Read Online The Boxer and the Spy by Robert B. Parker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert B. Parker
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I’ve already given this as much time as I’m going to. The next time you step out of line, you’re suspended. You understand that?”
“Even if it’s not my fault?” Terry said.
“You’re a troublemaker, Novak. You’ll keep your nose clean or I’ll lower the boom on you.”
Hulking before him, Mr. Bullard reminded Terry of some kind of animal. A rhino, maybe. Thick and short and massive and ugly and mean. His eyes were kind of small, and they looked even smaller because his face was so wide. Made him look sort of dumb. Terry smiled to himself for a moment. Maybe he is dumb, Terry thought.
Bullard saw the smile.
“There’s nothing funny going on here,” Bullard said.
There’s a lot funny going on here, Terry thought. But he kept his face blank. There was no point taking Bullard on direct. What was it George said? Something about deciding early in the fight whether it was one you could win or one where you mainly tried to avoid getting hurt. He knew that this was that kind of a fight. He wasn’t going to win, right now, at least. And he wasn’t going to win alone. But on the other hand, the fight wasn’t over. And every day he seemed a little less alone. Pick your spot, he said to himself. Pick your spot. Right now he knew that he was in a position to get kicked out of school anytime Bullard wanted to. He got kicked out, he got kicked out. He wasn’t going to stop. He was in too deep. It wasn’t even about Jason anymore. Something bad was going on, and he wasn’t going to be chased off by a pig like Bullard until he found out what it was.
Things were developing.
CHAPTER 24
A bby was sitting in a booth in the Coffee Café with her legs tucked under her. There was a book bag open in the seat beside her, a green manila folder open on the tabletop. She had a ballpoint in her hand and was drinking coffee with the same hand and talking on her cell phone. She grinned at Terry as he slid in across from her. She put the coffee down and wrote in her green folder and nodded and wrote some more.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Otis.”
She broke the connection and looked at Terry.
“AIA headquarters,” she said.
“AIA?”
“Abby’s Intelligence Agency,” she said.
Marcia the waitress brought Terry some coffee and freshened up Abby’s.
When they were alone, Terry reached across and took the green folder and pulled it to him and turned it around so he could read it.
“What have you got?” he said.
“My spy log,” Abby said.
“Who are all these people? No names? Just numbers?”
“Some of my friends,” Abby said. “Some friends of my friends. Some friends of their friends. Lots of people are in on this. I give them each a number. I’m the only one who knows what number is who. They like it. It’s fun.”
“They could get in trouble,” Terry said.
“Half the school?” Abby said. “And for what? We’re just keeping track of people. What’s wrong with that?”
“Bullard wouldn’t like it,” Terry said.
Abby grinned.
“I think that’s why a lot of kids are doing it,” she said.
“And if Bullard catches you?” Terry said. “What will you do?”
Abby smiled widely and stuck out her tongue.
“That’s what you’ll do?” Terry said.
“Uh-huh.”
Terry stared at the list of numbered entries in the folder.
“Well,” he said. “At least we got him surrounded.”
“Yes,” Abby said. “What I did was, I gave all these people my cell phone number, and whenever they see either Mr. Bullard or Kip Carter All-American, they call in and tell me about it. A lot of time they leave it on my voice mail and I, you know, compile it in my room, after supper.”
“And you keep track of it all?”
“On this chart,” Abby said.
She took a piece of lavender-lined white paper out of the folder and held it up for him. He took it and they leaned toward each other across the table as she explained it. The top of her head touched his. Her hair smelled of shampoo.
“See,”
“Even if it’s not my fault?” Terry said.
“You’re a troublemaker, Novak. You’ll keep your nose clean or I’ll lower the boom on you.”
Hulking before him, Mr. Bullard reminded Terry of some kind of animal. A rhino, maybe. Thick and short and massive and ugly and mean. His eyes were kind of small, and they looked even smaller because his face was so wide. Made him look sort of dumb. Terry smiled to himself for a moment. Maybe he is dumb, Terry thought.
Bullard saw the smile.
“There’s nothing funny going on here,” Bullard said.
There’s a lot funny going on here, Terry thought. But he kept his face blank. There was no point taking Bullard on direct. What was it George said? Something about deciding early in the fight whether it was one you could win or one where you mainly tried to avoid getting hurt. He knew that this was that kind of a fight. He wasn’t going to win, right now, at least. And he wasn’t going to win alone. But on the other hand, the fight wasn’t over. And every day he seemed a little less alone. Pick your spot, he said to himself. Pick your spot. Right now he knew that he was in a position to get kicked out of school anytime Bullard wanted to. He got kicked out, he got kicked out. He wasn’t going to stop. He was in too deep. It wasn’t even about Jason anymore. Something bad was going on, and he wasn’t going to be chased off by a pig like Bullard until he found out what it was.
Things were developing.
CHAPTER 24
A bby was sitting in a booth in the Coffee Café with her legs tucked under her. There was a book bag open in the seat beside her, a green manila folder open on the tabletop. She had a ballpoint in her hand and was drinking coffee with the same hand and talking on her cell phone. She grinned at Terry as he slid in across from her. She put the coffee down and wrote in her green folder and nodded and wrote some more.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Otis.”
She broke the connection and looked at Terry.
“AIA headquarters,” she said.
“AIA?”
“Abby’s Intelligence Agency,” she said.
Marcia the waitress brought Terry some coffee and freshened up Abby’s.
When they were alone, Terry reached across and took the green folder and pulled it to him and turned it around so he could read it.
“What have you got?” he said.
“My spy log,” Abby said.
“Who are all these people? No names? Just numbers?”
“Some of my friends,” Abby said. “Some friends of my friends. Some friends of their friends. Lots of people are in on this. I give them each a number. I’m the only one who knows what number is who. They like it. It’s fun.”
“They could get in trouble,” Terry said.
“Half the school?” Abby said. “And for what? We’re just keeping track of people. What’s wrong with that?”
“Bullard wouldn’t like it,” Terry said.
Abby grinned.
“I think that’s why a lot of kids are doing it,” she said.
“And if Bullard catches you?” Terry said. “What will you do?”
Abby smiled widely and stuck out her tongue.
“That’s what you’ll do?” Terry said.
“Uh-huh.”
Terry stared at the list of numbered entries in the folder.
“Well,” he said. “At least we got him surrounded.”
“Yes,” Abby said. “What I did was, I gave all these people my cell phone number, and whenever they see either Mr. Bullard or Kip Carter All-American, they call in and tell me about it. A lot of time they leave it on my voice mail and I, you know, compile it in my room, after supper.”
“And you keep track of it all?”
“On this chart,” Abby said.
She took a piece of lavender-lined white paper out of the folder and held it up for him. He took it and they leaned toward each other across the table as she explained it. The top of her head touched his. Her hair smelled of shampoo.
“See,”
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