"Dick, Philip K - Vulcan's Hammer v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)"Mr. Dill is in conference. He can't be disturbed."
Barris killed the screen with a savage swipe. For a moment he stood thinking. There was no doubt of it; Jason Dill was stalling. I can't go on like this any further, Barris thought. I'll never get any answers out of Geneva this way. What is Dill up to, for God's sake? Why is Dill refusing to co-operate with his own Directors? Over a year, and no statement from Vulcan 3 on the Healers. Or had there been, and Dill hadn't released it? With a surge of disbelief, he thought, Can Dill be keeping back information from the computer? Not letting it know what's going on? Can it be that Vulcan 3 does not know about the Healers at all? That simply did not seem credible. What ceaseless mass effort that would take on Dill's part; billions of data were fed to Vulcan 3 in one week alone; surely it would be next to impossible to keep all mention of the Movement from the great machine. And if any datum got in at all, the computer would react; it would note the datum, compare it with all other data, record the incongruity. And, Barris thought, if Dill is concealing the existence of the Movement from Vulcan 3, what would be his motive? What would he gain by deliberately depriving himself- and Unity in general-of the computer's appraisal of the situation? But that has been the situation for fifteen months, Barris realized. Nothing has been handed down to us from Vulcan 3, and either the machine has said nothing, or, if it has, Dill hasn't released it. So for all intents and purposes, the computer has not spoken. What a basic flaw in the Unity structure, he thought bitterly. Only the one man is in a position to deal with the computer, so that one man can cut us off completely; he can sever the world from Vulcan 3. Like some high priest who stands between man and god, Barris mused. It's obviously wrong. But what can we do? What can I do? I may be supreme authority in this region, but Dill is still my superior; he can remove me any time he wants. True it would be a complex and difficult procedure to remove a Director against his will, but it has been done several times. And if I go and accuse him of- Of what? He's doing something, Barris realized, but there's no way I can make out what it is. Not only do I have no facts, but I can't even see my way clearly enough to phrase an accusation. After all, I did fill out the DQ form improperly; that's a fact. And if Dill wants to say that Vulcan 3 simply has said nothing about the Healers, no one can contradict him because no one else has access to the machine. We have to take his word. Barris thought, But I've had enough of taking his word. Fifteen months is long enough; the time has come to take action. Even if it means my forced resignation. Which it probably will mean, and right away. A job, Barris decided, isn't that important. You have to be able to trust the organization you're a part of; you have to believe in your superiors. If you think they're up to something, you have to get up from your chair and do something, even if it's nothing more than to confront them face-to-face and demand an explanation. Reaching out his hand, he relit the vidscreen. "Give me the field. And hurry it up." After a moment the field-tower monitor appeared. "Yes, sir?" "This is Barris. Have a first-class ship ready at once. I'm taking off right away." "Where to, sir?" "To Geneva," Barris set his jaw grimly. "I have an appointment with Managing Director Dill." He added under his breath, "Whether Dill likes it or not." As the ship carried him at high velocity toward Geneva, Barris considered his plans carefully. What they'll say, he decided, is that I'm using this as a pretext to embarrass Jason Dill. That I'm not sincere; that in fact I'm using the silence of Vulcan 3 as a device to make a bid for Jason Dill's job. My coming to Geneva will just go to prove how ruthlessly ambitious I am. And I won't be able to disprove the change; I have no way by which I can prove that my motives are pure. This time the chronic doubt did not assail him; he knew that he was acting for the good of the organization. I know my own mind this time, he realized. In this case I can trust myself. I'll just have to stand firm, he told himself. If I keep denying that I'm trying to undercut Dill for personal advantage- At the thought of the Atlanta psychologists, he felt cold perspiration stand out on his throat and forehead. Only once had he been up against them, and that was the third year of his employment with Unity. Some unbalanced clerk in his department-at that time he had managed a small rural branch of Unity-had been caught stealing Unity property and reselling it on the black market. Unity of course had a monopoly on advanced technological equipment, and certain items were excessively valuable. It was a constant temptation, and this particular clerk had been in charge of inventories; the temptation had been coupled with opportunity, and the two together had been too much. The secret police had caught up with the man almost at once, had arrested him and gained the usual confession. To get himself in good, or what he imagined to be in good, the man had implicated several others in the branch office, including William Barris. And so a warrant had been served on him, and he had been hauled down in the middle of the night for an "interview." There was no particular onus connected with being served with a police warrant; virtually every citizen became involved with the police at one time or another in his life. The incident had not hurt Barris' career; he had very quickly been released, and he had gone on at his job, and no one had brought the matter up when time came for his advancement to a high position. But for half an hour at police headquarters he had been worked over by two psychologists, and the memory was still with him to wake him up late at night-a bad dream but unfortunately one that might recur in reality at any time. If he were to step out of line even now, in his position as North American Director with supreme authority over the area north of the Mason-Dixon Line . . . And, as he was carried closer and closer to Unity Control at Geneva, he was decidedly sticking his neck out. I should mind my own business, he told himself. That is a rule we all learn, if we expect to get up the ladder or even keep out of jail. But this is my business! Not much later a recorded voice said pleasantly, "We are about to land, Mr. Barris." Geneva lay below. The ship was descending, pulled down by the automatic relays that had guided it from his field, across the Atlantic and over Western Europe. Barris thought, Probably they already know I'm on my way. Some flunky, some minor informant, has relayed the information. Undoubtedly some petty clerk in my own building is a spy for Unity Control. And now, as he rose from his chair and moved toward the exit, someone else was no doubt waiting at the Geneva terminal, watching to mark his arrival. I'll be followed the entire time, he decided. At the exit he hesitated. I can turn around and go back, he said to himself. I can pretend I never started this trip, and probably no one will ever bring it up; they will know I started to come here, got as far as the field, but they won't know why. They'll never be able to establish that I intended to confront my superior, Jason Dill. He hesitated, and then he touched the stud that opened the door. It swung aside, and bright midday sunlight spilled into the small ship. Barris filled his lungs with fresh air, paused, and then descended the ramp to the field. As he walked across the open space toward the terminal building, a shape standing by the fence detached itself. There's one, he realized. Watching for me. The shape moved slowly toward him. It was a figure in a long blue coat. A woman, her hair up in a bandanna, her hands in her coat pockets. He did not recognize her. Sharp, pale features. Such intense eyes, he thought. Staring at him. She did not speak or show any expression until the two of them were separated by only a few feet. And then her colorless lips moved. "Don't you remember me, Mr. Barris?" he said in a hollow voice. She fell in beside him and walked along with him, toward the terminal building. "I'd like to talk to you. I think it'll be worth your while." He said, "Rachel Pitt." Glancing at him, Rachel said, "I have something to sell. A piece of news that could determine your future." Her voice was hard and thin, as brittle as glass. "But I have to have something back; I need something in exchange." "I don't want to do any business with you," he said. "I didn't come here to see you." "I know," she said. "I tried to get hold of you at your office; they stalled me every time. I knew right away that you had given orders to that effect." Barris said nothing. This is really bad, he thought. That this demented woman should manage to locate me, here, at this time. "You're not interested," Rachel said, "and I know why not; all you can think of is how successfully you're going to deal with Jason Dill. But you see, you won't be able to deal with him at all." "Why not?" he said, trying to keep any emotions he might be feeling out of his voice. Rachel said, "I've been under arrest for a couple of days, now. They had me picked up and brought here." "I wondered what you were doing here," he said. "A loyal Unity wife," she said. "Devoted to the organization. Whose husband was killed only a few-" She broke off. "But you don't care about that, either." At the fence she halted, facing him. "You can either go directly to the Unity Control Building, or you can take half an hour and spend it with me. I advise the latter. If you decide to go on and see Dill now, without hearing me out . . ." She shrugged. "I can't stop you. Go ahead." Her black eyes glowed unwinkingly as she waited. |
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