[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.They had disappeared in the controlledconfusion of Mexico City traffic more quickly than she would have believedpossible.Even the sick Asian one, who looked as if he could barely walk,never mind run.Officer Mazatl had given up the foot chase and returned to the taxi.Afterthirty or forty minutes of aimless circling of the Zona Rosa and questioningnumerous local police, she decided they were unfindable.There had been nosign of the Bimbo Bread truck, which had compelled them, for some strangereason, to leap into traffic, risking their very lives.Something strange was happening, Officer Mazatl considered as the taxi droveher to Mexico City FJP headquarters, a white colonial building with the words"POLICIA JUDICIAL FEDERAL DE ESTADO" in gold lettering over the entrance.The Mexico City primer comandante was only too happy to assist Officer Mazatlin her plight."You have lost your charge, eh, chica?" he said, coming around from his desk.He shut the door.His arm went around Officer Mazatl's shoulders.OfficerMazatl undid the flap of her belt holster.It made a loud snap.The armwithdrew with alacrity."You misjudge me, chica.You are out of your district.I only wish to assistyou.""They are an Anglo and an old Asian man," Officer Mazatl clipped out."TheAnglo dresses in a black T-shirt.The Oriental wears a fine red silk robe.""Ah," said the comandante."Yes.I have heard of them.""They are supposed to be attached to the U.S.embassy.""If that is so, why have they taken up residence in a hotel?""Which hotel?""Ah, but if I tell you that, what will you do for me?" His voice was likecream."We are companeros of the FJP," Officer Mazatl said tightly."We should beworking together."The comandante smiled generously."I am, like you, poorly paid, and forced toseek opportunities in order to make my poor way in the world.""You do not expect me to bribe a fellow officer into sharing policeintelligence!" Officer Mazatl flared."No, I do not expect it, but." His hands spread like separating birds,lazily taking wing."Never mind! I will do my duty without you."As Officer Mazatl stormed out, the comandante's voice called coolly after her,"When you change your mind, chica, I will be here, thinking of your strongwomanly body."It cost Officer Mazatl only ninety pesos and a look at her credentials tocommandeer an FJP car from the motor pool.The comandante had been too eagerto have his way with her.He had admitted the americano and his friend wereregistered in a hotel.There were many, many hotels in Mexico City, it wastrue.But it would be infinitely easier to check with every one of them thanto have to bed that criadero de sapos of a comandante.Page 61 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlAs she pulled into traffic, Officer Guadalupe Mazatl noticed the heavy policepatrols.On one corner, three officers stood around talking to one another,two holding machine guns at the ready, the third casually swinging adoublebarreled shotgun.They looked tense, even for Mexico City police.Everywhere there were police.DFS vehicles and Mexican Army soldiers in theirforest-green uniforms, all armed, all alert.Could the downing of Air Force One have anything to do with this? OfficerMazatl wondered.She drove directly for the Zona Rosa, the opulent and overpriced touristdistrict.It was near the U.S.embassy and therefore exactly the place thegringos would go-if they knew where to go in Mexico.She checked at the desks in the Galeria Plaza and the Calinda Geneve hotels.The gringos had not been there.Driving down Liverpool, past still-shattered facades of buildings damagedduring the 1985 earthquake, she stopped at the Krystal."Senor, por favor." She accosted the desk clerk, quickly describing Remo andChiun.The clerk wordlessly passed her a key.It was stamped Room 67."Gracias," Officer Mazatl said, striding for the elevator.She boarded the car with a pair of white-uniformed waiters carrying coveredtrays.They joked among themselves as the car ascended."si," the first one said, "driving a bread truck.Everyone is talking aboutit.""I did not know that Bimbo Bread paid so well as to entice an Americanpolitician to drive one of their trucks," the other laughed."What is this?" Officer Mazatl said suddenly, erasing the smiles from theirdark faces with her authoritative tone."Senorita, we only-""Officer," she corrected."Officer, I was merely repeating the stories going around that a man very muchresembling the Vice-President of the United States was seen in the citydriving a Bimbo Bread truck.It is one of those rumors one hears.""Bimbo Bread.You are certain of this?""Si.But it is a joke."The elevator dinged, and the doors opened onto the sixth floor."We shall see who ends up laughing," she said, leaving them to exchangeglances and uplifted eyebrows.At the door to Room 67, Officer Mazatl used the butt of her gun to knock.Shestruck the panel so hard it shivered.Then she flipped the pistol around untilthe muzzle was pointed directly at whoever would answer.The door flew open.It was Remo.Surprisingly, he was unfazed by the sight ofher pistol."Who is it?" the squeaky voice of Chiun called from behind Remo."It's Lupe," Remo called back."Told you I recognized her knock.""Send her away."" I have a pistol," Lupe warned."Down here, everyone has a pistol," Remo muttered."Come in, as long as you'rehere."Lupe shut the door behind her.The TV set was on, tuned to an Englishbroadcast on CNN.The old one called Chiun lay on one bed, looking wan.Remothrew himself onto a chair and focused on the TV."How are you, old one?" Lupe asked Chiun.Nodding to the pistol in her hand, Chiun warned, "if you discharge that thingin here, I will kill you."Lupe almost laughed, but it was not a time for laughter."Why did you chase that bread truck?" Lupe demanded of Remo."What truck?" Remo asked, filling a water glass with Tehuacan brand mineralwater."The Bimbo Bread truck with the Vice-President driving it," she said quickly.Remo stopped pouring.He looked up.He looked to the one called Chiun.The oldPage 62 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlone looked back.They shrugged in unison like two puppets attached to the same strings.Remo spoke first."Tell us what you know about the Vice-President," he said."Only that he is supposed to be in Mexico City.""How do you know this?" Chiun demanded coldly."Everyone in Mexico City is talking of this.""They are!" Remo said."But they think it is a joke.You do not think it is a joke, do you?""Look, can we level with you?" Remo asked."Remo," Chiun warned, "we are in a strange land.We can trust no one.""Silencio, papacito!" Lupe hissed.Chiun's face wrinkled as if stung."Goahead, Senor Yones.""Call me Remo," Remo said."Look, I'm kinda glad you're here.We've beenwatching TV, hoping to get some news on the situation.""What situation?""You know about Air Force One going down.""I saw the wreck, same as you.""Well, what you don't know is that the President was carried out of thewreckage alive.Never mind by whom.The important thing is that theVice-President, or someone who looks exactly like him, rescued him.""Are you saying that your President is in this city as well?""We think so," Remo admitted."We hope so.And we're trying to find him.Wethought we had him, but the truck got away from us.""No wonder.You were on foot [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl trzylatki.xlx.pl
.They had disappeared in the controlledconfusion of Mexico City traffic more quickly than she would have believedpossible.Even the sick Asian one, who looked as if he could barely walk,never mind run.Officer Mazatl had given up the foot chase and returned to the taxi.Afterthirty or forty minutes of aimless circling of the Zona Rosa and questioningnumerous local police, she decided they were unfindable.There had been nosign of the Bimbo Bread truck, which had compelled them, for some strangereason, to leap into traffic, risking their very lives.Something strange was happening, Officer Mazatl considered as the taxi droveher to Mexico City FJP headquarters, a white colonial building with the words"POLICIA JUDICIAL FEDERAL DE ESTADO" in gold lettering over the entrance.The Mexico City primer comandante was only too happy to assist Officer Mazatlin her plight."You have lost your charge, eh, chica?" he said, coming around from his desk.He shut the door.His arm went around Officer Mazatl's shoulders.OfficerMazatl undid the flap of her belt holster.It made a loud snap.The armwithdrew with alacrity."You misjudge me, chica.You are out of your district.I only wish to assistyou.""They are an Anglo and an old Asian man," Officer Mazatl clipped out."TheAnglo dresses in a black T-shirt.The Oriental wears a fine red silk robe.""Ah," said the comandante."Yes.I have heard of them.""They are supposed to be attached to the U.S.embassy.""If that is so, why have they taken up residence in a hotel?""Which hotel?""Ah, but if I tell you that, what will you do for me?" His voice was likecream."We are companeros of the FJP," Officer Mazatl said tightly."We should beworking together."The comandante smiled generously."I am, like you, poorly paid, and forced toseek opportunities in order to make my poor way in the world.""You do not expect me to bribe a fellow officer into sharing policeintelligence!" Officer Mazatl flared."No, I do not expect it, but." His hands spread like separating birds,lazily taking wing."Never mind! I will do my duty without you."As Officer Mazatl stormed out, the comandante's voice called coolly after her,"When you change your mind, chica, I will be here, thinking of your strongwomanly body."It cost Officer Mazatl only ninety pesos and a look at her credentials tocommandeer an FJP car from the motor pool.The comandante had been too eagerto have his way with her.He had admitted the americano and his friend wereregistered in a hotel.There were many, many hotels in Mexico City, it wastrue.But it would be infinitely easier to check with every one of them thanto have to bed that criadero de sapos of a comandante.Page 61 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlAs she pulled into traffic, Officer Guadalupe Mazatl noticed the heavy policepatrols.On one corner, three officers stood around talking to one another,two holding machine guns at the ready, the third casually swinging adoublebarreled shotgun.They looked tense, even for Mexico City police.Everywhere there were police.DFS vehicles and Mexican Army soldiers in theirforest-green uniforms, all armed, all alert.Could the downing of Air Force One have anything to do with this? OfficerMazatl wondered.She drove directly for the Zona Rosa, the opulent and overpriced touristdistrict.It was near the U.S.embassy and therefore exactly the place thegringos would go-if they knew where to go in Mexico.She checked at the desks in the Galeria Plaza and the Calinda Geneve hotels.The gringos had not been there.Driving down Liverpool, past still-shattered facades of buildings damagedduring the 1985 earthquake, she stopped at the Krystal."Senor, por favor." She accosted the desk clerk, quickly describing Remo andChiun.The clerk wordlessly passed her a key.It was stamped Room 67."Gracias," Officer Mazatl said, striding for the elevator.She boarded the car with a pair of white-uniformed waiters carrying coveredtrays.They joked among themselves as the car ascended."si," the first one said, "driving a bread truck.Everyone is talking aboutit.""I did not know that Bimbo Bread paid so well as to entice an Americanpolitician to drive one of their trucks," the other laughed."What is this?" Officer Mazatl said suddenly, erasing the smiles from theirdark faces with her authoritative tone."Senorita, we only-""Officer," she corrected."Officer, I was merely repeating the stories going around that a man very muchresembling the Vice-President of the United States was seen in the citydriving a Bimbo Bread truck.It is one of those rumors one hears.""Bimbo Bread.You are certain of this?""Si.But it is a joke."The elevator dinged, and the doors opened onto the sixth floor."We shall see who ends up laughing," she said, leaving them to exchangeglances and uplifted eyebrows.At the door to Room 67, Officer Mazatl used the butt of her gun to knock.Shestruck the panel so hard it shivered.Then she flipped the pistol around untilthe muzzle was pointed directly at whoever would answer.The door flew open.It was Remo.Surprisingly, he was unfazed by the sight ofher pistol."Who is it?" the squeaky voice of Chiun called from behind Remo."It's Lupe," Remo called back."Told you I recognized her knock.""Send her away."" I have a pistol," Lupe warned."Down here, everyone has a pistol," Remo muttered."Come in, as long as you'rehere."Lupe shut the door behind her.The TV set was on, tuned to an Englishbroadcast on CNN.The old one called Chiun lay on one bed, looking wan.Remothrew himself onto a chair and focused on the TV."How are you, old one?" Lupe asked Chiun.Nodding to the pistol in her hand, Chiun warned, "if you discharge that thingin here, I will kill you."Lupe almost laughed, but it was not a time for laughter."Why did you chase that bread truck?" Lupe demanded of Remo."What truck?" Remo asked, filling a water glass with Tehuacan brand mineralwater."The Bimbo Bread truck with the Vice-President driving it," she said quickly.Remo stopped pouring.He looked up.He looked to the one called Chiun.The oldPage 62 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlone looked back.They shrugged in unison like two puppets attached to the same strings.Remo spoke first."Tell us what you know about the Vice-President," he said."Only that he is supposed to be in Mexico City.""How do you know this?" Chiun demanded coldly."Everyone in Mexico City is talking of this.""They are!" Remo said."But they think it is a joke.You do not think it is a joke, do you?""Look, can we level with you?" Remo asked."Remo," Chiun warned, "we are in a strange land.We can trust no one.""Silencio, papacito!" Lupe hissed.Chiun's face wrinkled as if stung."Goahead, Senor Yones.""Call me Remo," Remo said."Look, I'm kinda glad you're here.We've beenwatching TV, hoping to get some news on the situation.""What situation?""You know about Air Force One going down.""I saw the wreck, same as you.""Well, what you don't know is that the President was carried out of thewreckage alive.Never mind by whom.The important thing is that theVice-President, or someone who looks exactly like him, rescued him.""Are you saying that your President is in this city as well?""We think so," Remo admitted."We hope so.And we're trying to find him.Wethought we had him, but the truck got away from us.""No wonder.You were on foot [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]