Цитата #632 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

“They’re always in there,” he said. “Never exactly closed. Never exactly open, either.”

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“Also a message,” I said. “So think about it.”

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She ran over the gravel. Stood right in front of me.

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The fat guy at the big desk looked up at me as I was pushed in toward him. I saw him look blank, like he was trying to place me. He looked again, harder. Then he sneered at me and spoke in a wheezing gasp which would have been a shout if it hadn’t been strangled by bad lungs.

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He nodded. He knew what I meant. Guy like Hubble could lose a lot in jail. Baker unlatched the heavy Rolex from Hubble’s wrist. The bracelet wouldn’t slide over the handcuff, so Baker had to fiddle and fuss with taking the handcuff off and putting it back on again. The prison driver cracked the door and glared in. A man with a timetable. Baker dropped Hubble’s watch on the nearest desk. Exactly where my friend Roscoe had put her coffee cup.

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