"Arthur C Clarke - Cradle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clarke Arthur C)

Julianne gave her instructions. УWalk out that door over there, at the far right, and walk straight until you come to Jetty Number 4. Then turn left and insert this card in the gate lock. Slip УPФ as in Peter is where the Ambrosia is berthed. ItТs a long walk, way down at the end of the jetty. But you canТt miss the yacht, itТs one of the largest and most beautiful boats at Hemingway.Ф

Julianne was right. It was quite a hike to the end of Jetty Number 4. Carol Dawson probably passed a total of thirty boats of all sizes, on both sides of the jetty, before she reached the Ambrosia. By the time Carol could discern the bold blue identifying letters on the front of the cabin, she had started to sweat from the heat and humidity of late morning.
Captain Homer Ashford walked up the gangplank to meet her when she finally reached the Ambrosia. He was in his mid to late fifties, an enormous man, well over six feet tall and weighing close to two hundred and fifty pounds. His hair was still thick, but the original black color had now almost completely surrendered to the gray.
Captain HomerТs wild eyes had followed CarolТs approach with undisguised lubricious delight. Carol recognized the look and her reaction was one of immediate disgust. She started to turn around and go back to the marina headquarters. But she stopped herself, realizing that it was a long walk back and that she was already hot and tired. Captain Homer, apparently sensing her disapproval by the change in her gait, changed his leer to an avuncular smile.
УMiss Dawson, I presume?Ф the captain said, bowing slightly with fake gallantry. УWelcome to the Ambrosia. Captain Homer Ashford and his crew at your service. УCarol reluctantly smiled. This buffoon in the outrageous blue Hawaiian shirt at least did not appear to take himself too seriously. Still slightly wary, she took the proffered Coke from his out-stretched hand and followed him along the smaller side jetty beside the boat. The two of them then descended onto the yacht. It was huge.
УWe understand from Julianne that you are interested in a charter for this afternoon. We would love to take you out to one of our favorite spots, Dolphin Key.Ф They were standing in front of the wheelhouse and the covered cabin area as they talked. Captain Homer was clearly already into his sales pitch. From somewhere nearby Carol could hear the clang of metal. It sounded like barbells.
УDolphin Key is a marvelous isolated island,Ф Captain Homer continued, Уperfect for swimming and even nude sunbathing, if you like that sort of thing. ThereТs also a sunken wreck from the eighteenth century not more than a couple of miles away if youТre interested in doing some diving.Ф Carol took another drink from her Coke and looked at Homer for an instant. She quickly averted her eyes. He was leering again. His peculiar emphasis on the word УnudeФ had somehow changed CarolТs mental picture of Dolphin Key from a quiet tropical paradise to a gathering place for debauchery and peeping Toms. Carol recoiled from Captain HomerТs light touch as he guided her around the side of the yacht. This man is a creep, she thought. I should have followed my first instincts and turned around.
The clang of metal grew louder as they walked past the entrance to the cabin and approached the front of the luxurious boat. CarolТs journalistic curiosity was piqued; the sound seemed so out of place. She hardly paid attention as Captain Homer pointed out all the outstanding features of the yacht. When they finally had a clear view of the front deck of the Ambrosia, Carol saw that the sound had indeed been barbells. A blonde woman with her back toward them was working out with weights on the front deck.
The womanТs body was magnificent, even breathtaking. As she strained to finish her repetitive presses, she lifted the barbells high over her head Rivulets of sweat cascaded down the muscles that seemed to descend in ripples from her shoulders. She was wearing a low-cut black leotard, almost backless, whose thin straps did not seem capable of holding up the rest of the outfit. Captain Homer had stopped talking about the boat. Carol noticed that he was standing in rapt admiration, apparently transfixed by the sensual beauty of the sweaty woman in the leotard. This place is weird, Carol thought. Maybe thatТs why the girl asked me if I knew these people.
The woman put the weights back on the small rack and picked up a towel When she turned around Carol could see that she was in her mid to late thirties, pretty in an athletic sort of way . Her breasts were large and taut and clearly visible in the scant leotard. But it was her eyes that were truly remarkable. They were gray-blue in color and they seemed to look right through you. Carol thought that the womanТs first piercing glance was hostile, almost threatening.
УGreta,Ф said Captain Homer, when she looked at him after her first glance at Carol, Уthis is Miss Carol Dawson. She may be our charter for this afternoon.Ф
Greta did not smile or say anything. She wiped the sweat off her brow, took a couple of deep breaths, and put the towel behind her neck and over her shoulders. She squared herself off to face Carol and Captain Homer. Then with her shoulders back and her hands on her hips, she flexed her chest muscles. With each flexure her abundant breasts seemed to stretch up toward her neck. Throughout this routine her incredibly clear eyes evaluated Carol, checking out her body and clothing in minute detail. Carol squirmed involuntarily.
УWell, hello, Greta,Ф she said, her usual aplomb strangely absent in this awkward moment, Уnice to meet you.Ф Jesus, Carol thought, as Greta just looked at CarolТs outstretched hand for several seconds, let me out of here. I must be on a strange planet or having a nightmare.
УGreta sometimes likes to have fun with our customers,Ф Captain Homer said to Carol, Уbut donТt let it put you off.Ф Was he irritated with Greta? Carol thought she detected some unspoken communication between Greta and Captain Homer, for at length Greta smiled. But it was an artificial smile.
УVelcome to the Ambrosia,Ф Greta said, mimicking Captain HomerТs first remarks to Carol. УOur pleasure avaits you.Ф Greta lifted her arms over her head, watching Carol again, and began to stretch. УCome vit us to paradise,Ф Greta said.
Carol felt Captain HomerТs burly hand on her elbow, turning her around. She also thought she saw an angry glance from Homer to Greta. УThe Ambrosia is the finest charter vessel in Key West,Ф he said, guiding her back toward the stem and resuming his sales pitch. УIt has every possible convenience and luxury. Giant screen cable television, compact disc player with quad speakers, automatic chef programmed with over a hundred gourmet dishes, robot massage. And nobody knows the Keys like Captain Homer. IТve been diving and fishing these waters for fifty years.Ф
They had stopped at the entrance to the cabin area in the middle of the yacht. Through the glass door Carol could see stairs descending to another level. УWould you like to come down and see the galley and the bedroom?Ф Captain Homer said, without a trace of the earlier suggestiveness. He was a clever chameleon, there was no doubt about that. Carol revised her earlier judgment of him as a buffoon. But what was this business with muscle-bound Greta, whoever she is, Carol wondered. And just what is going on here? Why are they so strange?
УNo, thank you, Captain Ashford.Ф Carol saw her opportunity to exit gracefully. She handed him what was left of the unfinished Coke. УIТve seen enough. ItТs a magnificent yacht but I can tell itТs much too expensive for a single woman wanting to spend a relaxing afternoon. But thanks a lot for your time and the brief tour.Ф
She started to walk toward the gangplank to the jetty. Captain HomerТs eyes narrowed, УBut we havenТt even discussed price, Miss Dawson. IТm certain that for someone like you we could make a special deal . . .Ф
Carol could tell that he was not going to let her go without some additional discussion. As she started to leave the yacht, Greta came up beside Captain Homer. УIt vould give you sometink to write about for your paper,Ф Greta said with a bizarre smile. УSometink unusual.Ф
Carol turned, startled. УSo you recognized me?Ф she said, stating the obvious. The strange pair grinned back at her. УWhy didnТt you say something?Ф
Captain Homer simply shrugged his huge shoulders. УWe thought maybe you were traveling incognito, or were looking for some special fun, or maybe even were working on a story . . .Ф His voice trailed off Carol smiled and shook her head. Then she waved good-bye, mounted the gangplank, and turned on the jetty toward the distant marina headquarters. Who are those people? she asked herself again. Now IТm certain that I have seen them before. But where?

* * * * *

Twice Carol looked over her shoulder to see if Captain Homer and Greta were still watching her. The second time, when she was almost a hundred yards away, they were no longer in sight. She sighed with relief. The experience had definitely unnerved her.
Carol walked on slowly. She pulled the computer listing that Julianne had given her from a small purple beach bag. Before she could look at it, she heard a telephone ring on her left and her eyes lifted naturally to follow the sound. The telephone was ringing on a boat just in front of her. A husky man in his early thirties was sitting in a folding chair on the same boat. Wearing only a red baseball cap, a pair of swim trunks, dark sunglasses and some thongs, the man was intently watching a small television propped up on a flimsy tray of some kind. He held a sandwich in one hand (Carol could see the white mayonnaise oozing out between the slices of bread even from her distance of ten yards or so) and a can of beer in the other. There was no sign that the man in the red cap even heard the telephone.
Carol moved closer, a little curious. A basketball game was in progress on the television. On about the sixth ring of the phone, the man gave a small cheer (with his mouth full of sandwich) in the direction of the six-inch picture tube, took a swig from his beer, and abruptly jumped up to answer the call. The telephone was underneath a canopy in the center of the boat, on a wooden paneled wall behind the steering wheel and next to some built-in counters that appeared to contain the navigation and radio equipment for the boat. The man fiddled with the steering wheel unconsciously during the brief conversation and never took his eyes off the television. He hung up, issued another short cheer, and returned to his folding chair.
Carol was now standing on the jetty, just inches away from the front of the boat and no more than ten feet away from where the man was sitting. But he was oblivious to her, totally absorbed in his basketball game. УAll right,Ф he shouted all at once, reacting to something pleasing in the game. He jumped up. The sudden movement caused the boat to rock and the jerrybuilt tray underneath the television gave way. The man reached out quickly and grabbed the TV before it hit the ground, but in so doing he lost his balance and fell forward on his elbows.
УShit,Ф he said to himself, wincing from the pain. He was lying on the deck, his sunglasses cocked sideways on his head, the game still continuing on the little set in his hands. Carol could not suppress her laughter. Now aware that he was not alone for the first time, Nick Williams, the owner and operator of the Florida Queen, turned in the direction of the feminine laugh.
УExcuse me,Ф Carol began in a friendly way, УI just happened to be walking by and I saw you fall . . .Ф She stopped. Nick was not amused.
УWhat do you want?Ф Nick fixed her with a truculent glare. He stood up, still holding (and watching) the television and now trying as well to put the tray back together. He didnТt have enough hands to do everything at once.
УYou know,Ф Carol said, still smiling, УI could help you with that, if it wouldnТt injure your masculine pride.Ф Uh oh, Nick thought in a flash, Another pushy, assertive broad.
Nick put the television down on the deck of the boat and began to reassemble the tray. УNo thank you,Ф he said. УI can manage.Ф Obviously ignoring Carol, he set the TV back on the tray, returned to his folding chair, and picked up his sandwich and beer.
Carol was amused by what Nick had clearly intended as a putdown. She looked around the boat. Neatness was not one of the strengths of the proprietor. Little odds and ends, including masks, snorkels, regulators, towels, and even old lunches from fast-food restaurants were scattered all over the front of the boat. In one of the corners someone had obviously taken apart a piece of electronic equipment, perhaps for repair, and left the entire works a jumbled mess. Mounted on the top of the blue canopy were two signs, each with a different type of print, one giving the name of the boat and the other saying THANK YOU FOR NOT SMOKING.
The boat looked out of character for the sleek modern marina and Carol imagined the other boat owners reacting with disgust each day as they passed the Florida Queen. On an impulse Carol looked at the computer listing in her hand. She almost laughed out loud when she saw the boat listing as one of the nine available for hire.
УExcuse me,Ф she began, intending to start the discussion about chartering the boat for the afternoon.
Nick heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned away from his televised basketball game. The miffed look on his face was unmistakable. It said, What? Are you still here? I thought weТd finished our conversation. Now go away and let me enjoy the afternoon on my boat.
Mischievous Carol couldnТt resist the opportunity to harass the arrogant Mr. Williams (she assumed that the name on the computer listing and the man in front of her were the same, for she couldnТt imagine a crew member acting with such apparent confidence and authority on someone elseТs boat). УWhoТs playing?Ф she said cheerfully, as if she had no idea that Nick was trying to get rid of her.
УHarvard and Tennessee,Ф he answered gruffly, amazed that Carol hadnТt got the message.
УWhatТs the score?Ф she said quickly, now enjoying the game she had just created.
Nick turned around again, his quizzical look acknowledging his exasperation. УItТs 31-29 Harvard,Ф he said sharply, Уjust before the end of the first half.Ф Carol didnТt move. She simply smiled and returned his fierce stare without blinking. УAnd itТs the first round of the NCAA tournament and theyТre playing in the Southeast Regional. Any more questions?Ф
УJust one,Ф she said. УI would like to charter this boat for the afternoon. Are you Nick Williams?Ф
He was taken by surprise. УWhaat?Ф Nick said. At that minute Tennessee tied the basketball game again, distracting Nick even further. He watched the game for a couple of seconds and then tried to collect himself. УBut I have had no calls from Julianne. Anyone who wants to charter a boat here at Hemingway has to sign in at the desk and . . .Ф
УI came down to look at another boat first. I didnТt like it. So I stopped by here on the way back.Ф Nick was watching the television again and Carol was losing her patience with him. At first he had been amusing. At least I donТt have to worry about his pawing me, she thought. The guy canТt even concentrate on me enough to get his boat chartered. УLook,Ф she added, Уdo you want a charter for this afternoon or not?
The first half of the basketball game ended. УAll right . . . I guess so,Ф Nick said slowly, thinking to himself, only because I need the money. He gestured to Carol to descend onto the deck of the boat. УLet me just call Julianne and make sure youТre legit. You never know these days.Ф
While Nick confirmed CarolТs identification with the marina headquarters, a jaunty young black man in his early twenties came down the jetty and stopped just opposite the Florida Queen. УHey, Professor,Ф he said, the moment Nick was off the phone, Уam I in the wrong place?Ф He motioned to Carol. УYou didnТt tell me you were entertaining beauty, style, and class today. Wooee! Look at that jewelry. And that silk blouse. Should I go now and come back to hear your stories later?Ф He winked at Carol. УHeТs no good, angel. All his girlfriends eventually end up with me.Ф
УCut the crap, Jefferson,Ф Nick reacted, Уthis woman is a potential customer. And youТre late, as usual. How do you expect me to run a charter dive boat when I donТt have any idea when or if my crew is going to show up?Ф
УProfessor,Ф the newcomer jumped down on the boat and walked up to Carol, Уif I had known that you had something that looked like this down here, I would have been here before dawn. Hello, there, young lady, my name is Troy Jefferson. I am the rest of the crew on this lunatic asylum of a boat.Ф