"Phyllis Eisenstein - No Refunds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisenstein Phyllis)

He eased forward in his chair. тАЬSomeone I know won the lottery. Not the big
prize, but a good one. Good enough to get him off the street. You gave him the
number, two months ago. His name was Charlie.тАЭ
She thought back for a moment. A tall man, sallow with incipient jaundice,
jobless, and without prospects. He had been living on gin, in a cardboard box, for
quite some time before he found her. тАЬI remember Charlie.тАЭ
тАЬHe said he traded you six months for it.тАЭ
She nodded.
 тАЬHe got twenty thousand dollars.тАЭ
тАЬTwenty-one thousand six hundred dollars, precisely.тАЭ
тАЬAnd heтАЩll live six months less than he would have if he hadnтАЩt come to you?тАЭ
She let her fingers interlace on the crystal ball. тАЬItтАЩs a little more complicated
than that. If he stops drinking and starts taking proper care of himself, he could live
quite a long time. Perhaps even the span he would have lived if he had never started
drinking. Less the six months he traded to me. If he stays on the booze, his liver will
kill him six months sooner than it would have if heтАЩd never come to me. So this life
span depends on his own behavior.тАЭ
тАЬBut you get that six months.тАЭ
тАЬYes.тАЭ
StevenтАЩs knobby throat bobbed as he swallowed. тАЬIs that your standing
offer? Twenty grand for six months?тАЭ
тАЬThere are many offers, Steven,тАЭ she said.
тАЬTell me about them.тАЭ
тАЬThe basic rate is five dollars an hour. The number of hours involved is up to
the client. For a day, a hundred and twenty dollars; for a year, forty-three thousand
eight hundred; for twenty years, eight hundred and seventy-six thousand.тАЭ
He was staring at her. тАЬHas anyone ever given you twenty years?тАЭ
тАЬYou might be surprised, Steven,тАЭ she said, thinking of one evening in the
high-rise office, and a man who wanted to be rich more than he wanted to have an
old age.
тАЬAnd how much will you give me?тАЭ Steven asked.
She looked down into the crystal ball, as if there were something inside to see,
but there was only glass, and the familiar effects of reflection and refraction. The
surface was pitted and scratched from years of being knocked about, moved from
city to city, country to country. Several times, she had dropped it, but it hadnтАЩt
smashed. Good quality glass, but still only glass. The answer to StevenтАЩs question
was inside Steven, waiting to be found.
The future was always harder to know than the present or the past. It was a
changeable thing, and she herself had changed it for many a client, simply by giving
away money via lotteries, racetracks, casinos, and the stock market. Catherine took
almost a full minute to find StevenтАЩs future.
тАЬHow much?тАЭ he repeated.
 She looked up into his eyes. The whites were yellowing, the rims reddened
and watery. She knew the doctors had asked him to stay in the hospital. But he had
limped his way out and come to her. тАЬSteven,тАЭ she said quietly, тАЬI canтАЩt give you
anything.тАЭ
He straightened slowly in the chair.
тАЬNot anything,тАЭ she said.
He opened his mouth, but for a moment no sound emerged, then in a
strangled voice he said, тАЬAre you telling me that I donтАЩt have any time left?тАЭ He