6lib.ru - Электронная Библиотека
Название книги: One False Move
Автор(ы): Alez Kava
Жанр: Триллер
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/One-False-Move-196332.html
PART 1 Blind Man's Bluff
Friday, August 27
PROLOGUE
1:13 p.m.
Nebraska State Penitentiary- Lincoln, Nebraska
Max Kramer wore his lucky red tie with his blue power suit. While he waited for the guard to unlock the door, he admired his reflection in the glass security window behind them. That Grecian hair formula really worked. He could barely see any of the gray. His wife kept telling him the salt and pepper made him look more distinguished. Of course she would say that. She always said stuff like that when she was suspicious, when she knew he was hunting for someone new. God, she knew him well, better than she realized.
"Big day," the hulk of a guard said to him. But he was scowling instead of smiling.
Max had heard the nicknames the guards had given him in the last several weeks. He knew he wasn't a popular guy here on death row. But that was to the guards. To the inmates he had reached hero status. And they were the ones he cared about; they were the ones who counted.
They needed him to right their wrongs, to tell their stories, or rather their versions of their stories. Yes, they were the ones who mattered, but not because he was a bleeding-heart liberal like the Omaha World Herald or the Lincoln Journal Star seemed pleased to label him. It was nothing quite as admirable as all that. Quite simply, all his hard work, all his efforts were for a day like today. A day when he could watch a client of his walk out of this concrete hellhole. A day when he could save his client from the electric chair and walk alongside him out the front doors and into the sun
Название книги: One False Move
Автор(ы): Alez Kava
Жанр: Триллер
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/One-False-Move-196332.html
PART 1 Blind Man's Bluff
Friday, August 27
PROLOGUE
1:13 p.m.
Nebraska State Penitentiary- Lincoln, Nebraska
Max Kramer wore his lucky red tie with his blue power suit. While he waited for the guard to unlock the door, he admired his reflection in the glass security window behind them. That Grecian hair formula really worked. He could barely see any of the gray. His wife kept telling him the salt and pepper made him look more distinguished. Of course she would say that. She always said stuff like that when she was suspicious, when she knew he was hunting for someone new. God, she knew him well, better than she realized.
"Big day," the hulk of a guard said to him. But he was scowling instead of smiling.
Max had heard the nicknames the guards had given him in the last several weeks. He knew he wasn't a popular guy here on death row. But that was to the guards. To the inmates he had reached hero status. And they were the ones he cared about; they were the ones who counted.
They needed him to right their wrongs, to tell their stories, or rather their versions of their stories. Yes, they were the ones who mattered, but not because he was a bleeding-heart liberal like the Omaha World Herald or the Lincoln Journal Star seemed pleased to label him. It was nothing quite as admirable as all that. Quite simply, all his hard work, all his efforts were for a day like today. A day when he could watch a client of his walk out of this concrete hellhole. A day when he could save his client from the electric chair and walk alongside him out the front doors and into the sun
Навигация с клавиатуры: следующая страница - или ,
предыдущая -
