"Hamilton, Peter F - Softlight Sins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

Roosevelt."
Adrian had fallen silent, glaring round at them, teeth bared.
Judge Hayward voicelined the terminal for a two way translation. "What is
your name?" she asked Adrian.
The terminal repeated the question in German.
"Mentally defective bitch," he shouted.
She backed away, badly disturbed. "Whoever Adrian believes he is, he
remains our problem. The three of us- " her red fingernail lined up first
on Douglas then Harvey Boden, " -have to decide what to do next."
"Is this an official session?" Douglas asked.
"We'll call it an In Chambers consultation, if you and the Prosecution
have no objection."
"After this failure of Softlight, Prosecution has no alternative but to
apply for the death penalty," Harvey Boden said quickly.
"On who?" Douglas snapped back. "On Adrian Reynolds, or this German?"
"There is no German, Douglas, only a mind screwed about by a subliminal
laser code. Face facts."
"You don't know that. At the very least I would appeal for an identity
check first."
"Oh yes?" Harvey Boden was scathing. "What kind of check, genetic
fingerprinting?"
"My client, Adrian Reynolds, was sentenced to personality erasure. That
has been enacted; successfully, as far as we can tell. The emergence of
this second personality is outside the court's jurisdiction."
They glared at each other.
"We could try a hypnogenic," Barbara Johnson suggested.
"Fair enough," Judge Hayward said. "Any objections? No. Good."
Adrian spat on Dr Elliot as he approached with the spray ampoule. Phlegm
dripped down the doctor's collar as he applied the nozzle to Adrian's
neck.
Dr Elliot waited until the young man dropped into a waking trance, eyelids
heavy, head drooping. "Can you hear me?" he asked.
Adrian mumbled something. "Yes," the translator program said.
"What is your name?"
"Erich Breuer."
"What is your job, Erich?"
"I am a member of the garrison troop."
"Where?"
"Dachau."
Douglas heard a quick hiss of indrawn breath from Barbara Johnson. Harvey
Boden's face turned blank, unreadable.
"What is the last thing you remember before you woke up in this room?"
The man's hands started to tremble slightly. "The Yankees have arrived,
their tanks halting by the guard post. There were shots, our officers were
killed. The Yankees, they cried and they vomited when they saw the
inmates, the unburied corpses. I am lined up against a wall with my
colleagues, some are bleeding from the beatings. I hear the machine gun
firing. Louder. Louder." His eyes widened with shock, mouth hanging open.
Douglas turned away, unable to look at the shell of flesh which had once
been Adrian Reynolds.