"Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Claire Moffatt 01 - Dark Satanic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

"Well, I can't argue that" Melford said, a little impatiently-. "It isn't my field. I just know that the books sell well and that there are a tremendous number of people in this country who read everything they can get on the subjectЧincluding every new John Cannon. But it's you that's being persecutedЧnot me. I can laugh off phone calls like the one I just got, but you surely aren't going to let them scare you off, are. you, Jock?"
"I hope not. But"ЧMs voice shook a littleЧ"I just don't know what to do. The letter I got this morning
He rummaged in a pocket and spread a single sheet of paper on the desk. Both men bent over it. It read, in straggling block printing:
WITHDRAW YOUR NEW BOOK
AND SAVE YOUR LIFEЧOR
JONATHAN LAWRENCE CANNON
PREPARE TO DIE.
Melford shook his head, Ms lips pressed tight in anger. "They seem to know the name you sign your contracts with, for what that's worth" was Ms only comment
Cannon's voice was diffident. "I don't suppose you'd want toЕ withdraw the book?"
"Are you out of your head? I said I thought it was your best so far. What does your wife say about all this, Jock?"
"I've tried to keep it from her," Cannon replied. "All except the dead chicken. She found it, and it shook her up. Bess is a good sport, and she traipsed all over Haiti with me for the book on voodoo, so she knew what it meant. Of course, she has only one answer"Чhe smiled, faintlyЧ"return to the fold. I told her that was just fighting superstition with superstition, as if holy water and a rosary could drive away a curse."
Jamie laughed aloud. "Well, if one's real, the other would have to be real, man," he said. "Maybe you ought to fight fire with fire. They'd have a heck of a time trying to curse you if you were at high mass, wouldn't they?"
Cannon said with a quiet dignity, "I'm not a religious man myself, but I respect Bess's religion too much to pretend in that sort of thing."
Jamie sobered slightly. "I suppose you're right. But I respect reason too much to withdraw the book and let a bunch of nuts scare me off. And I think you do, too, Jock. Why not take a rest? You look tired, and you've been sick, and your nerves are probably shot. Look, suppose I call up auditing tonight and have them shoot you the first advance right away, so you can afford to get away for a few days and get your nerves back in shape. Have a physical checkup; when the doctor says there's nothing wrong, you'll be ashamed of imagining things. It'll be all right, Jock; you'd never forgive me if I let a bunch of nuts scare you off!" He rose, extending his hand. "I've got to chase you off now, fella; I'm meeting Barbara for a cocktail at five. Give my love to Bess and have her call Barbara one of these daysЧwe might get together for dinner. And I'll have them get that check out to you. All right?"
Camion stood up, hovering indecisively, but Jamie's reassuring handshake and friendly words evidently made it impossibly hard for him to continue. When the door closed behind him, Jamie Melford shook his head, murmured a soft "Whew! Poor guy! Now I've heard everything" and drew the book manuscript toward him again. Smiling, he scribbled a memo to his secretary to arrange the early advance; it gave him genuine pleasure to do a favor for one of his authors, and Cannon's edgy state had moved him deeply.
Outside his office, in the hall waiting for the elevator, Jonathan Cannon pressed Ms hand to his heart, and his face twisted in pain. He drew the crumpled letter from his pocket and stared at it, then closed his eyes.
Chapter Two
Some days, Barbara Melford decided, it didn't pay to get out of bed.
This had been one of those days if there ever was one. There had been the almost-routine clash with her mother-in-law before leaving the house: the older Mrs. Melford just couldn't manage, not ever, to restrain some pointed comments about her day, when women stayed home and managed their homes. Barbara had somehow managed not to make the comment on the tip of her tongue: with Mrs. Melford around to manage, nobody else could have gotten a fingertip into the managing line. Yet it rankled. Then she'd spent the morning trying to cope with a spoiled and squalling child model who was getting a cold, and the child model's impossible mother. When she finally had the arrangement posed as she wanted it, one of the studio lights burned out and she had burned her fingers changing the bulb. In the afternoon, a sudden rain shower meant that a fashion model had arrived with damp hair that had to be dried and reset before they could go ahead. And to top everything else, she thought she was getting the curse. Damn it, she thought, as she shrugged savagely into her pea jacket, If Jamie and I weren't married, I'd have been pregnant forty times over by now. I don't careЧI'm not especially anxious to have a baby with Mother Melford hanging over my belly. But poor Jamie's going to be so damn disappointed all over again, and he'll probably start up again about going back to Dr. Clinton, and she told me, last time, that I should relax and wait another year before going through the whole routine of tests again.
The icy wind and an off-key rendition of Joy to the World by three half-frozen looking Salvation. Army workers, disspiritedly singing in front of the department, store at the end of the block, bit at her simultaneously as she emerged into the street. She fished in her pocket for. a handful of pennies and threw them into the kettle, realizing just too late that she had thrown her last subway token in with them. Oh, hell and damnation, you just couldn't fish it out in front of the poor guys. She walked on, frowning, toward the corner where she usually met Jamie after work.
He was there as usual before her, looking handsome in his thick tweed overcoat and the Astrakhan cap she had given him last birthday, and her heart warmed at the sight. One nice thing about Jamie, he never made any wisecracks about women being late; he knew what it was like in a business where you worked with temperamental people all day long and any one of them could throw you off schedule.
"Hello, darling." She fell into step beside Mm. "Nice day?"
"Good enough. Let's get out of this wind, shall we? I could use a drink. And you?"
"Coffee, thanks. I think I'm getting my period."
"Oh, hell. I'm sorry, sweetheart." To her great relief, he did not mention Dr. Clinton. They went down the steps into the restaurant, sat down, and gave their orders. Catching sight of their two forms in a mirror over the tables, she thought again how handsome Jamie was and how lucky she was to have him. God knows, plenty of prettier women had wanted him. She saw herself in the plain Navy pea jacket with short tartan skirt and high, fashionable boots, her short crisp dark hair wrapped in a tartan scarf. Barbara, who worked in the fashion world and knew glamour from the inside out, distrusted it as phony and thought of herself as nice-looking rather than beautiful.
The drink for Jamie and the coffee for Barbara arrived, and Barbara loosened her scarf and ran her fingers through her hair. "Oooh, what a day!"
"Rough?"
"Rough. I'm seriously thinking of refusing to work with children under ten. Oh, I know that's not fairЧmost of them are nice kids, but the occasionally brattish one .. = I'm thinking of dropping a word to the agency that I won't have Peggy Andrews again, or at least not with her mother around. The trouble is that she looks exactly, but exactly, like the Tenniel Alice, and that seems to be a type that makes editors and art directors go all soft and melty. It's as bad as blond little boys who look exactly like Christopher Robin."
Jamie chuckled. "You've got a whole theory of Jungian archetypes there in few words, darling. But don't tell me that wrestling with one brat got you looking so hag-ridden."
"Oh, no. It was just one damned thing after another all day, that's all, and finding out that I had the curse was just the last straw." She laughed suddenly. "Maybe someone's sticking pins in my image."
"Ouch!" Jamie winced. "Don't you start that, Barby."
"What's the matter, dear?" she asked, recognizing distress behind the flippant manner. He said, "Jock Cannon stopped in the office today," and gave her a brief report of Cannon's troubles.
"But that's awful," she said, troubled, "he's such a nice man, and Bess Cannon is so sweet. Jamie, you don't think he's in real trouble, do you?"
"Well, I don't think he's bewitched, Barbara. Use your head," Jamie said a little curtly.
Barbara said slowly, "I didn't mean that. But I read an article in the paper today about some girl who wasЧI mean, who said she wasЧa witchЕ really practicing witchcraft and all that. And then there's that Sybil Leek, who writes books about witchcraft. And all the things in Jock's booksЕ"
"Ridiculous," Jamie said, laughing. "No, I'm just afraid poor old Jock is on his way to a nervous breakdown. He's a sensitive, impressionable guy, and all those things he writes about are beginning to get him down."
"Oh, no! You mean he's imagining all these things?
I've heard of people writing anonymous letters to themselves and all thatЧЧЧ"
"No, no. I don't mean that. I mean that he's taking a goofball persecution, or a hoax, by a batch of screwballs and blowing it up out of all proportion. I don't think they could actually kill anybody with all that rot, but if poor old Jock takes it too seriously, he could wind up in Bellevue cutting out paper dolls."
"Don't!" Barbara winced.
Jamie said quickly, "Sorry! I forgotЕ"
"It's all right. Only poor JerryЕ" She bit her lip, trying not to remember her only brother. He had had a serious breakdown, and the doctors had suggested hospitalization. Jamie had been willing to pay for a period in a mental hospital, but Mrs. Melford had talked so tellingly about the terrible disgrace to the family if anyone knew that her son's wife had an insane relativeЧof course no one in their family had ever been in an insane asylum, as she persisted in calling itЧthat Jamie-had temporized, tried to talk Jerry into "snapping out of it."
Jerry had shot himself four weeks later. Barbara said now, tensely, "Look. I understand your mother's point of view. She belongs to* a previous generation and doesn't realize times have changed. She was really trying to help me escape what she honestly believed was an awful disgrace. She told me over and over that she was only thinking -of poor Jerry's future if anyone ever found out. I've forgiven her, honestlyЧI'm sure I have. But I only had one brother. And I hope to God that if Jock Cannon is cracking up, Bess Cannon can help him get into a hospital while there's time!"
"Oh, I honestly don't think it will go that far," Jamie protested. "After all, it isn't as if he'd been imagining these things. I got one of the calls, too: foulest filthy language you can imagine, threatening me with all kinds of things if I printed Jock's book. But I'm used to that sort of thing and Jock isn't. He needs to get awayЕ get some perspective."
But Barbara had gone white. She said, "Suppose they start doingЧwhatever it is they're doing to JockЧto you, too?"
He laughed softly. "Suppose they do? Let 'em do their worst, honey; it can't hurt me any more for them to curse me than it would for them to pray for me. Come onЧthis is the modem age! And I'm the one who has to read science fiction and horror stories every day!"
She drew breath and asked, "But why would they persecute him?"
Jamie shrugged. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I suppose there are some nuts in this city who practice witchcraft, or think they do, and don't like Jock making it public. Look, sweetheart, this is a hell of a depressing subject over the dinner table. Let's order a good steak, and to hell with the budget."
She smiled faintly. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."
"Just let me go and call Mother," Jamie said, sliding out of his seat. Barbara said, almost guiltily, "Do you suppose we really ought to ask her to come down and join us?"