"Anderson,_Kevin_J._-_Identity_Crisis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

Eduard's vocal cords were raspy and uncooperative from the heavy anesthetic as well as the weariness of innumerable years. "What ... why are you here?"
Daragon smiled down at him, resplendent in his BTL insignia. "I just wanted to make sure nothing ... uh, _accidentally_ happened during your surgery." He flashed a glance over at the crowded lawyers, Ruxton's family members, and Eduard's home-body, who stood with shoulders squared, arrogant, head held high.
"Am I ... was the surgery successful?" He tried to raise himself, but was unable to. His arms felt like wet balsa wood.
Daragon bent closer. "Oh, yes. I spoke to the doctors immediately before they operated on you. We encouraged them to make sure you pulled through. I believe your recovery will be a swift one." He turned, looking once more at the Ruxton cadre, all of whom only scowled back at him.
"Thank you, Daragon," Eduard rasped through the old woman's wattled throat. "It's good to see you again."
* * * *
When the doctors said Eduard was healthy enough to sit in a hoverchair, Daragon returned to push him out of the room. He brought seven impressive-looking BTL officers with him. Forming a grim protective barrier, they escorted him down the corridors to where Ruxton's lawyers waited. Eduard did not like the look on Daragon's face.
Her attorneys already had more documents drawn up, but Daragon opened the conversation by saying, "He's healthy enough. The doctors expect a full and complete recovery. Eduard has done his part."
"I'm afraid my body's not yet entirely recovered," Madame Ruxton said, sitting imperiously in Eduard's form, drinking sweetened tea. Sitting in his wheelchair, Eduard wrinkled his nose. Personally, he despised sweetened tea.
One of the lawyers held forth a document. "We have here depositions from the medical professionals who have inspected -- " He paused, then looked over at the withered woman in the hoverchair, " -- who have inspected this body. This person still has severe liver problems, as well as the potential for total kidney failure within the next year. The pulmonary system remains at greatly diminished capacity." He held up the original paper. "Our signed contract specifically requires that Eduard remain in Madame Ruxton's former body until _full recovery_." The attorney gestured with a clean, manicured hand. "I'm afraid that what we have here is not 'full recovery,' by any stretch of the imagination."
Eduard felt cold inside, wondering if Ruxton's cronies had managed to outwit him. He'd been uneasy before about not getting his own attorney, but had blustered through with arrogance and misguided pride. He felt stupid, and he hated to feel stupid. He had been trapped by his own naivete.
"I'm afraid that's not acceptable," Daragon said calmly, "and obviously beyond the intent of the original contract." The Beetles stepped around him, flanking Eduard in the hoverchair. They moved closer, intimidating.
Ruxton's lawyers crossed their arms over their chests in unison, like some sort of choreographed act. "We have the resources to tie this up in litigation for years, if necessary. Either way, Madame Ruxton will win."
"And the BTL has the power to impound all of her assets in anticipation of our eventual victory," Daragon countered. "I can cite numerous precedents."
Eduard blinked, without the strength to move or even to speak for himself.
"That is unacceptable," Daragon repeated. "You'll swap back now."
He nudged Eduard's hoverchair forward. Madame Ruxton didn't move.
Daragon lowered his voice and withdrew a spray vial from a pouch at his belt. "You've heard of Scramble? A drug that breaks down your barriers and allows someone to swap with you, no matter how much you resist."
Finally Madame Ruxton flew to her feet and whirled, staring down at her weakened body in the hoverchair. "What've you paid them? I can double what you've offered. What kind of pull do you have with the Bureau?"
Eduard just shrugged his bony shoulders.
She snapped at Daragon and all the other Beetles. "I can pay you twice what he's paying you. Right now, in cash."
Daragon said, "Attempted bribery of a BTL officer is an actionable offense. We have a room full of witnesses. Shall I take you into custody now?"
A lawyer leaned close to her. "That was not very wise, Madame Ruxton."
"If you swap now with Eduard, perhaps we can forget the entire matter," Daragon said. The other Beetles pressed closer.
Teeth clenched, eyes flashing behind Eduard's familiar face, Ruxton sighed with enough vehemence that she spat out her breath. "Oh, very well!"
She leaned down to the hoverchair and touched her own temples. Eduard looked up at her with weak eyes, and it seemed as if she ripped his consciousness free and slammed it back into his own body.
Madame Ruxton sulked back into her wheelchair-bound form.
Eduard reeled, disoriented to be healthy and energetic again, but glad to have his home-body back. Each breath seemed like liquid honey in his lungs. His muscles tingled, so alive again, finally.
The attorneys guided the old woman's chair away, making excuses as she railed at them.
Daragon smiled at Eduard, then gestured for the other Beetles to leave them in private. Once they were alone, though, Daragon's face tightened into a scowl, and he no longer wore a victorious expression. "That wasn't the brightest thing you've ever done, Eduard. Why didn't you obtain your own counsel?"
Eduard did not even try to excuse his stupidity. "I assumed I knew what could happen. But I didn't imagine half of the contingencies. I was clueless."
"You were out of your league."
Eduard could not stop himself from grinning, touching a ghost pain in his chest from where the operation scars had been. "Do you know how much they paid me for that? I can survive for a year on those credits!"
"You almost didn't survive for a day. Ruxton's group had already tried to pay off the doctors." Daragon bent over, frowning with concern. "Is this the way you really want to live, Eduard?"
Eduard pursed his lips, thinking. "I'll just have to be more careful next time. Thank you very much. I owe you one."
Daragon just shook his head, and said his brief, brusque farewells. Eduard drew a lungful of air and raised his head high, glad to be alive.
--------
*VIII*
When he went for his weekly meeting with Mordecai Ob, Daragon wore his trim, neatly pressed uniform. The broad-shouldered Bureau Chief stared into the gas fireplace, where silent flames forever attempted to consume ceramic logs. Stacks of memos and summaries of investigations-in-progress lay piled around him. On a routine day, all aspects of the BTL would have fascinated Ob. But at the moment he appeared to have lost interest.
"What's wrong, sir?" Daragon said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
The Chief blinked at him in surprise. "Do you now have the talent to read into troubled matters of the human heart, as well as just spotting identities?"
Daragon stood at attention, keeping the grin off his face. "I just try to be perceptive, sir."
"My troubles have nothing to do with the Bureau." Ob picked up a printout and scanning it, but he was just fidgeting to distract himself. "Time to get back to work."
"Sir, all aspects of your life concern the Bureau -- especially if it has any impact on your ability to function here."
"That sounds like something _I_ would tell my best trainee."
"Your best trainee just said it to you, sir. What can I do to help?"
Using a control near the front drawer, Ob turned the flames down. "I've recently lost my personal trainer, and I need a replacement. Someone to exercise and keep me in shape. I'm not looking forward to the frustration and attendant difficulties. I've got enough to do." He flexed his arm, gripping the bicep. "I try to keep myself fit. I find it sharpens my mind. But I don't have time to do it myself."
Daragon considered, the wheels already turning in his mind. "What type of person, exactly, are you looking for, sir?"
"As I said, I'm proud of my body. I won't give it to just anyone." Ob folded his big hands in front of him, no longer making any pretense of working with the papers. "I need someone I can trust, someone to do that workout for me, so I can devote my energy to administering our great organization."
Daragon clasped his hands behind his back, standing tall. "Would you mind very much if we skipped our briefing for this morning, sir? I think I've got the right person for you."