"Allston, Aaron - Doc Sidhe 01 - Doc Sidhe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allston Aaron)

УI had Costigan make up some of those instant business cards out of a machine. General Carpentry. Gave one to every apartment manager on the block and quoted nice high rates. But for the manager of the girlТs building, he had a special offer. A low, low introductory rate. AndЧsurprise!Чit turns out the manager had a door he wanted repaired. We gave it to him dirt cheap . . . and while Costigan was doing the repairs, he asked the manager how the door got broken.Ф Phipps smiled in rich appreciation. УThe manager told him the story. Also, how he had to collect the girlТs mail and send it to her, since her keys were lost. Costigan got him alone and asked him a few questions.Ф
УAnd?Ф
УAnd then he finished fixing the door.Ф
УNo, I meanЧthe manager?Ф
УOh. HeТs gone on a river cruise. He may pop up in a few months.Ф
The old man crinkled a smile at PhippsТ word-play. УGood. WeТll visit Miss Donohue again tonight, after the house is asleep. Do you have a man in place?Ф
УNaturally. IТll have the device out to him within the hour.Ф
УExcellent.Ф The old man waved him away. But as Phipps reached the door, he called, УBill?Ф
УYes?Ф
УIf you had the choice, would you lead an army, rule a nation, or retire to a life of decadent self-gratification?Ф
Phipps smiled. He never knew whether the old man were testing or taunting, so he always answered honestly. УIТd take the army.Ф
УI knew it. Go on, then. Get someone who is good at intrusion. And make yourself ready at moonrise.Ф

Chapter Eight
The site foreman, a squat man who waddled comically as he walked, but looked as though he could bench-press an I-beam, guided Doc and Harris to the open-faced elevator. He handed a pair of long-cuffed leather gloves to each of them. УJosephТs up eighty,Ф he said. УMy best man. HeТs not in trouble?Ф
УNo trouble,Ф Doc said, and put the elevator into motion. He donned the gloves, and Harris followed suit.
As the elevator rose, Harris watched the metal girders flash by. УThese look like the ones at home. Steel I-beams and H-beams.Ф
УYes.Ф
УTheyТre steel? I thought you people had a problem with that.Ф
Doc nodded. УThatТs why he gave us gloves. You donТt need them; I do. Workers wear very heavy protective gear so they never touch the metal. Hundreds die every year from heat; and in spite of the fact that they try to hire only those with some immunity, many others die of poisoning. But if weТre to have modern towers, we have to have steel frames.Ф There was a melancholy light in his eye that Harris found unsettling.
Harris drew off his gloves again. УI guess when you put up all the wood and Sheetrock around the girders, itТs safe to live in.Ф
УNot entirely. I invented a process to bond neutral agents against the steel when itТs all erected, and that is how the Monarch Building was crafted; but not every builder uses it, as itТs costly. And when buildings that donТt use it get old, cracks open, rain leaks in, rust seeps through, and rust poisonings take place. A particular problem in the tenements, where rust poisoning makes hundreds or thousands of babies mind-damaged every year.Ф
УOh.Ф There was not much Harris could say to that. It all sounded very familiar, and he was struck by how much things were the same between this fair world and his grim world, despite their many differences. УYou helped build the Monarch Building?Ф
УItТs what I do. I design things. Buildings, aircraft, devices. But there tend to be interruptions. Such as when people try to kill me. The Monarch Building is one of mine.Ф
Harris heard metallic clanking and banging long before Doc brought the car to a halt at one of the unfinished upper levels. In front of the car was a wooden platform; beyond that, open air a long way down. Harris stepped out on the platform but stood well back from the edge; he managed to quell his stomachТs mild rebellion as he looked around.
He stood on the only flooring to be found on the whole level. But all over Уup eightyФ and the floor below, men worked, creating the cacophony Harris had heard.
One story down, odd metal contraptions were set up on small wooden platforms. Each device looked like a small metal cauldron on a stand; affixed to the cauldron was a crank-operated attachment. Men worked the cranks to blow air into the cauldrons, super-heating the contents to incandescence.
Harris watched one of the men take a pair of tongs, fish around in the glowing mass within the cauldron, and then expertly flick something up into the air. A man on HarrisТ level caught the cherry-red flying thing in a brass bucket and immediately used tongs of his own to fish it out; Harris now saw that the thing was a big rivet. The bucket-man shoved the rivet into holes bored through a girder and the bracketlike framework it rested in. Two waiting men, one on either side of the girder, stepped into place; they carried coppery cylinders attached to firehoselike tubes stretching out of sight below. Each positioned his device over one protruding end of the rivet; there was an angry brrraaapp, like a short burst from a high-pitched jackhammer, and the men stepped back, satisfied.
All over the naked steelwork of the skyscraper, the same scene was being played over and over again. Other crews of men guided crane operators moving more girders into position, lowered them into place, fixed them there with temporary bolts.
These were men of all sizes, ranging from some three-quarters HarrisТ height to others nearly as tall as he. Most had nut-brown or red-clay-colored skin; they were earth-toned from head to foot because of the brown leather pants, jackets, and gloves they wore. Only their cloth caps, in red, green, yellow, and other colors, and the orange-red hair some of them had, gave them any color. They walked fearlessly on precariously narrow girders as though they couldnТt see the thousand feet of open space between them and the ground.
And one of the men, positioned at a far corner of the building under construction, towered over the rest.
He was a freak compared to the others. If Harris gauged his size correctly, he was enormous, the height of an NBA basketball player, the build of a boxer. He was nut-brown like most of the rest, but his hair was a long blond cascade. Unlike the others, he wore only boots and a pair of lightweight tan pants. He had two partners, one catching the rivets and the other helping him drive them into place; normal sized for men of Neckerdam, they looked like midgets next to him.
Doc spotted the gigantic man and headed toward himЧcasually walking out onto the metal that stretched weblike over that long, long drop to the ground.
Harris froze where he was. Doc reached the first upright girder and began to edge around it, then realized that Harris was no longer behind him. He looked back and after a moment said, УStay here. IТll return in a minute.Ф He stepped around the upright barrier and continued onward.
Something wilted inside Harris. He knew that, in DocТs eyes, he had to have just ceased being an adult human and had become a child. Dammit.
He sat down and yanked off his shoes and socks. If he were going to do this, he wouldnТt do it on slick leather soles. Then he rose, poised for a long, long moment at the edge of the wooden platform . . . and stepped out onto the cool metal girder.
One step. Still alive. Two steps, still alive. He reminded himself that as a kid he was always good at walking on the top of the curb, graceful and balanced.
Then he looked down, watched the girders of the steel skeleton growing together far, far below, and he was suddenly reminded that a fall off an Iowa City curb led to a four-inch drop. This sudden impulse of his would kill him if he slipped. A wind brushed at him and his stomach lurched.
He reached the first upright girder and clung to it. Still, there was no going back. He edged around the obstruction to the horizontal girder on the other side and kept going, making slow and steady progress, grabbing hard onto each upright beam as he came to it.
He heard a dry chuckle from one side. There stood the partners of the giant construction worker, one girder-length off to his left. They leaned casually against an upright, helpfully staying out of the way of this high-steel virgin, and lit smoking-pipes as they laughed at his progress. Then one of them glanced down at HarrisТ bare feet and his chuckle choked off. Harris shot them both a scowl and kept going.
An eternity later, he crept around the final upright. Ahead stood Doc, his back to Harris. Doc faced the big, bare-chested worker, and Harris realized that his estimation of size was correct; the worker towered over Doc, more than a head taller than the white-haired man.
Doc must have heard HarrisТ approach; he turned. УJoseph, this is Harris Greene, the grimworlder I told you of. Harris, this is Joseph.Ф
Harris said, УHi,Ф looked up into JosephТs face . . . and froze.
JosephТs features were just somehow wrong. He had high cheekbones, wide-set eyes, a wide mouthЧa strong combination. But there was something incomplete about his features, as though he were a doll who had not been detailed after emerging from the mold, or a cartoon character suddenly brought to life in the real world. Seen by himself, he might have been considered handsome. But alongside Doc, the perfection of his features seemed alien.
Joseph, expressionless, gave Harris a slow nod, then returned his attention to Doc. УI donТt want to remember that. I donТt want to remember you. I have a life now, and good pay for easy work. DonТt drag me back into your circle.Ф His voice was a deep, throaty rumble; Harris thought he could feel it vibrating in the steel under his feet.
УJoseph, this is important. Angus Powrie and his new master are up to something. Using devisements and devices worthy of Duncan Blackletter himself. Sending agents to the grim world and bringing people like Harris back.
УYou owe it to me. I freed you. Now I need you.Ф
Joseph stared. His expression did not change, nor did his eyes, but something did, and Harris imagined the huge, unfinished man swinging out an arm and casually batting Doc off the girder. Doc must have felt it too; he took a step back and balanced himself for trouble.
But Joseph crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. УDeath follows you, Doc, and strikes down those who help you and love you while leaving you unharmed. But youТre right. I owe you a debt. I will pay it. I hope you donТt kill me in collecting it.Ф
Doc was silent a long moment and Harris wished he could see his face. Then Doc said, УDid Duncan ever talk about the grim world?Ф