"Joe Haldeman - Blood Sisters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

"Listen, there are laws about harassment. If he's really bothering you, the cops'll be glad to
freeze him."
"I can't go to the police." She blew her nose. "I'm not a citizen." I turned off the console.
"Let me see if I can fill in some blanks without using the machine. You're an unauthorized
clone." She nodded.
"With bought papers."
"Of course I have papers. I wouldn't be in your machine if I didn't."
Well, she wasn't dumb, either. "This cod. He isn't just a disgruntled customer."
"No." She didn't elaborate.
"One more guess," I said, "and then you do the talking for a while. He knows you're not
legal."
"He should. He's the one who pulled me."
"Your own daddy. Any other surprises?"
She looked at the floor. "Mafia."
"Not the legal one, I assume."
"Both."
The desk drawer was still open; the sight of my own gun gave me a bad chill. "There are
two reasonable courses open to me. I could handcuff you to the doorknob and call the police.
Or I could knock you over the head and call the Mafia. That would probably be safer."
She reached into her purse; my hand was halfway to the gun when she took out a credit
flash, thumbed it, and passed it over the desk. She easily had five times as much money as I
make in a good year, and I'm in a comfortable seventy percent bracket.
"You must have one hell of a case of bedsores."
"Don't be stupid," she said, suddenly hard. "You can't make that kind of money on your
back. If you take me on as a client, I'll explain."
I erased the flash and gave it back to her. "Miz Ghentlee. You've already told me a great
deal more than I want to know. I don't want the police to put me in jail, I don't want the
courts to scramble my brains with a spoon. I don't want the Mafia to take bolt cutters to my
appendages."
"I could make it worth your while."
"I've got all the money I can use. I'm only in this profession because I'm a snoopy
bastard." It suddenly occurred to me that that was more or less true.
"That wasn't completely what I meant."
"I assumed that. And you tempt me, as much as any woman's beauty has ever tempted
me."
She turned on the waterworks again.
"Christ. Go ahead and tell your story. But I don't think you can convince me to do
anything for you."
"My real clone-mother wasn't named Maribelle Ghentlee."
"I could have guessed that."
"She was Maxine Kraus." She paused. "Maxine . . . Kraus." "Is that supposed to mean
something to me?"
"Maybe not. What about Werner Kraus?"
"Yeah." Swiss industrialist, probably the richest man in Europe. "Some relation?"
"She's his daughter and only heir."
I whistled. "Why would she want to be cloned, then?"
"She didn't know she was being cloned. She thought she was having a Pap test." She
smiled a little. "Ironic posture."
"And they pulled you from the scraping."
She nodded. "The Mafia bought her physician. Then killed him."