Mangrove Squeeze by Laurence Shames

Author:Laurence Shames [Shames, Laurence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345433060
Google: SnIyWUSU-a4C
Amazon: 0345433068
Barnesnoble: 0345433068
Goodreads: 458621
Publisher: SKLA
Published: 2011-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Sergei "Tarzan" Abramowitz, the muscular young man who always wore suspenders, paced athletically along the length of Ivan Cherkassky's sofa. The ridge above his eyes was furrowed; tangled hair bounced against his neck. He moved his heavy jaw and spoke in Russian. "That prozhny vorchnoi," he snarled, calling the dead Lazslo an eliminatory organ of low social status, "he screwed it up but good."

Cherkassky didn't answer right away. He crossed his skinny legs, gazed out the picture window at the yellow morning light, and wondered briefly if Abramowitz's gait was naturally that springy or if it was one more way of showing off. At last he said, "You're sure? You're absolutely sure?"

Tarzan's walk became more acrobatic still, his knees flexed, his thigh muscles bulged, it seemed he might do a back flip any moment. "Ivan Fyodorovich, I am sure. Practically the last words of that out-of-wedlock child who has sex with his mother. We are holding him down. He says Why? Why? I did my job, I swear. The knife, we bring it closer. He says, The bitch is dead, she's dead. The blade is now against his neck. He tries to shrink, he cries, the cockroach with no testicles. The car, he says. Even now the car goes down, she disappears forever. I did my job, I swear."

Ivan Cherkassky hunkered forward across his knobby knees. His scooped-out melon face seemed to grow a little hollower, chin and forehead cinching in with concentration. "The car," he said. "Who helps him? Who makes it disappear?"

Tarzan pivoted, fisted hands swinging low against his legs. "This he did not say."

Resignedly, Cherkassky nodded. "Of course not. Because it would be good to know."

The young man in suspenders burst forward once again like a sprinter from the blocks. "Yes," he said. "It would."

"And the girl—you think she lives?"

"If she is not in trunk, I fear she does."

"Pyutchni streshkaya!" Cherkassky murmured in disgust. "Still we must clean up after this ragpicker who is incontinent."

"You want I find the girl?" said Tarzan.

"She cannot live," Cherkassky said. "Is clear."

"A flotl defioreski khrichevskov!" Tarzan hissed. "I find her, I send her to meet Lazslo, they have oral sex in hell."

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