"Ron Goulart - Nemo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

of the bed, his furry slippers came scurrying toward his bare feet.
He'd had the dream even nights when Haley was home. What could be
in the damn suitcase that would kill somebody?
"Forget it," he told himself aloud. "It's stupid."
"Huh?"
"Nothing." Ted walked slowly over the pit floor, climbed the ladder up
into the earth-colors bedroom. He was a lean blond man of just over
thirty, average looking though slightly quirky around the edges. He
shuffled across the thermal floor to glance down into his wife's sleeping
pit. No, she wasn't there.
You could carry a bomb in that suitcase. No, it wasn't a bomb. It was
heavy, but not a bomb. He shook his head, hoping to make the last shreds
of the dream fade.
Ted looked toward the draped windows. The drapes snapped open,
pleasant rustic music drifted down out of the main overhead audio
speaker. "Looks like another mighty fine day here in Brimstone,
Connecticut," announced the house computer. "A brisk, autumnal
Wednesday, September 8, 2020. You'll especially enjoy today's predicted
temperature ofтАФ"
"Who the hell's that guy?" There was an overweight man crouching on
the front lawn with a self-operating movie-disc camera cradled in his lap.
Ted loped closer to the wide gently curved window to grab up the
public-address mike for his lawn area. "Who the hell are . . . Oh, is that
you, Mr. Swedenberg?"
The overweight man in the two-piece green travelsuit nodded, smiling
sadly toward Ted. The outdoor monitoring system gave his voice a mildly
squeaky tone. "I'm only here in the United States for eight more hours this
trip," he explained to Ted. "I craved another look. Also, if you don't object,
I'm shooting some full-color tri-op to show Mrs. Swedenberg and the
children."
"No, that'll be okay," Ted told him. "How's the fishmeal business over in
China-3?"
"Can't complain," replied Swedenberg while his camera went on taking
pictures. "You're still prospering with the Federal Repossession Bureau
Office over in New Westport?"
"Still with FRB, yeah."
"And your attractive young wife, Haley?"
"She's fine. How are Mrs. Swedenberg and the kids? I guess Lars must
be in college now."
"His name is Nils, and yes, he is," said Swedenberg. "We're all doing as
well as can be expected. Fortunately, the starvation rate among the locals
in China-3 is much lower than it is in China-2. So Mrs. Swedenberg and
the children aren't exposed to as many dead and dying people." He
watched his camera scamper over the pseudograss. "We do, of course, still
miss our little house here in Brimstone very much."
"Well, your fishmeal company will probably transfer you back to
Connecticut someday. Then you'll be able to buy another place pretty
much like this one."
"Oh, not like this one." Swedenberg sighed. "There'll never be another
Sixty-three Limestone Hills Road, which is why I appreciate your allowing