Where Serpents Lie
- Автор: Паркер Т. Джефферсон
- Год: 1998
- Язык: английский
- Год: Hyperion
- ISBN: 978-0-7868-6287-0
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Where Serpents Lie». Краткое содержание книги:
“Which, of course, means rough, or bristled,” I said. “He wrote it on some evidence associated with his second abduction.”
He listened, then he said something interesting.
He said Moloch was a deity to whom the Israelites offered sacrifices of human children. He said that most Bible scholars maintain that Moloch was actually Yahweh himself, the God of the Jewish people, and that only later, shamed by their practice, they changed the name of that bloodthirsty god from Yahweh to Moloch.
“They rewrote history,” he said. “Odd to think that our Judeo-Christian tradition featured child sacrifice at one time.”
“I guess I would have changed the name of my god, too,” I said.
“Or asked him for a more humane program,” said the director. “When you catch him, will you castrate him?”
“The State of California frowns on that, but it’s been done. A castrated rapist can still rape, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s a crime of violence, not sex. At least that’s what the current thinking is. When a castrated rapist rapes again, I’d have to agree.”
“We live in some very challenging times, don’t we, Terry? Can I buy you another drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m just about to leave.”
I said my good-byes and looked one last time into the clear brown eyes of Donna Mason. My heart thumped in my chest and my stomach felt like I was going over a highway in a big fast car.
I let myself into the apartment ten minutes later. It’s a wonderful place, fifth floor, top level, on the other side of the metro district, just a stone’s throw from the nice theaters and expensive restaurants. There’s actually a bean field across from one side, a last vestige of our agrarian history. It’s also got a man-made stream that flows through the clusters of units — hokey, but pleasant. I opened the windows and a bottle of Cabernet, got out some glasses and wiped them shiny with a paper towel. I looked down over the city and felt inexcusably happy.
Five minutes later Donna Mason slipped in. All I could do was watch her come across the floor and shake my head.
She threw her arms around me and buried her fragrant black curls in my neck. “God, I’ve missed you,” she said.
Seven
Hypok slept until almost midnight. Then he sat up and swung his feet over the bed, straightened his back and breathed deeply. He pulled a burgundy-colored robe over him and let it fall past his waist as he stood and slid his feet into his slippers. He tied the robe sash in a double knot, snug up against his stomach. At the bedroom window he stood erect, each hand in a robe pocket, feet together, head cocked just a little to the right, and stared through the darkness. Same thing he always saw: sycamores dense and high and lit faintly by a neighbor’s patio light, the thick black power line sagging upward toward its pole on the street behind his, part of the rooftop belonging to the rose-crazed old jackoff who lived next door, the guest quarters at the far end of his own backyard dark now but the guests inside certainly astir just like he was.
Things start moving early in spring when the moon’s down, he thought, like tonight, part of nature’s way, what keeps us all fed.
He went to the kitchen and made coffee. Extra strong, to stand up to the milk and kahlua and tequila he added to it — just a wave of each bottle really — to get him off to a firm start. With a big steaming mug in his hand he went into his workroom and turned on the overhead fluorescents. They were arranged on the ceiling in two rows of three long bulbs each, and bathed the room in cool white light. More like moonlight than daylight, he thought.
First, get the mail and check with the Friendlies on the Web. He booted up and keyed to the PlaNet provider software, listened to the modem as it dialed and made contact, saw the standard PlaNet junk fill the screen as he fingered past it to get his e-mail. He leaned his elbows on the desk and lowered his head to his hands for comfort. Odd to feel the new smooth face, he thought, and the new short white hair is odd too. The new me. He read his maiclass="underline"
Lums-
Things are popping in the Adirondacks: 2 horridus already, one male and one female, darker phases, active midday. Westerns out yet? Any six-foot reds?