"Dick, Philip K - Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

УWhatТs it say?Ф Leo demanded, bending rigidly forward; he could catch the girlТs dismay.
Miss Fugate whispered, УThe headlines say that Palmer Eldritch is dead.Ф She blinked, looked around her with amazement, then slowly focused on him; she regarded him with a confused mixture of fear and uncertainty, almost palpably edging back; she retreated from him, huddled against her chair, her fingers interlocked. УAnd youТre accused of having done it, Mr. Bulero. Honest; thatТs what the headline says.Ф
УYou mean IТm going to murder him?Ф
She nodded. УButЦitТs not a certainty; I only pick it up in some of the futuresЕ do you understand? I mean, we precogs seeЦФ She gestured.
УI know.Ф He was familiar with precogs; Barney Mayerson had, after all, worked for P. P. Layouts thirteen years, and some of the others even longer. УIt could happen,Ф he said gratingly. Why would I do a thing like that? he asked himself. No way to tell now. Perhaps after he reached Eldritch, talked to himЕ as evidently he would.
Miss Fugate said, УI donТt think you ought to try to contact Mr. Eldritch in view of this possible future; donТt you agree, Mr. Bulero? I mean, the risk is thereЦit hangs very large. AboutЦIТd guessЦin the neighborhood of forty.Ф
УWhatТs СfortyТ?Ф
УPercent. Almost half the possibilities.Ф Now, more composed, she smoked her cigar and faced him; her eyes, dark and intense, ffickered as she regarded him, undoubtedly speculating with vast curiosity why he would do such a thing.
Rising, he walked to the door of the office. УThank you, Miss Fugate; I appreciate your assistance in this matter.Ф He waited, indicating clearly his expectations that she would leave.
However, Miss Fugate remained seated. He was encountering the same peculiar streak of firmness that had upset Barney Mayerson. УMr. Bulero,Ф she said quietly, УI think IТd really have to go to the UN police about this. We precogsЦФ
He reshut the office door. УYou precogs,Ф he said, Уare too preoccupied with other peopleТs lives.Ф But she had him. He wondered what she would manage to do with her knowledge.
УMr. Mayerson may be drafted,Ф Miss Fugate said. УYou knew that, of course. Are you going to try to influence them to let him off?Ф
Candidly, he said, УI had some intentions in the direction of helping him beat it, yes.Ф
УMr. Bulero,Ф she said in a small, steady voice, УIТll make a deal with you. Let them draft him. And then IТll be your New York Pre-Fash consultant.Ф She waited; Leo Bulero said nothing. УWhat do you say?Ф she asked. Obviously she was unaccustomed to such negotiations. However, she intended to make it stick if possible; after all, he reflected, everyone, even the smartest operator, had to begin somewhere. Perhaps he was seeing the initial phase of what would be a brilliant career.
And then he remembered something. Remembered why she had been transferred from the Peking office to come here to New York as Barney MayersonТs assistant. Her predictions had proved erratic. Some of themЦtoo many of them, in factЦhad proved erroneous.
Perhaps her preview of the headline relating his indictment as the alleged murderer of Palmer EldritchЦassuming that she was being truthful, that she had really experienced itЦwas only another of her errors. The faulty precognition which had brought her here.
Aloud he said, УLet me think it over. Give me a couple of days.Ф
УUntil tomorrow morning,Ф Miss Fugate said firmly.
Leo laughed. УI see why Barney was so riled up.Ф And Barney probably sensed with his own precog faculty, at least nebulously, that Miss Fugate was going to make a decisive strike at him, jeopardizing his whole position. УListen.Ф He walked over to her. УYouТre MayersonТs mistress. HowТd you like to give that up? I can offer you the use of an entire satellite.Ф Assuming, of course, that he could pry Scotty out of there.
УNo thank you,Ф Miss Fugate said.
УWhy?Ф He was amazed. УYour careerЦФ
УI like Mr. Mayerson,Ф she said. УAnd I donТt particularly care for bubЦФ She caught herself. УMen whoТve evolved in those clinics.Ф
Again he opened the office door. УIТll let you know by tomorrow morning.Ф As he watched her pass through the doorway and out into the receptionistТs office he thought, ThatТll give me time to reach Ganymede and Palmer Eldritch; IТll know more, then. Know if your foresight seems spurious or not.
Shutting the door behind the girl, he turned at once to his desk, and clicked the vidphone button connecting him with the outside. To the New York City operator he said, УGet me the James Riddle VeteransТ Hospital at Base III on Ganymede; I want to speak to a Mr. Eldon Trent, a patient there. Person to person.Ф He gave his name and number, then rang off, jiggled the hook, and dialed Kennedy Spaceport.
He booked passage for the express ship leaving New York for Ganymede that evening, then paced about his office, waiting for the call-back from James Riddle VeteransТ Hospital.
Bubblehead, he thought. SheТd call even her employer that.
Ten minutes later the call came.
УIТm sorry, Mr. Bulero,Ф the operator apologized. УMr. Trent is not receiving calls, by doctorsТ orders.Ф
So Rondinella Fugate was right; an Eldon Trent did exist at James Riddle and in all probability he was Palmer Eldritch. It was certainly worth making the trip; the odds looked good.
Looked good, he thought wryly, that IТll encounter Eldritch, have some kind of altercation with him, God knows what, and eventually bring about his death. A man that at this point in time I donТt even know. And IТll find myself arraigned; I wonТt get away with it. What a prospect.
But his curiosity was aroused. In all his manifold operations he had never found the need of killing anyone under any circumstances. Whatever it was that would occur between him and Palmer Eldritch had to be unique; definitely a trip to Ganymede was indicated.
It would be difficult to turn back now. Because he had the acute intuition that this would turn out to be what he hoped. And Rondinella Fugate had only said that he would be accused of the murder; there was no datum as to a successful conviction.
Convicting a man of his stature of a capital crime, even through the UN authorities, would take some doing.
He was willing to let them try.




THREE

In a bar hard by P. P. Layouts, Richard Hnatt sat sipping a Tequila Sour, his display case on the table before him. He knew goddam well there was nothing wrong with EmilyТs pots; her work was saleable. The problem had to do with her ex-husband and his position of power.
And Barney Mayerson had exercised that power.
I have to call Emily and tell her, Hnatt said to himself. He started to his feet.
A man blocked his way, a peculiar round specimen mounted on spindly legs.
УWho are you?Ф Hnatt said.
The man bobbed toy-like in front of him, meanwhile digging into his pocket as if scratching at a familiar microorganism that possessed parasitic proclivities that had survived the test of time. However, what he produced at last was a business card. УWeТre interested in your ceramic ware, Mr. Hatt. Natt. However you say it.Ф
УIcholtz,Ф Hnatt said, reading the card; it gave only the name, no further info, not even a vidnumber. УBut what I have with me are just samples. IТll give you the names of retail outlets stocking our line. But theseЦФ
УAre for minning,Ф the toylike man, Mr. Icholtz, said, nodding. УAnd thatТs what we want. We intend to min your ceramics, Mr. Hnatt; we believe that Mayerson is wrongЦthey will become fash, and very soon.Ф
Hnatt stared at him. УYou want to min, and youТre not from P. P. Layouts?Ф But no one else minned. Everyone knew P. P. Layouts had a monopoly.
Seating himself at the table beside the display case, Mr. Icholtz brought out his wallet and began counting out skins. УVery little publicity will be attached to this at first. But eventuallyЦФ He offered Hnatt the stack of brown, wrinkled, truffle-skins which served as tender in the Sol system: the only molecule, a unique protein amino acid, which could not be duplicated by the Printers, the Biltong life forms employed in place of automated assembly lines by many of TerraТs industries.