The Boxer and the Spy
- Автор: Паркер Роберт Браун
- Год: 2008
- Язык: английский
- Год: Philomel Books
- ISBN: 978-0-399-24775-0
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Boxer and the Spy». Краткое содержание книги:
“You mean like plumbers for the plumbing part and electrical guys for the electricity part?”
Malcolm nodded happily.
“Exactly,” he said. “Normally skilled tradesmen aren’t available to teach, because, quite frankly, they make too much doing what they do to give it up for teaching. But if I can hire them between jobs and pay them well, but not for very long, we can get expert faculty in all phases of the construction without huge costs.”
“Wow, again!” Abby said. “Is that your idea?”
“Well, I have a part in it. Because of my long experience, I know a great many subs... subcontractors,” he said. “But the plan originated, I believe, with Mr. Bullard. Mrs. Trent, when she was chair of the school committee, and more recently, as chairperson of the selectmen, has been very supportive.”
“Is somebody who’s gone through this program ready to work when he graduates?” Abby said.
She was leaning forward, her eyes wide, giving every evidence of being totally fascinated.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Malcolm said. “They’ve had hands-on training from experts. Incidentally it’s not just he anymore. It could be she, you know.”
“And do you help them get jobs?” Abby said.
“In cooperation with the guidance office,” Mr. Malcolm said. “Plus, I have so many contacts in the building business that I can be quite helpful in a more informal way.”
Abby appeared entranced.
“Fabulous,” she said. “What a fabulous program.”
Mr. Malcolm smiled at her enthusiasm.
“It’s been a dream project of mine for many years,” he said. “And now that I don’t have to devote so much time to my own business, I have the chance to see the dream come true.”
“That’s really great,” Abby said. “What do you do with the house when it’s finished?”
“Finished?” Malcolm said.
“Yes, it’s so great... really fabulous... Do you do something special?”
“We... ah... You’ll have talk to Mr. Bullard about that.”
“Mr. Bullard?”
“Yes,” Mr. Malcolm said. “He would be the one to ask.”
Abby frowned in a cute way and looked puzzled.
“Don’t you know?” Abby said.
“Mr. Bullard would be the one to ask about that,” Mr. Malcolm said, and looked at his watch.
Abby considered that option.
I don’t think so.
Chapter 33
“You going into a fight,” George said. "You know what you trying to do. You got a plan. You need to stay with the plan. Worst thing you can do is get one on the nose and get mad and go crazy and can the plan.”
Terry had the big gloves off and was finishing up on the speed bag, which, as George said, was mostly for show. It was somewhat useful for hand-eye coordination, Terry knew, and it was kind of an aerobic workout.
“What if the plan isn’t working?” he asked.
“Then you come up with another one. What you don’t do is just get mad and start whaling away,” George said. “That ain’t no plan and it will get you hurt.”
“Didn’t you ever get mad?”
“You get mad, you use it for energy,” George said. “You control it and channel it. Otherwise you lose your technique, and you don’t stay over your feet, and you let yourself get off balance and overextended and you get your clock cleaned and your ticket punched pretty quick.”
“What if the other guy is mad too?” Terry said.
“Then the control is gone,” George said. “Then it just a brawl and a lucky punch win it.”
Terry finished up on the speed bag.
“Now deck him,” George said.
Terry got the bag moving again and then hit it as hard as he could with a right overhand punch.
“A devastating punch,” George said. “Now take a seat and breathe.”
Terry sat on the folding chair and began to peel the self-stick trainer’s tape off his hands.
“It’s all about control, isn’t it, George?” Terry said.
“It is,” George said.
He pushed the wastebasket closer so Terry could drop the used tape in it and took the big sixteen-ounce boxing gloves to the shelf.
“Hard for a kid,” Terry said, “to control stuff.”
“It is,” George said. “Most of the time people controlling you.”
“Was that the way it was for you?”
“When I was a kid,” George said, “there was no control. Kid needs some. I didn’t get none ’til the priest started me boxing.”
“Then you could control things, ’cause you could fight,” Terry said.
“I could control myself,” George said. “So can you. It’s the only control matters.”
“Self-control.”
“Sure,” George said. “You maybe want to fight Golden Gloves, fine. You maybe want to go on and fight pro, fine. I’ll stay with you far as you want. But I ain’t teaching you to box so you’ll be a good boxer.”
“Then what the hell are you teaching me for?” Terry said.
“So you be a good man.”
“Not a good man because I can box,” Terry said.
“That’s correct,” George said.
“A good man because I can control myself,” Terry said.
“That’s correct,” George said.
“‘Cause I can stick with my plan.”
“First you learn to have a plan. Then you learn to stick to it until it proves to be wrong. Then you get a new plan.”
“You’re talking about life,” Terry said.
“You need to have the smarts to know your best interest,” George said. “And you need to have the control to stay with it.”
“So,” Terry said slowly, “everything won’t be a brawl that’s decided by a lucky punch.”
George smiled and hit the speed bag, his hands so fast that Terry could barely see them. The movement of the bag was pyrotechnic and entirely rhythmic.
“Badda bing,” George said.
Chapter 34
On her way home from school Friday, Abby passed the dirt road that led to the construction project. She stopped for a moment and listened. She didn’t hear anything. It was after school hours, so there was probably nobody working on the project. Sometimes when you looked at a thing, Abby thought, and tried to keep your mind empty, you would think of something. She turned into the quiet dirt road and walked to the site. It was empty. She stood looking at it, listening to the bird sounds in the empty woods. The house was a big one, and fancy.
Worth a lot of money... to someone... Maybe it got sold and the money went back into the school budget... or the town budget... if the town had a budget... it must, towns cost money... so how come nobody seems to know who got the money? Except maybe Mr. Bullard and she didn’t dare ask him.
She heard a footstep behind her and turned and it was Kip Carter. She felt the little jag of fear flash through the center of her stomach.
“Little Abby Hall,” he said. “Out in the woods all alone.”
Abby stared at him. He was like a grown man, big, with muscles. He looked like he shaved every day. And he was handsome in a pouty self-satisfied kind of way that Abby hated. She also hated that she was afraid of him.
“What do you want?” she said.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Kip Carter said.
“I don’t want anything,” Abby said.
“Maybe I do,” Kip Carter said.
“I don’t care if you do or not,” Abby said.
He moved closer to her. She felt the fear. But she felt anger too. She started to walk around him. He stepped in front of her.