"Avram Davidson - No Fire Burns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Avram)

Joe wiped his dripping mouth. "Yeah. Ordered 'em two weeks ago and they finally came couple a days
ago," he said. "Beautiful stuff. Come on down and have a look some Sundy."

The man with the wart between his eyes said, thanks, he might do that. "What was Aberdeen doing over
at your machine just now?" he asked. "He look like he was gonna bust out crying."

Joe frowned. "Who? Oh, Aberdeen. Aah, I dunno what he wanted." He nodded, moved off. In the
corner of his mind was a faint recollection of what Aberdeen wanted, but it was too much trouble to
remember. Hell with 'm.



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"Did you read in the papers, last month," Mr. Melchior asked, over the fresh fruit cup, "about a fellow
who worked for Atlantic Coast CanningтАФ"

Dr. Colles said that he believed he did. "Shot the foreman andтАФ"

"Not the foreman, no, but that's the case. They were both in line to become foreman, but only one could
get the job, so this man, Grubacher, he invited KellyтАФthat was his competitorтАФto take a ride back from
work in his car; then he killed him. Might've gotten away with it, too, only they traced the gun."

Atlantic Coast Canning, it seemed, was an affiliate of Melchior Enterprises, and the incident had
disturbed Mr. Melchior a good deal. Dr. Colles was a psychologist; did he understand what would make
a man, who had seemed perfectly normalтАФa good employeeтАФa good husbandтАФdo something like
that? There had to be something wrong with him, didn't there? ("Obviously," said Dr. C.) Well, they
didn't want a repetition of the Grubacher case. They wanted Dr. Colles to help them weed out people
like that beforehand.

The psychologist smiled. Society as a whole, and not just Mr. Melchior, he pointed out, would be glad to
find a way to do that. But his host waved his hand and shook his head, respectfully impatient.

"No, no, Doctor. Don't be modest," he said. "These tests which you and Mr. Taylor are going to set up
for our personnel departmentтАФyou said before that what's wrong with our society is 'lack of
communication,' yes? Well, these tests communicate, don't they? They help weed out all kinds of unfit
people, don't they? But they don't go far enough! A man who thinks he hears voices and tells people
that spies from outer space are after him, well, you can tell right away there's something wrong with him,
and we tell him that we'll keep his name on file; don't call us, we'll call you тАж"

But Grubacher hadn't been that type. He didn't have hallucinations, he didn't mutter. In no way, either
from his work record or his family life or from his friends, could the ordinary lay person have foreseen
that he would kill a man in cold blood. When he was caught and his alibi broken down andтАФconfronted
with the ballistics test resultsтАФhe confessed, he was asked (oh, most vain of all questions!) if he wasn't
sorry. Grubacher seemed a little surprised. He was sorry he was caught, sure. But for the act itself? A
bit surprised, answering what he obviously considered a foolish question, the killer said, no тАж what was
there to be sorry about? It was the only thing to do: Kelly stood in his way.