"Adam Roberts - Balancing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Robert)

'Please,' said the Devil, leading him back up the roof towards a skylight
and pressing down on Allen's shoulder until he was seated on the lip of
it. 'There's no need for you to muck about. Which is to say,
know-what-I-mean? -- don't please.' Delicately, the Devil lowered himself
to sit next to Allen on the lower ridge of the skylight. He even let out a
small grunt of satisfaction, as if he had been on his feet for far too
long.
'Who are you?' Allen asked.
'Devil.'
'How,' said Allen, looking around, 'how did you bring me up here?'
'Now,' said the Devil, his eyes puckering with the edge of irritation. 'I
really don't have time for all that. You know who I am. You even recognise
me.'
Allen stared hard at the man, and then looked away. This was ridiculous.
What was he doing on the roof? The roof of all places? I mean, as he was
prone to saying, pur-lease. Roof! Chilly, ice-coloured clouds were rushing
across the sky, as if hurrying to leave London. Below him the morning rush
in the city was dying down. From where he was sitting he could see right
up Tallow Chandler Street, where the last grey-suited figure was jogging
clumsily, chasing the vanishing 8.30 clock-in. A pair of tourists,
immensely fat, were standing placidly on the pavement watching this person
go past.
'Are you Death?' asked Allen. The whole encounter had a curiously vivid
quality. Could he have fallen down in the lobby in some sort of fit? Was
this a reverie preluding his own death? He tried to picture ambulance-men
clustering round his body, the hubbub downstairs. But that image refused
to come alive in his mind.
'Must say,' said the Devil, muttering. 'I'm rather too pressed for time
for games. You're not the only one with appointments to keep.' Then he
smiled, very wide.
Allen glanced at his watch. A shade after half past. The second hand was
twitching its way round the track. Shouldn't it have stopped? But the
needle-thin hand was still trembling on, pushing inexorably onwards.
Towards the time of his meeting with Kaufmann. He had a meeting with
Kaufmann, and you know how cranky Kaufmann gets if you turn up late. He
turned to the Devil.
'What is this then?' he asked. 'What is it you want?'
The Devil sighed shallowly, and made a languid gesture with his hand. 'A
much healthier attitude. And, yes, as it happens I am here to make you an
offer.'
'An offer.' The morning air was cold so high up. It being summer, Allen
had decided not to wear the overcoat on his way to work. The crush of the
tube would have made it uncomfortably warm. But up on the roof, with the
fresh young breezes of the day straining through the material of his shirt
directly onto his skin, he began to wish he had something to keep him
warmer.
The Devil inclined his head.
'What sort of offer?' Allen said.
'An unusual one. One that demonstrates my power. And, I might say, one
without obligation to yourself of any kind.'