Цитата #1534 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

I WAS WATCHING FINLAY VERY CAREFULLY, TRYING TO DECIDE how far I should trust him. It was going to be a life or death decision. In the end I figured his answer to one simple question would make up my mind for me.

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Saturday morning, a long fax was in from the Pentagon about my service record. Thirteen years of my life, reduced to a few curling fax pages. It felt like somebody else’s life now, but it backed my story. Finlay had been impressed by it. Then my prints came back from the FBI database. They’d been matched by the tireless computer at two thirty in the morning. U.S. Army, printed on induction, thirteen years ago. My alibi was solid, and my background checked out.

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“How do you know Hubble’s dead?” Finlay asked me.

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“See why I was worried who was going to be the next chief?” I said.

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“I won’t do it, Charlie,” I said. “I won’t take your money for that. I would be exploiting you. I can’t take your money because I know he’s already dead. I’m very sorry, but there it is.”

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