Цитата #1657 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

There was a silence. He and I got the message simultaneously.

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For a moment there was silence. Just a faint hum, the air, the lights, or the computer. Or the recorder whirring slowly. I could hear the slow tick of the old clock. It made a patient sound, like it was prepared to tick on forever, no matter what I chose to do. Then the guy sat right back in his chair and looked hard at me. Did the steepled fingers thing, like tall elegant people can.

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“Screwed something up, I guess,” he said.

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I needed to know where Hubble had spent his time for the last year and a half. Charlie might have given me some idea. The time he left home in the morning, the time he got home at night, toll receipts, restaurant bills, things like that. And she might have remembered something about Sunday or something about Pluribus. It was possible she might have come up with something useful. And I needed something useful. I needed it very badly. And she’d switched the damn phone off.

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“I’ve got some,” I said. “I don’t know if I understand it, exactly.”

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