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

Tonya Welton smiled unpleasantly. ДThe question is,У she said, Дwhat will being scared inspire those people to do? Nice to see you all. Д And with that, she nodded and turned away.
ДNice sort of person, isnТt she?У Fredda asked. ДWhy do I get the feeling she was not trying to set us at ease?У
ДI never have gotten very good at dealing with rhetorical questions,У Prospero said. ДDid you actually wish for one or both of us to venture an answer?У
ДBelieve me, if you have any useful insights as to what goes on in Tonya WeltonТs mind, IТd love to have them.У
ДI doubt anything we might say could be of much use,У Prospero replied in thoughtful tones. ДIt did seem as if she had more on her mind than polite conversation, but I have never pretended to understand very much about human politics.У
Fredda Leving laughed and shook her head. ДNobody does, Prospero. Humans spend a huge amount of time and effort on it precisely because no one knows for sure what they are doing. If we understood it fully, if the same things always worked or failed, then politics would be no use whatsoever. It is only valuable because we donТt know how it works.У
ДI would submit,У Caliban says,, Сthat you have just offered a splendid summing up for all the contradictions of human behavior. Only humans would work hardest on what they do not understand.У
And Fredda Leving found that she had no useful answer to that.

Sero Phrost put a small, faint smile on his face as he stepped from a side room into the Grand Hall. He had watched BeddleТs grand entrance with more than a little amusement. Simcor always did need to grab the whole stage for himself. Sero watched as Simcor sent the robots away. He had made his point, and apparently didnТt want the great silver robots coming between him and his audience.
It did not seem, at first, that anyone had noticed SeroТs arrival, but Sero knew better than that--and knew that pretending to have no interest in attracting attention was often the surest way to obtain the attention of a more discerning audience.
And there were certainly lots of people here whose interest he wanted--starting with Beddle, Beddle the virulently anti-Settler, rabidly pro-robot, and, needless to say, one of GriegТs harshest critics. Beddle was still surrounded by a crowd of sycophants, all of them laughing a bit too loudly, behaving just a trifle too belligerently. Beddle caught PhrostТs eye and gave him a nod. Later they would talk.
And there was Tonya Welton, leader of the Settlers. Quite an occasion to get her in the same room with Beddle, Phrost thought. And quite a feather in my cap when they both want to talk to me. And that was no flight of imagination, either. Phrost had no doubt that both had hope of receiving his aid. The trick would be for him to provide it to both, and make gain in return from both, without either being the wiser.
Tonya Welton was making her excuses to the knot of people she was chatting with, clearly intending to come and welcome Phrost. He toyed with the idea of heading over to meet her halfway, but decided to indulge himself. Enjoy the moment. Let her come to him. He had worked long and hard to get this far. Why not enjoy it? He pretended not to notice Welton, and gestured to one of the waiters for a drink. Strange, very strange, to be served by a human servant--and an armed one at that. GovernorТs Rangers on security duty, and picking up the tasks that would normally have been done by robots. The one who gave Phrost his drink was clearly none too pleased by the assignment.
Phrost was a tall, ruddy-faced man, a bit too strong-featured to be called handsome in any conventional sense, his cold grey eyes a bit too calculating in their expression for anyone to imagine him as charming.
His face was well lined, but not so much as to make him appear old or worn-out. On the contrary, the lines that life had etched on his face spoke of vigor and energy, of a life full of activity and experience. Phrost was enough of an egotist to be aware of his own appearance and reputation, and take some pleasure in them, but he was enough of a realist to know that a great deal of it was illusion. He was no more active or determined than the average person--but it was often helpful for other people to think of him in such terms.
His hair had been jet-black not so very long ago, but now it had turned to salt-and-pepper, the white hairs just starting to be more common than the black. Phrost could not help but notice that the touch of grey had a profound effect on the way people reacted to him. In a culture that respected age and sober experience more than it valued youth and enthusiasm, a few genteel marks of maturity were good for business, and that was all that mattered.
Ostensibly, what Phrost did was to serve as the middleman for the extremely short list of Settler products that Spacer law allowed to be imported. He also represented the even shorter list of Spacer export products that Settlers were willing to buy. In reality, of course, the main purposes of his import-export business was to serve as a cover for all his other activities.
And it had led to his being selected to represent the combine of Spacer industrialists bidding on the Limbo Control System project. It was the single largest, and most complex, part of the reterraforming project. There was a Settler bid as well, of course. Whichever of the two sides won the job would win the lionТs share of all the work that followed. It was no small thing for Sero Phrost to be representing the home side in such things. It made him even more a man of influence and power.
But for all of that, Phrost was, first and last, a salesman. Like all good salesmen, he knew that what he was selling was himself. He counted himself exceedingly lucky that the passages of time had enhanced, rather than diminished, his marketability.
So he came to this party to be seen, to do some business, to forge a new alliance or two, to strengthen the old ones. And here was Tonya Welton.
ДGood evening, Sero, Д she said.
ДGood evening, Madame Welton,У Phrost replied. He took her hand and kissed it, a somewhat theatrical gesture, but one that he knew pleased her. ДIТm glad to see you here.У
ДAnd I you,У she replied. ДThe Governor needs all his friends around him tonight. У
ДSo the Settlers are still supporting the Governor? In spite of this jurisdiction fight?У
ДWe do not support him in all things,У Welton replied, choosing her words carefully. ДBut we certainly are in favor of the general thrust of his program. Though we do feel it is best if we offer our support--quietly.У
ДYour overt support not being the most useful thing the Governor could have at this point,У Phrost said, being deliberately blunt. Tonya Welton was a woman who played hard, and sometimes a little dirty. He knew she was not the sort who would respect the obsequious approach. He would have been quite prepared to use such a gambit if he thought it would work.
ДNo, I suppose not,У Tonya said, offering a smile remarkable in its transparent insincerity. ДBut your support for us, Sero. That is something I would like to be made much more public.У
Precisely the sort of feeler he had expected her to make. ДWe all must move carefully in these times,У Phrost said. ДBut yes, certainly, I do wish to work more closely with your people. IТve done well selling Settler hardware to tide us over the robot shortage--selling it quietly--and IТd like to do better. But, frankly, open association with the Settlers could be a dangerous thing. One must balance risk and benefit.У
ДСBenefit,Т Д she said. ДSo we come to the point. What is it you want? What СbenefitТ are you after?У
ДWhat is it you want? What risk do you want me to take? I canТt name my price until I know what the service is to be,У Phrost said.
Welton hesitated for a moment before she spoke. ДVisibility,У she said. ДWe have gone as far as we can working quietly. ItТs all very well to do private sales of our machinery here and there, but it is not enough.У
ДEnough for what purpose?У Phrost asked. ДEnough to wean this planet away from robots? Do you plan to use commercial means to accomplish what diplomacy could not?У He had to tread carefully here. Visibility was the one thing he could not afford to offer. The moment his alliance with Welton and the Settlers became known, his equally profitable dealings with the Ironheads would be at an end.
ДOur goals are not so grandiose,У Tonya replied. The words Дnot yetУ were unspoken, but they were there for all of that. ДWe merely wish that Settler products--and thus, by extension. all things Settler--become more acceptable to the people of this world.У
ДForgive me,У Phrost replied, Дbut I still do not understand how or why making my part in all this more СvisibleТ is of any use to anyone. Do you wish me to endorse Settler products in some way? I can tell you that will be very little more than an elaborate way for me to commit suicide, certainly in a professional sense--and perhaps in a literal one as well.У
Tonya Welton seemed about to reply, but she was silenced by a new arrival to the conversation. Shelabas Quellam, President of the Legislative Council, was coming over. He was a short, somewhat overweight man who gave the quite accurate impression of being indecisive and easily led. ДGood evening, Madame Welton. Hello, Sero. Consorting with the enemy, I see,У he said in an attempt at a jovial tone, though his rather high and squeaky voice could not quite bring it off.
ДGood evening, Legislator Quellam. I would prefer to think of us as all being friends,У Tonya Welton replied, her voice cold and angry.
ДOh, dear,У Quellam said, realizing his attempt at humor had failed. ДI assure you, Madame Welton, I spoke in jest. I intended no offense.У
ДWhat brings you over, Shelabas?У asked Phrost. ДIs there something on your mind?У If such a thing is possible, Phrost added to himself.
ДYes, why in fact there is. I saw the two of you together, and thought it might be the perfect moment to discuss new measures on smuggling.У
ДI beg your pardon?У Welton asked.
ДSmuggling,У Quellam said. ДIt seemed to me that the head of the Settlers on Inferno and the leading trading magnate on the planet might well have some thoughts on the subject. I am sure we all want to cut down on illicit imports of Settler technology. That is in all our interests, surely. ItТs destabilizing our economy, and no doubt your government loses money on such illegal sales, does it not, Madame Welton? No tax revenue, and so forth?У
ДTo be brutally honest,У Tonya said, ДSpacer currency is worth so little on Settler worlds that the average freebooter canТt be bothered with it. After all, what could she buy with it? The Settler governments would have to subsidize any goodsized smuggling operation if the smugglers were to receive any profit. Trust me. Any large-scale Settler smuggling on this planet would have to have government support. У
ДSubsidize smugglers? Why in Space would the Settler governments do such a thing?У
ДWho can say?У Tonya said with a toss of her head. Дperhaps some irresponsible elements among the Settlers have some idea that destabilizing a rotten, outmoded system might not be such a bad idea. If youТll excuse me, gentlemen. У She turned and walked away.
ДOh, dear, I appear to have said the wrong thing,У said Shelabas Quellam. ДI didnТt intend for that to happen.У
Sero Phrost smiled, but did not reply. Quellam was applying the sentiment to the present rather awkward social circumstance, but things happening without his intending them was the story of ShelabasТ life. He had, for example, never had any intention of reaching his current station--and importance--in life.
Shelabas Quellam was the President of the Legislative Council. In years gone past, when the world of Inferno had been a calm and placid place, and Infernal politics had been closer to comatose than dormant, the Council Presidency was where you put a man like Quellam. A ceremonial post, a place reserved for an amiable man willing to serve as a figurehead.
But Infernal politics had come alive with a vengeance in the last year, and the Council Presidency was suddenly a vital piece on the gameboard.
Back in the old days, even the Governorship had been in large part a ceremonial post. One incumbent after another served out repeated twenty-year terms, doing little or nothing besides holding entertainments before retiring or going on to some other career. There had seemed little purpose to be served in having a Vice Governor as well, as the holder of that post would have even less to do--and less prestige.