Aug112010
Louis DeFazio, a very legitimate businessman, to...
Louis DeFazio, a very legitimate businessman, to d?best of my knowledgeHe gives us
our assignments
?Do you know where he lives??
?Brooklyn HeightsOn the river, I think someone told me
?What was your destination when our personnel intercepted you??
Dellacroce winced, briefly closing his swollen eyes before answering?One of those drunk-anddope
tanks somewhere south of Philly?which you already know, MrBig Shot, ?cause you found
the map in the car
Holland angrily reached for the recorder, snapping it off?You?re on your way to Hatteras, you
son of a bitch!?
?Hey, you get your info your way, I give it mine, okay? There was a map?there?s always a
map?and each of us has to take those cockamamy back roads to the joint like we were driving the
president or even a don superiore to an Appalachian meetYou gimme that chanel necklace message pad and the
pencil, I?ll give you the location right down to the brass plate on the stone gate The mafioso
raised his uncased right arm and jabbed his index finger at the DCI?It?ll be accurate, MrBig Shot,
because I don?t wanna sleep with no fishes, capisce??
?But you won?t put it on tape,? said Holland, a disturbed inflection in his voice?Why not??
?Tape, shit! What did you call it? An interagency master bullshit? What do you think our
people can?t tap into this place? Hoo-hah! That fuckin? doctor of yours could be one of us!?
?He?s not, but we?re going to get to an army doctor who is Peter Holland picked up the
message pad and pencil from the bedside table, handing both to DellacroceHe did not bother to
switch on the tape recorderThey were beyond props and into hardball
In New York City, on 138th balenciaga bag Street between Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue, the hard core of
Harlem, a large disheveled black man in his mid-thirties staggered up the sidewalkHe bounced off
the chipped brick wall of a run-down apartment building and slumped down on the pavement, his
legs extended, his unshaven face angled into the right collar of his torn army-surplus shirt
?With the looks I?m getting,? he said quietly into the miniaturized microphone under the cloth,
?you?d think I?d invaded the high colonic white shopping district of Palm Springs
?You?re doing beautifully,? came the metallic voice over the tiny speaker sewn into the back of
the agent?s collar?We?ve got the place covered; we?ll give you plenty of noticeThat answering
machine?s so jammed it?s sending out whistling smoke
?How did you two lily boys get into that trap over large gucci bag there??
?Very early this morning, so early no one noticed what we looked like
?I can?t wait to watch you get out; it?s a needle condo if I ever saw oneSpeaking of which,
which we are in a way, are the cops on this beat alerted? I?d hate like hell to get hauled in after
growing this bristle on my faceIt itches like crazy and my new wife of three weeks doesn?t dig it
?You should have stayed with the first one, buddy
?Funny little white boyShe didn?t like the hours or the geographyLike in being away for
weeks at a time playing games in ZimbabweAnswer me, please??
?The blue coats have your description and the scenarioYou?re part of a federal bust, so they?ll
leave you aloneHold it! Conversation?s overThis has to be our man; he?s got a telephone
satchel strapped to his beltHe?s heading for the doorwayIt?s all cheap prada handbags yours, Emperor Jones
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
292
?Funny little white boyI?ve got him and I can tell you now he?s a soft chocolate mousse
He?s scared shitless to go into this palace
?Which means he?s legitimate,? said the metallic voice in the collar
?That?s bad, junior,? countered the black agent instantly
?If you?re right, he doesn?t know anything, and the layers between him and the source will be as
thick as Southern molasses
?Oh? Then how do you read it??
?On-scene techI have to see the numbers when he programs them into his troubleshooter
?What the hell does that mean??
?He may be legit, but he?s also been frightened and not by the premises
?What does that mean??
?It?s all over his face, manHe could enter in false numbers if he thinks he?s being followed or
watched
?You?ve lost me, cartier watches women bud
our assignments
?Do you know where he lives??
?Brooklyn HeightsOn the river, I think someone told me
?What was your destination when our personnel intercepted you??
Dellacroce winced, briefly closing his swollen eyes before answering?One of those drunk-anddope
tanks somewhere south of Philly?which you already know, MrBig Shot, ?cause you found
the map in the car
Holland angrily reached for the recorder, snapping it off?You?re on your way to Hatteras, you
son of a bitch!?
?Hey, you get your info your way, I give it mine, okay? There was a map?there?s always a
map?and each of us has to take those cockamamy back roads to the joint like we were driving the
president or even a don superiore to an Appalachian meetYou gimme that chanel necklace message pad and the
pencil, I?ll give you the location right down to the brass plate on the stone gate The mafioso
raised his uncased right arm and jabbed his index finger at the DCI?It?ll be accurate, MrBig Shot,
because I don?t wanna sleep with no fishes, capisce??
?But you won?t put it on tape,? said Holland, a disturbed inflection in his voice?Why not??
?Tape, shit! What did you call it? An interagency master bullshit? What do you think our
people can?t tap into this place? Hoo-hah! That fuckin? doctor of yours could be one of us!?
?He?s not, but we?re going to get to an army doctor who is Peter Holland picked up the
message pad and pencil from the bedside table, handing both to DellacroceHe did not bother to
switch on the tape recorderThey were beyond props and into hardball
In New York City, on 138th balenciaga bag Street between Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue, the hard core of
Harlem, a large disheveled black man in his mid-thirties staggered up the sidewalkHe bounced off
the chipped brick wall of a run-down apartment building and slumped down on the pavement, his
legs extended, his unshaven face angled into the right collar of his torn army-surplus shirt
?With the looks I?m getting,? he said quietly into the miniaturized microphone under the cloth,
?you?d think I?d invaded the high colonic white shopping district of Palm Springs
?You?re doing beautifully,? came the metallic voice over the tiny speaker sewn into the back of
the agent?s collar?We?ve got the place covered; we?ll give you plenty of noticeThat answering
machine?s so jammed it?s sending out whistling smoke
?How did you two lily boys get into that trap over large gucci bag there??
?Very early this morning, so early no one noticed what we looked like
?I can?t wait to watch you get out; it?s a needle condo if I ever saw oneSpeaking of which,
which we are in a way, are the cops on this beat alerted? I?d hate like hell to get hauled in after
growing this bristle on my faceIt itches like crazy and my new wife of three weeks doesn?t dig it
?You should have stayed with the first one, buddy
?Funny little white boyShe didn?t like the hours or the geographyLike in being away for
weeks at a time playing games in ZimbabweAnswer me, please??
?The blue coats have your description and the scenarioYou?re part of a federal bust, so they?ll
leave you aloneHold it! Conversation?s overThis has to be our man; he?s got a telephone
satchel strapped to his beltHe?s heading for the doorwayIt?s all cheap prada handbags yours, Emperor Jones
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
292
?Funny little white boyI?ve got him and I can tell you now he?s a soft chocolate mousse
He?s scared shitless to go into this palace
?Which means he?s legitimate,? said the metallic voice in the collar
?That?s bad, junior,? countered the black agent instantly
?If you?re right, he doesn?t know anything, and the layers between him and the source will be as
thick as Southern molasses
?Oh? Then how do you read it??
?On-scene techI have to see the numbers when he programs them into his troubleshooter
?What the hell does that mean??
?He may be legit, but he?s also been frightened and not by the premises
?What does that mean??
?It?s all over his face, manHe could enter in false numbers if he thinks he?s being followed or
watched
?You?ve lost me, cartier watches women bud
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