"Gordon R. Dickson - Dolphin's Way" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

Define intelligence . . . without defining yourself.


DOLPHIN'S WAY

Of course, there was no reason why a woman coming to Dolphin's Way тАУ
as the late Dr. Edwin Knight had named the island research station тАУ should
not be beautiful. But Mal had never expected such a thing to happen.
Castor and Pollux had not come to the station pool this morning. They
might have left the station, as other wild dolphins had in the past тАУ and Mal
nowadays carried always with him the fear that the Willernie Foundation
would seize on some excuse to cut off their funds for further research. Ever
since Corwin Brayt had taken over, Mal had known this fear. Though Brayt
had said nothing. It was only a feeling Mal got from the presence of the tall,
cold man. So it was that Mal was out in front of the station, scanning the
ocean when the water-taxi from the mainland brought the visitor.
She stepped out on the dock, as he stared down at her. She waved as if
she knew him, and then climbed the stairs from the dock to the terrace in
front of the door to the main building of the station.
"Hello," she said, smiling as she stopped in front of him. "You're Corwin
Brayt?"
Mal was suddenly sharply conscious of his own lean and ordinary
appearance in contrast to her startling beauty. She was brown-haired and
tall for a girl тАУ but these things did not describe her. There was a perfection
to her тАУ and her smile stirred him strangely.
"No," he said. "I'm Malcolm Sinclair. Corwin's inside."
"I'm Jane Wilson," she said. "Background Monthly sent me out to do a
story on the dolphins. Do you work with them?"
"Yes," Mal said. "I started with Dr. Knight in the beginning."
"Oh, good," she said. "Then, you can tell me some things. You were here
when Dr. Brayt took charge after Dr. Knight's death?"
"Mr. Brayt," he corrected automatically. "Yes." The emotion she moved in
him was so deep and strong it seemed she must feel it too. But she gave
no sign.
"Mr. Brayt?" she echoed. "Oh. How did the staff take to him?"
"Well," said Mal, wishing she would smile again, "everyone took to him."
"I see," she said. "He's a good research head?"
"A good administrator," said Mal. "He's not involved in the research end."
"He's not?" She stared at him. "But didn't he replace Dr. Knight, after Dr.
Knight's death?"
 "Why, yes," said Mal. He made an effort to bring his attention back to the
conversation. He had never had a woman affect him like this before. "But
just as administrator of the station, here. You see тАУ most of our funds for
work here come from the Willernie Foundation. They had faith in Dr. Knight,
but when he died . . . well, they wanted someone of their own in charge.
None of us mind."
"Willernie Foundation," she said. "I don't know it."
"It was set up by a man named Willernie, in St. Louis, Missouri," said Mal.
"He made his money manufacturing kitchen utensils. When he died he left a
trust and set up the Foundation to encourage basic research." Mal smiled.