"Ballard, J G - Cloud Scultors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ballard J G)

spectators drove off before I could reach them. As I hovered
about uncertainly, wondering why on earth a retired and
well-to-do Air Force officer should be trying to collect these
few dollar bills. Van Eyck stepped behind me and took the
helmet from my hand.
"Not now, major. Look at what arrivesmy apoc-
alypse. . . ."
I A white RoUs-Royce, driven by a chauffeur in 'braided
I cream livery, had turned off the highway. Through the
tinted communication window a young woman in a secre-
tary's day suit spoke to the chauffeur. Beside her, a gloved
hand still holding the window strap, a white-haired woman
with jewelled eyes gazed up at the circling wings of the
cloud-glider. Her strong and elegant face seemed sealed
within the dark glass of the limousine like the enigmatic
madonna of some marine grotto.
Van Eyck's glider rose into the air, soaring upwards to
the cloud that hung above Coral D. I walked back to my car,
searching the sky for Nolan. Above, Van Eyck was producing
a pastiche Mona Lisa, a picture postcard gioconda 'as au-
thentic as a plaster virgin. Its glossy finish shone in the over-
bright sunlight as if enamelled together out of some cosmetic
foam.
Then Nolan dived from the sun behind Van Eyck. Roll-
ing his black-winged glider past Van Eyck's, he drove
through the neck of the gioconda, and with the flick of a
wing toppled the broad-cheeked head. It fell towards the
cars below. The features disintegrated into a flaccid mess,
I sections of the nose and jaw tumbling through the steam.
* Then wings brushed. Van Eyck fired his spray gun at Nolan,
) and there was a flurry of torn fabric. Van Eyck fell from the
) air, steering his glider down to a broken landing.
I ran over to him. "Charles, do you have to play Von
I Richthofen? For God's sake, leave each other alone I"
L Van Eyck waved me away. "Talk to Nolan, major. Fm
i not responsible for bis air piracy." He stood in the cockpit,
\ gazing over the cars as the shreds of fabric fell around 'him.
: I walked back to my car, deciding that the time had come
' to disband the cloud-sculptors of Coral D. Fifty yards away
' the young secretary an the RoUs-Royce had stepped from the
i car and beckoned to me. Through the open door her mistress
i watched me with her jewelled eyes. Her white hair lay in a
\ coil over one shoulder like a nacreous serpent.
' I carried my flying helmet down to the young woman.
'<: Above a high forehead her aubum hair was swept back in a
' defensive bun, as if she were deliberately concealing part of
' herself. She stared with puzzled eyes at the helmet held
out in front of her.
' "I don't want to flywhat is it?"
"A grace," I explained. "For the repose of Michelangelo,