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Unformatted text preview: eratives." "Operatives?" "Yeah, they got all sorts of thugs who work for them. Leg breakers, bomb throwers, car stealers, hit men." He allowed the "hit men" to hang in the air while he watched me flinch. He gave the impression of one who could tell stories forever without being unduly burdened by veracity. Harry Rex had a nasty grin and a twinkle in his eyes, and I strongly suspected some embellishment was under way. "And of course they were never caught," I said. "Padgitts never get caught." "What happened to your client?" "He spent a few months in the hospital. The brain damage was pretty severe. In and out of institutions, really sad. Broke his family. He drifted to the Gulf Coast where they elected him to the state senate." I smiled and nodded at what I hoped was a lie, but I didn't pursue it. Without touching the cigar with his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html hands, he flicked his tongue somehow and cocked his head, and it slid to the right side of his mouth. "You ever eat goat?" he asked. "Say what?" "Goat?" "No. I didn't know it was edible." "We're roastin' one this afternoon. The first Friday of each month I throw a goat party at my cabin in the woods. Some music, cold beer, fun and games, about fifty folks, all carefully selected by me, the cream of society. No doctors, no bankers, no country club assholes. A classy bunch. Why don't you stop by? I got a firin' range out behind the pond. I'll take the pistol and we'll figure out how to use the damned thing." - --- Harry Rex's ten-minute drive into the country took almost half an hour, and that was on the paved county road. When I crossed the "third creek past Heck's old Union 76 station," I left the asphalt and turned onto gravel. For a while it was a nice gravel road with mailboxes indicating some hope of civilization, but after three mile...
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- Spring '10