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
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“And this isn’t saving you,” Terry said.
“No,” Abby said. “This is like revenge.”
Terry stared at her.
“Well,” George said. “Might be more than just revenge, might prevent him from bothering you again.”
Abby nodded.
“I suppose,” she said.
“Not a bad thing,” George said.
“No.”
“But that ain’t what really bothering you, stuff about revenge.”
“It’s not?” Abby said.
George shook his head and grinned at her.
“You don’t like the Terry Novak you saw in the fight. You never seen him before.”
“He was so angry,” she said. “He was, like, cruel.”
“For god’s sake,” Terry said.
“Ain’t gonna argue none about whether fighting’s good or bad,” George said. “My own guess is that it be good and bad, like most things. Hitting somebody is cruel, even if you have to do it. But say that you do have to do it, then being angry and cruel probably a good thing. Long as you control it.”
“You think he had to fight?” Abby said.
“I think there are some things worth fighting ’bout,” George said.
He grinned at her.
“I was Terry,” George said. “You might be one.”
Abby looked at Terry.
“But I don’t know if I could spend my life with someone cruel and angry like that,” she said.
Terry felt the familiar electric thrill when she mentioned spending her life with him and the equally charged flicker of fear when she suggested there could be a reason not to.
George nodded.
“There it is,” George said. “Isn’t it?”
Terry and Abby both looked at him.
“You known him nearly your whole life,” George said to Abby “And you never seen him angry and cruel before.”
“No.”
“That the control thing,” George said. “The good ones, like Terry...” Wow! Terry thought. “They can control it and use it only when they fight.”
“And the bad ones?” Abby said.
“Kip Carter,” George said.
“They don’t control it,” Abby said. “They let it out all the time.”
George nodded.
“You think everybody has cruelty and anger in them?” Abby said.
“I hear you punched Kip Carter on the lip when he grabbed you in the woods,” George said.
Chapter 43
In his office, in the now-empty school, Bullard loomed in front of Kip Carter.
“Nice going,” Bullard said. “You’ve fixed it so now I’m going to have to do something about him. Her too, probably.”
“I was trying to help,” Kip Carter said.
“He beat you like a drum,” Bullard said.
Kip Carter looked at the floor.
“A ninth grader...” Bullard said.
Kip Carter couldn’t think of anything to say. He looked at the floor some more.
“You’re yellow,” Bullard said.
“Mr. Bullard,” Kip said. “I’m not.”
The veins in Bullard’s neck were bulging. His face was red. His breathing was heavy and fast. His voice was hoarse.
“I told you not to touch him unless I said so,” Bullard said. “Didn’t I?”
Kip Carter nodded.
“But no, you jerk,” Bullard said, “you had to be a hero. You thought you could beat him up easy, everybody thought you could beat him up easy. You even fooled me, but no more.”
The color in Bullard’s face deepened.
“You know why he beat you?” Bullard said. His voice was shaking.
“Because you quit,” Bullard rasped. “Because he landed a couple of lucky punches and you folded like an accordion. I thought you were going to cry.”
“I didn’t quit, Mr. Bullard,” Kip Carter said. “He beat me, but I didn’t quit.”
“You quit,” Bullard said. “You think you can play in the Big Ten? You think a quitter like you can make the team? When I get through talking to the coaching staff out there, they won’t give you a scholarship for cheerleading.”
“My scholarship?”
“Forget about it. You go along with me, I go along with you. You only cross me once.”
“I was trying to do the right thing for you, Mr. Bullard,” Kip Carter said. “Novak was getting too close. I thought I could pound the fear of God into him.”
“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” Bullard said. “You turned yourself into a joke. I got no use for a joke.”
“And now you’re going to ruin my scholarship.”
“Absolutely.”
“Mr. Bullard, I... You can’t just throw me away... I know stuff.”
“And you’ll keep your mouth shut about anything you know,” Bullard said. “Or you’ll be swimming with the fishes like the other guy.”
Despite the obvious rage he was in, Bullard’s voice was suddenly quiet and hard as winter ice. Kip Carter realized he was seeing the Mr. Bullard that Jason must have seen, just before he died.
“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “You can trust me, sir.”
“And you can trust me,” Bullard said. “You say one word and I’ll bury you.”
“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “I won’t say anything.”
Bullard stared at him for a long time without speaking. Then he nodded slowly.
“No,” Bullard said. “You won’t.”
Bullard jerked his head toward the door and Kip Carter turned and left. He appeared cowed and his head was down, but to himself he said, The hell I won’t.
Chapter 44
Terry was through soaking his hands when Kip Carter walked into George’s training room.
“Fight’s over, son,” George said to him.
“I don’t want to fight,” Kip Carter said.
Terry looked at him silently.
“So what do you want?” Abby said.
“I want to tell you about Mr. Bullard,” he said.
Behind him the doorway was suddenly blocked by Bullard’s huge frame.
“You three,” he said. “Come with me.”
“No,” Terry said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“He’s got nothing to say and you three are coming with me.”
Again Terry said, “No.”
Bullard reached out and grabbed Terry by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground.
“No?” Bullard said. “No? You don’t say no to me.”
Abby made a little sound.
“Let go the boy, Mr. Bullard,” George said.
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, George was a sturdy middle-sized man, but he looked frail, Abby thought, compared to Mr. Bullard. Bullard let go of Terry and turned his head as if he had heard a fly buzz.
“What?” he said.
“Don’t put your hands on the children,” George said.
“Who the hell are you?” Bullard said.
“My name’s George.”
“Well, George.” Bullard drew the name out so that it sounded mocking. “I am the principal of the high school, and these children are facing disciplinary action of a serious nature. If you stand there quietly and keep your mouth shut, you may not get into trouble.”
“Talk to them right here,” George said. “And don’t touch them.”
Bullard was trembling with partially contained rage. He looked volcanic.
“They’re coming with me,” Bullard said.
George shook his head.
“No? You’re telling me no? You really think you can stop me?”
“Maybe so,” George said.
Bullard spit on the floor in contempt.
“You three, now, come with me.”
Terry, Abby, and Kip all said, “No,” at the same time. Bullard’s voice was thick, as if his throat was clogged.