"Allen, Roger MacBride - Isaac Asimov's Robot Mysteries 02 - Isaac Asimov's Inferno" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

Ottley Bissal hung back from the entrance, taking shelter under the roofed-over aircar port, clinging to shadows. He was dry and clean now, having used the aircar portТs refresher station, put there a hundred years before for the convenience of guests who wished to tidy up before socializing at the GovernorТs Residence. Well, that description fit him.
Fear was starting to take its hold on him. So much could go wrong. The plan was good, and he knew what he was supposed to do--but nothing was foolproof. They had promised they would take care of him no matter what, but he knew that even the most powerful people could fail at times.
But revenge. Revenge. He had one taste of it already tonight--and what came next would be a full banquet, a blow struck against everything the world had ever owed him and failed to deliver, every betrayal put paid in one moment.
It would be enough. More than enough. What was a little fear, a little danger compared to the incomparable pleasure of destroying the greatest enemy of all?
Another aircar was coming in for a landing. Bissal stepped back, deeper into shadow, and waited for his moment. Soon. Very soon now.

Simcor BeddleТs aircar swooped down to a perfect landing and taxied smoothly in under the covered car park. Simcor smiled to himself, pleased with the skill of his robot pilot. Why settle for anything but the best? Simcor enjoyed his entrances, there was no doubt about that, and he was about to make a grand one. He dearly loved creating a scene.
Simcor Beddle was the leader of the Ironheads, a group of rowdies dedicated to the idea that the solution to any problem was more and better robots.
Right now, the Ironheads were enjoying their greatest popularity in years. The seizure of household robots for terraforming labor had done more to recruit new members than any steps the Ironheads could have taken on their own. They were on the verge of moving from a fringe radical group to a major political force.
And that represented some challenges. Simcor had not hesitated to employ outright thuggery in the past, but a mass movement required something closer to respectability if it was to remain credible. Not respectability itself, mind--the Ironheads were expected to be a bit beyond the pale. But the time was past where they could get anywhere by staging a riot. What they needed now was visibility, publicity stunts. And Simcor Beddle was delighted to provide them.
Simcor Beddle was a small man. His face was round and sallow, with hard gimlet eyes of uncertain color. His hair was glossy black, and cut just long enough to lie flat against his skull. He was heavy-set, verging on the rotund, but there was nothing soft about him. He was a strong, hard, determined man, who knew what he wanted and did not care what he had to do to accomplish it.
And tonight he wanted to cause trouble. For starters, he was going to crash the party. If there were a law against robots, he would break that law. Just let them try and arrest him.
The passenger door of his aircar swung up and open, and Simcor got out of his chair and stepped to the hatch. Sanlacor 1321 was there with an umbrella, of course, to ward off any rain that might blow into the aircar port. A covered walkway led from the port to the portico of the Residence, and the other guests were hurrying along under it, but Simcor marched purposefully out into the rain, with absolute faith and certainty that Sanlacor 1321 would keep the umbrella positioned perfectly to protect him from the storm.
Sanlacor 1321 succeeded admirably, trotting alongside him, keeping the umbrella under tight control in the driving rain. Sanlacor 1322 and 1323 followed close behind, all three robots walking in perfect lockstep with their master. The Sanlacors were tall, graceful, dignified-looking robots, metallic-silver in color, a perfect mobile backdrop for Beddle himself.
They reached the main entrance, not stopping or even slowing. The SSS agents on duty at the door came forward a step or two, ready to protest, until they recognized Beddle. Seeming to be unsure whether they should stop him or not, they hesitated just long enough for him to get through the door without breaking stride. There were often distinct advantages to being the most recognized man on the planet.
And then he was in, his robots with him, and, as he had calculated, there was no one there with enough backbone to demand that he send his robots away, let alone ask if he had an invitation.
And that in and of itself was a victory. Let the Settlers tell everyone else they could and could not have robots on the premises--Simcor Beddle was not going to knuckle under. He would take his robots where he wanted, when he wanted.
And if that caused problems for Governor Chanto Grieg, then Beddle would not mind at all.
He stood, smiling, at the entry to the Grand Hall, his robots at his back, every eye on him. Someone began to applaud, and someone else joined in, and then someone else. Slowly, uncertainly at first, but then with growing enthusiasm, the crowd joined in, until Beddle was surrounded by cheering voices and clapping hands. Yes. Yes. Very good. No matter if he had planted a flunky or two in the crowd to get the applause started. The crowd had joined in. He had managed to upstage the Governor completely.
Which was no bad thing, as Beddle planned to be Governor himself before very much longer.

Fredda Leving watched with the rest of the guests as Simcor Beddle accepted the cheers of the crowd, but she was certainly not among those joining in. ДIt looks as if Simcor Beddle has solved your problem,У she said to Caliban as the cheers died down. ДIt doesnТt seem likely that youТll be the center of attention tonight.У
ДI fear that man,У Prospero said.
ДAs well you should,У Fredda said,
ДEven after all this time, I must admit that I have a great deal of trouble understanding the manТs fanaticism.У
ДIf you ask me, heТs no fanatic at all,У Fredda replied. ДI almost wish he were. HeТd be far less dangerous if he actually believed in his cause. У
ДHe doesnТt believe in it?У
ДThe Ironheads are a useful means to an end, but if you ask me, Simcor Beddle doesnТt believe in anyone or anything besides Simcor Beddle. HeТs a demagogue, a rabble-rouser--and as much a danger to this planet as the collapsing ecology. У
ДBut why is he here?У Prospero asked.
ДTo undermine the occasion and make the Governor look bad, I suppose,У Fredda replied.
ДBut what is the significance of the occasion? Caliban tells me this is an important event,У Prospero said, Дbut he has not explained its importance to my satisfaction. Perhaps you would have more success.У
ДWell, it is the first time any Governor of Inferno has actually stayed in the GovernorТs Winter Residence in more than fifty years.У
ДAnd why is that of the slightest importance?У Prospero asked.
ДWell, I suppose it isnТt, in and of itself,У Fredda admitted. ДWhat is important is that it provides a way for the Governor to demonstrate that he--and through him, the Spacer government on Inferno--still controls the island of Purgatory.У
ДDoes ultimate control rest with the Spacers?У Prospero asked.
ДYou ask the most difficult questions, Prospero,У Fredda Leving said, a fleeting smile on her face. She hesitated, and then spoke again, her voice almost too low even for robot ears to catch. ДLegally, yes. Realistically, no. If it all gets to be too much of a headache for the Settlers, theyТll just walk away from the whole reterraforming project. The island of Purgatory would then revert to local control--but without the Settlers to run the Center, the island of Purgatory wonТt matter anymore.У
ДFor that matter, without my Settlers repairing the climate, it wonТt even be an island anymore,У a new voice volunteered.
ДGreetings, Madame Welton,У Caliban said.
ДHello, Tonya,У Fredda said, suddenly feeling a bit unsure of her ground. Tonya Welton was the leader of the Settlers on Inferno, and she and Fredda had often found themselves on opposite sides of an issue. They had good reason not to be glad of each otherТs company. Fredda would not have gone out of her way to seek Tonya out, and she was a bit surprised that Tonya would come to her. Tonya seemed to be acting civilly enough, but the operative words there were ДseemedУ and Дact. У Things could degenerate quickly.
Tonya Welton was tall, long-limbed, graceful, and dark-skinned, with a reputation for clothes that verged on the garish and the scandalous, compared to Infernal styles. Tonight was no exception. She wore a long red sheath dress that accentuated her profile and clung to her body as if painted on, the bodice cut daringly low. She was tough, hard, brash--and, improbably enough, still cohabitating with Gubber Anshaw, FreddaТs very shy and retiring former colleague.
ДHello, Caliban,У said Tonya Welton. ДHello, Fredda, Prospero. And, Fredda, next time you are trying not to be heard at one of these functions, bear in mind IТm not the only one who has practiced lip-reading.У
ДIТll remember that,У Fredda said.
ДHow is it that Purgatory is going to stop being an island?У Prospero asked.
ДSea levels are dropping,У Tonya said. ДThe ice cap is thickening. WeТve spotted three new Edge Islands emerging in the last month.У
ДSo the Edge Islands are finally corning true,У Fredda said.
ДThat is a serious development,У Caliban said.
Fredda was forced to agree. The island of Purgatory sat dead center in the middle of the Great Bay, and the bay was nothing more or less than a huge and ancient drowned caldera, its northern edge forming the coastline of the Great Bay. The island of Purgatory was the collapsed craterТs central peak, and the southern edge of the crater was hidden under the waves of the Southern Ocean.
But now the ocean waters were retreating, evaporating to fall as snow on the thickening north polar icecap. The highest points of the drowned calderaТs southern rim were emerging, forming a new--and most unwelcome--chain of islands. The doomsayers--and the more responsible climate scientists--had been predicting the advent of the Edge Islands for a long time.
ДItТs not exactly a surprise,У Fredda said, Дbut it does put that much more pressure on the Governor. ItТll throw a scare into a few people.У