"Ron Goulart - Looking Into It" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

"Duration of what?"

"Our war with Brazil."

"Really? You wouldn't think mechanical Jazz would give aid and comfort to the enemy," said Phil.
"Especially with them down in South America and the festivals here in California. Well, there are a lot of
other ways to approach Melissa."

A rasping buzz came out of Gabbo's speech grid. "Oops, here's your boss," said the computer. "Look up
on monitor screen six."

Phil moved the Melissa spools onto his desk top. "Good afternoon, Sal."

Sal Kibbs was on screen six, a small stalky man of forty-seven. He wore a sleeveless, plaid tunic and a
rimless hat to match. "You've been looking into this Pro-Brasil mess for about half a year now, Phil. I'm
happy to say we're seeing daylight at the end of the tunnel at long last."

Phil glanced from the screen to the spools and back. "Oh, so?"

Sal tapped his right elbow and it flipped open like a jewel box lid. "I've got a secret report here that

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 Looking Into It

should cheer you up," said his chief.

Phil said, "I thought it was your left elbow you had the secret compartment in, Sal."

"That wasn't enough room so I had another one implanted in the right elbow. I may even have to use my
knees and buttocks if the volume of work keens expanding the way it has." Kibbs unfolded a thin sheet
of fax paper that he'd extracted from his hollow elbow. "That lint mike has paid off."

"Doctor Hopely's lint mike?"

"That lint mike, yes," said Kibbs, tapping the sheet. "This is a transcription of the pertinent material. I
won't read it all ... something, something . . . 'Nobody can hear us in this cave under the faculty glade,
Dolan ...'... something, something ... 'I'll slip you the formula for the hay fever gas tomorrow night. . . .
We'll meet at the paper flower exhibit at the Marin Art & Garden Center tomorrow night at 10.'"

"Hay fever?"

"That's the CBW weapon Hopely's been working on," said Kibbs. He folded the transcript, put it back in
the hollow and slammed his elbow. "Hopely's hay fever gas is a humane weapon. You can't wipe your
nose and shoot a laser rifle at the same time. You should have seen the field tests on this stuff. There's no
known cure either. The poor bastards sniffle and sneeze for the rest of their lives."

"Is that really humane?" asked Phil. "I had hay fever when I was a kid, only in the autumn. Permanent
hay fever is no fun."

"Compared to what we could use on those Brazilian bastards, this is humane. Anyway, congratulations."