Rainbow world wayne ne: Rainbow World Ccc | WAYNE NE Child Care Center

– Yes, it was so. He staggered like a drunk until I finally put him out. The car skidded a little – now to the right, then to the left, huh? “Suddenly he thought of something. “And where did he go?”

– You are not alone – the whole world would like to know where. The answer to this question would reveal the mystery of life.

– Well, I think it’s impossible for one person to know everything in the world – even a scientist like you.

Jensen pulled a flat gold watch out of his back pocket and looked at it with pleasure:

— Valuable item. No less than fifty cost, probably. And his wallet – mine – is solid: full of hoods! I got it all right, didn’t I?

Wayne was silent.

“Now get down to business,” Jensen said. – I’ll hide my body so that it catches the eye of the cops – that’s what the ringing will be! They will be delighted – they found the killer of the fat man. And just think – I will start a new life by rendering a service to the police! His attention shifted to Wayne. – I will keep the toy and the notes too. I’ll let you out as soon as I get to where I’m going to go.

Are you going to release me?

— Why not? I’ve improved, I’ve become a completely different person, haven’t I? You can chat as much as you like, who will believe you? He chuckled contentedly. – However, even if they believe, then what of it? What can they do to me? You can describe me in detail, take a picture, give them my fingerprints – they still won’t take me. They won’t know who I’ll be tomorrow or next week.

— But you promised to destroy the projector, didn’t you?

— Who, me? Kill the goose that lays the golden eggs? Find another fool!

Buttoning up his jacket, he swayed across the room, trying not to look at the limp body in the armchair.

– Now I can go wherever I want, do whatever I want: let them gather at least all the witnesses in the world, I don’t give a damn – who can identify me? Yes, as long as these Legashes are swinging, I will already be different. He slapped his thighs merrily, as if he had a brilliant idea. If I want to, I’ll be the King of Siam or the President of the United States!

Wayne froze in horror as he realized how much truth was hidden in these boastful statements. Before him was a power – a power before which law and order remained helpless. It was he, Wayne, who released her to freedom, to the joy and exultation of the entire underworld. Oh sure, Jensen will keep his secret to himself, jealously guarding him from other law breakers. But he himself was a threat – as an individual, or rather one of an endless string of elusive individuals.

Ten hours later, the thought still haunted Wayne. He stood on the grassy shoulder of a road that had not been traveled for a long time, watching the dapper, self-confident figure of a criminal disappear into the distance, rushing towards absolute, unfettered freedom. Jensen could have easily finished him off – it wouldn’t have hurt his conscience in the least, but for some reason Wayne didn’t know, he didn’t. Perhaps the scoundrel felt malevolent pleasure at the thought that the authorities would be alerted to the emergence of a problem that they could not solve. Or maybe he was afraid of any accidental malfunctions in the projector and left its author life so that he could fix possible damage.

The car sped away, raising a cloud of dust. Wayne watched her until she was out of sight, the words in his ears intrusively sounding: “Yes, I could take the place of the chief of police …” He stooped, he strode to the nearest village. “He can take anyone’s place,” Wayne muttered. “Whoever.” He repeated these words until they bored him. Then he slightly changed them and muttered: “Whatever he wants!” He stared at the sky, at the distant line of the horizon, he did not notice either one or the other, for he was completely captured by a new idea: “Whatever he wants . .. Lord, this is an idea! Whatever he wants!

In his twenty years of turbulent life outside the law, Jensen successfully managed to participate in even the most risky ventures. The only mistake he made was the second murder, which nearly cost him his life. He learned a lot from his fellow craftsmen, was a perfect master of the tactics and methods of his profession, and in the underworld enjoyed a reputation as an experienced and dexterous person. And this experience and dexterity were now enclosed in a young body, which almost automatically reacted to any criminal situation.

Walking towards the small provincial bank, Jensen was fully aware of his abilities. These simpletons keep their money as if they are just waiting to be pocketed by some lone robber. A couple of threatening gestures, a shot or two if necessary – and it’s in the bag. It’s easier not to think of it. The special charm of the forthcoming operation was given by several details that completed the performance. This time, the audience will do without the spectacular spectacle of a hasty escape, dizzying races in which the police car literally hangs on the tail of the criminal. Nor will he stoop to such a cheap melodramatic device as the black mask. He just goes in, takes it, goes out and hides it. And that’s all.

Which he did. He appeared in the lobby twenty seconds before closing time, when there was not a single customer left, and showed the cashier an item, which he casually took out of his pocket. The cashier looked out the window and turned pale.

– If you remain silent, I will not touch you.

To get his words across to the cashier’s mind, Jensen pushed the muzzle of his revolver forward a little and wondered if he’d managed to put on the savage face he could make before.

– Wrap the papers in a bag, I’ll take it with me. Get up and don’t hesitate to vote. If I like your service, I will visit you again.

Moving as if in a dream, the cashier hurriedly stuffed bundles of banknotes into a bag. The total amount was small. Jensen didn’t expect that this tiny office with two employees would be a big booty. But money, as it were, climbs into his hands and will help him hold out until he prepares for larger and more daring raids. Backing away, he walked to the door leading to the headmaster’s office and kicked it open. The worthy head of the bank reached into the bottle, but, seeing the muzzle of a pistol pointed at him, showed quick wits, closed his mouth and raised his hands. Jensen left the bank building two minutes later, closing the front door carefully behind him. The two men were locked in the director’s office, but he didn’t even bother to tie them up. They won’t be able to use the phone – he took care of that. It would take them at least five minutes to get out, which was more than enough time for him. Slowly, he got into the car, turned on the average speed and two minutes later he calmly locked the loot in the trunk of another car, which delivered him home to a one-room apartment. There he sat down in front of the window and waited. The projector’s helmet rested on his head, and the switch knob was easy to reach. All his attention, however, was concentrated on the window that overlooked the street. As he reached for the switch, the police chase had just begun.

He carefully hid the projector. In the end, that was what mattered most. The precious device required special care. It had to be preserved, no matter what the cost. He could not lose it, lose the opportunity to use it. No way, no money! If he ever had to choose between the apparatus and prey, he would not hesitate to send the prey to hell.

Thinking in this way, he sauntered along the street, hiding behind a new, somewhat more modest “facade”: his hands were thrust into the pockets of coarse, home-made trousers, ax shoes clatter on the pavement like steel shoes, his lips protruded – he was about to whistle. A funny feeling: happiness and horror at the same time. Here he is – out of reach, but in the ears there is still a death cry of a cat.