"Alan Dean Foster - For Love Of Mother-Not" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

УNot lively enough to be in with the group I was thinking of,Ф the clerk responded. УName?Ф
Flinx hesitated. УI always just called her Mother Mastiff.Ф
The man frowned, then studied his unseen readout. УIs Mastiff a first name or last name? IТm assuming the СMotherТ is an honorific.Ф
Flinx found himself staring dumbly at the clerk. Suddenly, he was aware of the enormous gaps that made up much of his life. УI-I donТt know, for sure.Ф
The bureaucratТs attitude turned stony. УIs this some kind of joke, young man?Ф
УNo, sir,Ф Flinx hastened to assure him, УitТs no joke. IТm telling you the truth when I say that I donТt know.See, sheТs not my natural mother.Ф
УAh,Ф the clerk murmured discreetly. УWell, then, whatТs your last name?Ф
УI-У To his great amazement, Flinx discovered that he was starting to cry. It was a unique phenomenon that he had avoided for some time; now, when he least needed it, it afflicted him.
The tears did have an effect on the clerk, though. УLook, young man, I didnТt mean to upset you. All I can tell you is that no woman of that advanced an age is OQ last nightТs arrest recording. For that matter, no one that old has been reported in custody by any other official source. Does that help you at all?Ф
Flinx nodded slowly. It helped, but not in the way heТd hoped. УTh-thank you very much, sir.Ф
УWait, young man! If youТll give me your name, maybe I can have a gendarme sent out with-У The image died as Flinx flicked the disconnect button. His credcard popped from its slot. Slowly, wiping at his eyes, he put it back inside his shirt. Would the clerk bother to trace the call? Flinx decided not. For an instant, the bureaucrat had thought the call was from some kid pulling a joke on him. After a momentТs reflection, he would probably think so again.
No one of Mother MastiffТs age arrested or reported in. Not at Missing Persons, which was bad, but also not at the morgue, which was good because that reinforced his first thoughts: Mother Mastiff had been carried off by unknown persons whose motives remained as mysterious as did their identity. He gazed out the little boothТs window at the looming, alien forest into which it seemed she and her captors had vanished, and exhaustion washed over him. It was toasty warm in the corn booth.
The boothТs chair was purposely uncomfortable, but the floor was heated and no harder. For a change, he relished his modest size as he worked himself into a halfway comfortable position on the floor. There was little room for Pip in the cramped space, so the flying snake reluctantly found itself a perch on the corn unit. Anyone entering the booth to make a call would be in for a nasty shock.
It was well into morning when Flinx finally awoke, stiff and cramped but mentally rested. Rising and stretching, he pushed aside the door and left the corn booth. To the north lay the first ranks of the seemingly endless forest, which ran from MothТs lower temperate zone to its arctic.To the south lay the city, friendly, familiar. It would be hard to turn his back on it.
Pip fluttered above him, did a slow circle in the air, then rose and started northwestward. In minutes, the minidrag was back. In its wordless way, it was reaffirming its feelings of the night before: Mother Mastiff had passed that way. Flinx thought a moment. Perhaps her captors, in order to confuse even the most unlikely pursuit, had carried her out into the forest, only to circle back into the city again.
How was he to know for certain? The government couldnТt help him further. All right, then. He had always been good at prying information from strangers. They seemed to trust him instinctively, seeing in him a physically unimposing, seemingly not-too-bright youngster. He could probe as facilely here as in the markeplace.
Leaving the booth and the sawmill block, he began his investigation by questioning the occupants of the smaller businesses and homes. He found most houses deserted, their inhabitants having long since gone off to work, but the industrial sites and businesses were coming alive as the cityТs commercial bloodstream began to circulate. Flinx confronted the workers as they entered through doors and gates, as they parked their occasional individual transports, and as they stepped off public vehicles.
Outside the entrance to a small firm that manufactured wooden fittings for kitchen units, he encountered someone not going to work but leaving. УExcuse me, sir,Ф he said for what seemed like the hundred thousandth time, Уdid you by any chance see a group of people pass through this part of town last night? УThey would have had an upset old lady with them, perhaps restrained somehow.Ф
УNow thatТs funny of you to mention,Ф the man said unexpectedly. УSee, IТm the night guard at Koyunlu over there.Ф He gestured at the small building that was filling up with workers. УI didnТt see no old woman, but there was something of a commotion late last night over that way.Ф He pointed at the road which came to a dead end against the nearby trees.
УThere was a lot of shouting and yelling and cursing. I took a look with my nightsight-thatТs my job, you know-and I saw a bunch of people getting out of a rented city transport. They were switching over to a mudder.Ф
The watchman appeared sympathetic. УThey werenТt potential thieves or young vandals, so I didnТt watch them for long. I donТt know if they were the people youТre looking for.Ф
Flinx thought a moment, then asked, УYou say that you heard cursing. Could you tell if any of it was from a woman?Ф
The man grinned. УI see what you thinking, son. No, they were too far away. But I tell you this: someone in that bunch could swear like any dozen sewer riders.Ф
Flinx could barely contain his excitement. УThatТs them; thatТs her! ThatТs got to be her!Ф
УIn fact,Ф the watchman continued, УthatТs really what made it stick in me mind. Not that you donТt see people switching transports at night-you do, even way out here. ItТs Just a bad time to go mudding into the woods, and when it is done, itТs usually done quietly. No need that I can see for all that yelling and shouting.Ф
УIt was them, all right,Ф Flinx murmured decisively. УIt was her swearing-or her kidnappers swearing at her.Ф
УKidnap-У The man seemed to notice FlinxТs youth for the first time. УSay, soa, maybe youТd better come along with me.Ф
УNo, I canТt.Ф Flinx. started to hack up, smiling apologetically. УI have to go after them. I have to find her.Ф
УJust hold on a second there, son,Ф the watchman said. УIll give a call to the police. We can use the company corns. You want to do this right and proper soТs-У
УThey wonТt do anything,Ф Flinx said angrily. УI know them.Ф On an intimate basis, he could have added, since heТd been arrested for petty theft on more than one occasion. He was probably on their question-list right now. They would hold him and keep him from going after Mother Mastiff.
УYou wait, son,Ф the watchman insisted. УIТm not going to be part of something-У As he spoke, he reached out a big hand. Something bright blue-green-pink hissed threateningly. A triangular head darted menacingly at the clutching hand. The man hastily drew it back.
УDamn,Ф he said, УthatТs alive!Ф
УVery alive,Ф Flinx said, continuing to back away. УThanks for your help, sir.Ф He turned and dashed toward the city.
УBoy, just a minute!Ф The watchman stared after the retreating figure. Then he shrugged. He was tired. It had been a long, dull night save for that one noisy bunch heТd seen, and he was anxious to be home and asleep. He sure as hell didnТt need trouble himself with the antics of some kid. Pushing the entire incident from his thoughts, he headed toward the company transport stop.
Once he was sure he was out of sight of the watchman, Flinx paused to catch his breath. At least he knew with some certainty that Mother Mastiff had been kidnapped and taken out of the city. Why she had been carried off into the great northern forest he could not imagine.
In addition to the hurt at the back of his mind, a new ache had begun to make itself felt. He had had nothing to eat since the previous night. He could hardly go charging off into MothТs vast evergreen wilderness on an empty stomach.
Prepare yourself properly, then proceed. ThatТs what Mother Mastiff had always taught him. Ill go home, he told himself. Back to the shop, back to the marketplace. The kidnapers had switched to a mudder. Such a vehicle was out of FlinxТs financial reach, but he knew where he could rent a stupava running bird. That would give him flexibility as well as speed.
His legs still throbbed from the seemingly endless run across the city the previous day, so he used public transport to return home. Time was more important than credits. The transport chose a main spoke avenue and in minutes deposited him in the marketplace.
From the drop-off, it was but a short sprint to the shop. He found himself half expecting to see Mother Mastiff standing in the entrance, mopping the stoop and waiting to bawl him out for being gone for so long. But the shop was quiet, the living space still disarranged and forlorn. None-the less, Flinx checked it carefully. There were several items whose positions he had memorized before leaving; they were undisturbed.
He began to collect a small pile of things to take with him. Some hasty trading in the market produced a small backpack and as much concentrated food as he could cram into it. Despite the speed of his bargaining, he received full value for those items he traded off from Mother MastiffТs stock. With Pip riding his shoulder, few thought to cheat him. When anyone tried, the minidragТs reactions instantly alerted its master and Flinx simply took his trade elsewhere.
Flinx switched his city boots for less gaudy but more durable forest models. His slickertic would serve just as well among the trees as among the cityТs towers. The outright sale of several items gave his credcard balance a healthy boost. Then it was back to the shop for a last look around. Empty. So empty without her. He made certain the shutters were locked, then did the same to the front door. Before leaving, he stopped at a stall up the street.
УYouТre out of your mind, Flinx-boy.Ф Arrapkha said from the entrance to his stall, shaking his head dolefully. The shop smelled of wood dust and varnish. УDo you know what the forest is like? It runs from here to the North Pole. Three thousand, four thousand kilometers as the tarpac flies and not a decent-sized city to be found.
УThereТs mud up there so deep it could swallow all of Drallar, not to mention things that eat and things that poison. Nobody goes into the north forest except explorers and herders, hunters and sportsmen-crazy folk from offworld who like that sort of nowhere land. Biologists and botanists-not normal folk like you and me.Ф
УNormal folk didnТt carry off my mother,Ф Flinx replied.
Since he couldnТt discourage the youngster, Arrapkha tried to make light of the situation. УWorse for them that they did. I donТt think they know what theyТve gotten themselves into.Ф
Flinx smiled politely. УThanks, Arrapkha. If it wasnТt for your help, I wouldnТt have known where to begin.Ф
УAlmost I wish IТd said nothing last night,Ф he muttered sadly. УWell, luck to you, Flinx-boy. IТll remember you.Ф
УYouТll see me again,Ф Flinx assured him with more confidence than he truly felt. УBoth of us.Ф
УI hope so. Without your Mother Mastiff, the marketplace will be a duller place.Ф
УDuller and emptier,Ф Flinx agreed. УI have to go after her, friend Arrapkha. I really have no choice.Ф