"Joe Haldeman - A Tangled Web" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

I tried not to react. "How much is the Syndicate?"
"If the Syndicate existed," he said carefully, "and if it were they who 'had retained me,
don't you think I would try to use that fact to frighten you away?"
"Maybe not directly . . . last night, you said `desperate men.' "
"I was drunk." No, not Peter Rabbit, not on a couple of bottles of wine. I just looked at
him. "All right," he said, "I was told to use any measures short of violence-"
"Poisoning isn't violence?"
"Tranquilizing, not poisoning. You couldn't have died." He poured himself some wine.
"Top yours off?"
"I've become a solitary drinker."
He poured the contents of my glass into his. "I might be able to save you some trouble, if
you'll only tell me what termsтАФ"
"A case of Jack Daniels and all they can eat at Slim Joan's."
"That might do it," he said unsmilingly, "but I can offer fifteen hundred shares of
Hartford."
That was $150 million, half again what I'd been authorized. "Just paper to them."
"Or a million cases of booze, if that's the way they want it." He checked his watch. "Isn't
our flyer waiting?"
I supposed it would be best to have him along, to keep an eye on him. "The one who
closes the deal pays for the trip?" "All right."
On the hour-long flyer ride I considered various permutations of what I could offer. My
memory had been jammed with the wholesale prices of various kinds of machinery, booze,
candy, and so forth, along with their mass and volume, so I could add in the shipping costs
from Earth to Armpit to Morocho III. Lafitte surely had similar knowledge; I could only
hope that his figure of 1500 shares was a bluff.
(I had good incentive to bargain well. Starlodge would give me a bonus of up to 10
percent of the difference between a thousand shares and whatever the settlement came to. If I
brought it in at 900, I'd be a millionaire.)
We were turning inland; the walls of the city made a pink rectangle against the towering
jungle. I tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Can you land inside the city?"
"Not unless you want to jump from the top of a building. I can set you on the wall,
though." I nodded.
"Can't take the climb, Dick? Getting old?"
"No need to waste steps." The flyer was a little wider than the wall, and it teetered as we
stepped out. I tried to look just at my feet.
"Beautiful from up here," Lafitte said. "Look at that sunset." Half the large sun's disk was
visible on the jungle horizon, a deeper red than Earth's sun ever shone. The bloody light
stained the surf behind us purple. It was already dark in the city below; the smell of rancid
fish oil burning drifted up to us.
 Lafitte managed to get the inside lane of the staircase. I tried to keep my eyes on him and
the wall as we negotiated the high steps.
"Believe me," he said (a phrase guaranteed to inspire trust), "it would make both our jobs
easier if I could tell you who I'm representing. But I really am sworn to secrecy."
An oblique threat deserves an oblique answer. "You know I can put you in deep trouble
with the Standards Committee. Poisoning a Guild brother."
"Your word against mine. And the bellbot's, the headwaiter's, the wine steward's . . . you
did have quite a bit to drink."
"A couple of bottles of wine won't knock me out."
"Your capacity is well known. I don't think you want a hearing investigating it, though,
not at your age. Two years till retirement?"