"Charles L. Harness - The Rose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

Chapter Eleven
The room was small and nearly bare. Its sole furnishings were an ancient calendar, a clothes tree, a few
stacks of dusty books, a table (bare save for a roll of canvas patching tape) and three chairs.

In one of the chairs, across the table, sat Martha Jacques.
She seemed almost to smile at Anna; but the amused curl of her beautiful lips was totally belied by her
eyes, which pulsed hate with the paralyzing force of physical blows.

In the other chair sat Willie the Cork, almost unrecognizable in his groomed neatness.

The psychiatrist brought her hand to her throat as though to restore her voice, and at the movement, she
saw from the corner of her eye that Willie, in a lightning motion, had simultaneously thrust his hand into his
coat pocket, invisible below the table. She slowly understood that he held a gun on her.

The man was the first to speak, and his voice was so crisp and incisive that she doubted her first intuitive
recognition. "Obviously, I shall kill you if you attempt any unwise action. So please sit down, Dr. van
Tuyl. Let us put our cards on the table."

It was too incredible, too unreal, to arouse any immediate sense of fear. In numb amazement, she pulled
out the chair and sat down.

"As you may have suspected for some time," continued the man curtly, "I am a Security agent."

Anna found her voice. "I know only that I am being forcibly detained. What do you want?"

"Information, doctor. What government do you represent?

"None."

The man fairly purred. "Don't you realize, doctor, that as soon as you cease to answer responsively, I
shall kill you?"

Anna van Tuyl looked from the man to the woman. She thought of circling hawks, and felt the intimations
of terror. What could she have done to attract such wrathful attention? She didn't know. But then, they
couldn't be sure about her, either. This man didn't want to kill her until he found out more. And by that
time, surely he'd see that it was all a mistake.

She said: "Either I am a psychiatrist attending a special case, or I am not. I am in no position to prove the
positive. Yet, by syllogistic law, you must accept it as a possibility until you prove the negative.
Therefore, until you have given me an opportunity to explain or disprove any evidence to the contrary,
you can never be certain in your own mind that I am other than what I claim to be."

The man smiled, almost genially. "Well put, doctor. I hope they've been paying you what you are worth."
He bent forward suddenly. "Why are you trying to make Ruy Jacques fall in love with you?"

She stared back with widening eyes. "What did you say?"

"Why are you trying to make Ruy Jacques fall in love with you?"

She could meet his eyes squarely enough, but her voice was now very faint: "I didn't understand you at