"Fontana,.D.C.-.Questor.Tapes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fontana D C)

"Allow me," Questor said courteously. He lifted the edge of the massive table with one hand.
The croupier dug out the dropped chips, started to climb to his feet, and stopped, staring. Questor gently lowered the table edge. Hands shaking, the croupier gathered the rest of the chips and gave them to Questor very respectfully.
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank you for a most informative ten minutes, seventeen seconds."
Questor and Jerry walked toward the door. The crowd had not ceased its confused and amazed chatter. Jerry wondered how they would break the news of his death to his mother. Then he saw the two gorillas respectfully move to one side and let them go to the cashier's window. The chips were exchanged quickly for pound notes, and no one bothered them as they left.
Jerry stopped five blocks away from the casino, looked back to see if they had been followed, and relaxed, relieved to see no one behind them. He leaned against a lamp post to gulp in refreshing breaths of crisp night air as if he had been holding his breath too long. He had.
Questor watched him, puzzled. "You appear to be suffering some strain, Mr. Robinson."
"Questor ... do you realize that run of 'luck' you had in there could have gotten us killed? I told you to stop."
66
"I would have endangered your life because I changed the structure of the strange pair of dice they gave me on the last wager?"
"Strange pair of-? Questor, they gave you a different pair of dice? Heavier than the others?"
"Yes. But I corrected the obvious unbalance."
Jerry leaned his head back against the lamp post and began to laugh softly. Questor tilted his head slightly to the right, frowning. "This is humorous?"
"Well, yes. You see, those dice were supposed to make you lose. I'll bet they're going crazy trying to figure out how you did it."
"Was it immoral for me to do so?"
Jerry paused, thinking it over. Then he looked at Questor seriously. "No, Questor. Giving you the loaded dice was immoral. And the price they paid was heavy enough." He straightened up, much more cheerful. "But if we ever get to Vegas, there are some slot machines I want you to meet."
8
They walked a great deal that night. Jerry had begun to feel the lack of sleep and the effects of tension. Questor, who was tireless, obligingly stopped whenever Jerry's energy flagged too much, and they sat for a while. They had been too late to even try to book a room in a hotel, so they simply kept moving through London's dimly lighted streets. No one bothered them, not even the occasional bobby walking his beat. Apparently, not all the Metropolitan Police had gotten the "wanted" sheet on them.
It was almost dawn when they reached the embankment along the Thames. Jerry slumped down on a low cement wall and Questor quietly sat beside him. The slowly brightening sky had become silver gray, casting gleaming sparks of light on the broad river. Questor looked around, interested, unquenchably curious.
"Do you know where, we are, Mr. Robinson?"
Jerry roused himself to study the surroundings and nodded. "This is the Thames River, London's principal waterway. The area behind us is called the embankment. It runs all the way up into Chelsea, that way." He pointed upriver. "Down there . . . those buildings are the houses of Parliament. The prominent tower with the clock is Big Ben."
"Thank you, Mr. Robinson. However, am I not correct in saying it is the large bell in the clock tower that is named Big Ben?"
Jerry sighed wearily. "Yes."
"There are other bells in the city with names equally famous, I believe. I have references to Great Peter and-"
"Yes, Questor. That's right. If you don't mind, I'm just 67
68
not up to a lecture on famous bells of the city of London" right now."
"I apologize, Mr. Robinson. I did not take into account your fatigue, which would naturally blunt intellectual curiosity. Would you care to lie down on the grass to rest?"
Jerry wished he could, but practical considerations kept intruding. "We'd probably be arrested as vagrants. We can't risk that." He started to get up. "We'd better move on." He shivered in the damp morning air, suddenly aware of the vast climate difference between southern California and London.
Questor noticed the chattering of Jerry's teeth. "You are cold. I have no need of this jacket if you would care to use it."
"No, no. I'm fine."
Questor put a hand under his elbow, and Jerry sleepily allowed that firm support to propel him along. They walked up toward Chelsea, covering the distance slowly. It was just past seven when Questor turned into a narrow side street lined with Georgian-style buildings. Once they had been private residences. Now they were bed-and-breakfast hotels. Questor guided Jerry toward a woman who was briskly sweeping the steps and sidewalk in front of one of the hotels.
"Pardon me," Questor said.
The woman turned and eyed the two men. The one who had spoken was dressed in an odd assortment of clothing, but he appeared to be bright eyed, fresh, and alert. The taller man was considerably rumpled, puffy eyed, and he had a tendency to sway to the right if his companion did not hold him up.
"Can I help you?"
"I believe you can," Questor said. He pointed to a sign in the front window. "Do you have a room we could rent?"
"How long would you be staying?" "I believe one day should be long enough. You see," Questor went on, "we arrived from the United States late last night, and our luggage was lost. We require a place
69
to stay until the airline can return it to us. They've promised it will not be more than a day."
"Well, I suppose that would be all right. Come along, I'll show you the room. It's two pounds the night."
"Am I correct in assuming that includes breakfast?"
"Yes. Did you want something now?"
"I believe Mr. Robinson will appreciate some food. Scrambled eggs, toast, butter and jam, bacon, and coffee if you have it."
"Yes, sir." The woman led them into the house and directed them to a sunny dining room where tables were set and waiting. Two early risers had taken seats, and Questor chose a table near the window and away from the others.
Jerry slumped into a chair and stretched his long legs. "Questor, you're getting too good at lying."
"The fabrication of a harmless story is not immoral. You have done it, so it cannot be."
Jerry thought about it and bobbed his head. "All right, I'll concede the point. But it has to be a harmless story."
"Agreed."
The woman brought in a tray and set down two plates of eggs and bacon. Questor looked at the food, then at Jerry, who had begun to eat immediately. He copied the way Jerry used fork and knife, putting the food in his mouth, chewing, swallowing. His system did not require it for fuel, of course, but it was absorbed and utilized without waste.
Someone had left the London Times on a nearby table, and Questor picked it up and began to scan it. Jerry continued to attack the food on his .plate. Questor turned to the financial section and studied the columns. Jerry paused in the middle of the eggs and toast and stared at the android.