"Paul Di Filippo - Weeping Walls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Di Filippo Paul)

is this what I pullтАФ?" A blast of rifle fire filled the neighborhood's air, and
simultaneously replicated in miniature by the communicator's speaker. From his perc
command atop the flat roof of a ten-story office building Danny could see small fig
struggling to control the bulky weapon At last the automatic rifle ceased firing.
"DanтАФI mean, Deconstructor?"
Danny sighed deeply. "Deconstructor to Zapmama. Go ahead."
"My gun works fine."
"Acquire target and await the signal. Over."
Reslinging his walkie-talkie, Danny walked over to the cameraman sharing the roof
him.
 "Can we edit out those early shots?"
"No problem, chief."
A bank of jury-rigged monitors showed not only this camera's perspective, but also
views from other cameras emplaced on the ground. All the lenses were focused
waddling bus, which bore on its side the legend JERUSALEM TOURS. The bus was no
into a broad intersection full of traffic and pedestrians. Suddenly, the cars in front and bac
the bus seemed to explode. Curiously, no deadly jagged debris flew, nor did any shock w
propagate. Only melodramatic plumes of smoke poured from the gimmicked vehicles.
The explosion brought the hidden attackers out. Dressed in bur-nooses and ra
desert-camouflage gear, the very picture of martyr-mad Arabs, they opened fire on the trap
bus. Window glass shattered into a crystal rain, holes pinged open in the bus's chassis, and
passengers slumped in contorted postures. One of the terrorists threw a grenade, and the
rocked like a low-rider's jalopy. Blood began to waterfall out the door.
The assault lasted only ninety seconds, but seemed to go on forever. Mesmerized, D
nearly forgot his own role. He fumbled with his walkie-talkie and yelled, "Cut! Cut!"
The shooting immediately ceased. Danny hastened down to the street.
A line of ambulances had materialized, directed by a few bored cops. The bus
opened, and the nonchalant driver jumped awkwardly out, anxious to avoid spotting his s
with the synthetic blood in the stairwell. The medicos entered the damaged busтАФseen
close, a twenty-year-old antique obviously rescued from the scrap-heap and repaintedтАФ
began to emerge with the victims on sarcophagus-shaped carry-boards.
None of the dead people exhibited any wounds. Mostly elderly, with a smattering of y
adults and even a teenager or two, they all appeared to have passed away peacefully. Man
them had final smiles clinging to their lifeless faces. As the victims were loaded onto the
bulances, the bystanders to the attack watched and commented with mournful pride
"Uncle Albert went out just the way he imagined."
"I thought Aunt Ruth would flinch, but she never did."
"I saw Harold wave just before the end!"
Danny crunched across the pebbles of safety glass to where the elated mock-terro
clumped. Spotting him, they shouted and hooted and applauded their director. Congratula
were exchanged all around.
"Did those charges go off okay, Danny?" asked an earnest techie.
"Just fine."
"I triggered the squibs a little late," confessed another.
"Next time will be perfect, I'm sure."
Stretching her terrorist's shirt to undemocratic proportions, a gloomy C
approached. "I'm awfully sorry about that screwup earlier, Danny. Even though they were
blanks, I could have frightened the bus away!"
Danny regarded Carol silently while he tried to parse her logic. "You do know all this
fake, don't you, Carol?"