"Bester, Alfred - Demolished Man, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bester Alfred)

facilities, we have been mouse-trapped by D'Courtney into bidding for inferior
people while D'Courtney has quietly appropriated the best."
"Damn you!" Reich shouted. "Damn D'Courtney. All right. Set it up. And tell this
Blonn to start mouse-trapping D'Courtney. You'd better start, too."
Reich tore out of Personnel and over to Sales-city. The same unpleasant
information was waiting for him. Monarch Utilities & Resources was losing the
gut-fight with the D'Courtney Cartel. It was losing the fight in every
sector-city---Advertising, Engineering, Research, Public Relations. There was no
escaping the certainty of defeat. Reich knew his back was to the wall.
He returned to his own office and paced in a fury for five minutes. "It's no
use," he muttered. "I know I'll have to kill him. He won't accept merger. Why
should he? He's licked me and he knows it. I'll have to kill him and I'll need
help. Peeper help."
He flipped on the v-phone and told the operator; "Recreation."
A sparkling lounge appeared on the screen, decorated in chrome and enamel,
equipped with game tables and a bar dispenser. It appeared to be and was used as
a recreation center. It was, in fact, headquarters of Monarch's powerful
espionage division. The Recreation Director, a bearded scholar named West,
looked up from a chess problem, then rose to attention.
"Good morning, Mr. Reich."
Warned by the formal `Mister,' Reich said: "Good morning, Mr. West. Just a
routine check. Paternalism, you know. How's amusement these days?"
"Modulated, Mr. Reich. However, I must complain, sir. I think there's entirely
too much gambling going on." West stalled in a fussy voice until two bona fide
Monarch clerks innocently finished their drinks and departed. Then he relaxed
and slumped into his chair. "All clear, Ben. Shoot."
"Has Hassop broken the confidential code yet, Ellery?"
The peeper shook his head.
"Trying?"
West smiled and nodded.
"Where's D'Courtney?"
"En route to Terra, aboard the `Astra'."
"Know his plans? Where he'll be staying?"
"No. Want a check?"
"I don't know. It depends..."
"Depends on what?" West glanced at him curiously. "I wish the Telepathic Pattern
could be transmitted by phone, Ben. I'd like to know what you're thinking at."
Reich smiled grimly. "Thank God for the phone. At least we've got that
protection from mind readers. What's your attitude on crime, Ellery?"
"Typical."
"Of anybody?"
"Of the Guild. The Guild doesn't like it, Ben."
"So what's so hot about the Esper Guild? You know the value of money, success...
Why don't you clever-up? Why do you let the Guild do your thinking?"
"You don't understand. We're born in the Guild. We live with the Guild. We die
in the Guild. We have the right to elect Guild officers, and that's all. The
Guild runs our professional lives. It trains us, grades us, sets ethical
standards, and sees that we stick to them. It protects us by protecting the
layman, the same as medical associations. We have the equivalent of the
Hippocratic Oath. It's called the Esper Pledge. God help any of us if we break