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
|
|
