"Harry Harrison - Deathworld 1 " - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

"I'm not prepared to do business," he said acidly. "I've come to Cassylia for a vacation, get away from work."
"Let's not fool each other, dinAlt," Kerk said impatiently. "You've never worked at an honest job in your entire life. You're a
professional gambler and that's why I'm here to see you."
Jason forced down his anger and threw the gun to the other end of the couch so he wouldn't be tempted to commit suicide. He
had been so sure that no one knew him on Cassylia and had been looking forward to a big kill at the Casino. He would worry
about that later. This wrestler type seemed to know all the answers. Let him plot the course for awhile and see where it led.
"All right, what do you want."
Kerk dropped into a chair that creaked ominously under his weight, and dug an envelope out of one pocket. He flipped
through it quickly and dropped a handful of gleaming Galactic Exchange Notes onto the table. Jason glanced at them-then sat up
suddenly.
"What are they-forgeries?" he asked, holding one up to the light.
"They're real enough," Kerk told him, "I picked them up at the bank. Exactly twenty-seven bills-or twenty-seven million
credits. I want you to use them as a bankroll when you go to the Casino tonight. Gamble with them and win."
They looked real enough-and they could be checked. Jason fingered them thoughtfully while he examined the other man.
"I don't know what you have in mind," he said. "But you realize I can't make any guarantees. I gamble-but I don't always win."
 "You gamble-and you win when you want to," Kerk said grimly. "We looked into that quite carefully before I came to you."
"If you mean to say that I cheat..." Carefully, Jason grabbed his temper again and held it down. There was no future in getting
annoyed.
Kerk continued in the same level voice, ignoring Jason's growing anger. "Maybe you don't call it cheating, frankly I don't care.
As far as I'm concerned, you could have your sleeves lined with aces and electromagnets in your toes. As long as you win. I'm not
here to discuss moral points with you. I said I had a proposition.
"We have worked hard for that money-but it still isn't enough. To be precise, we need three billion credits. The only way to get
that sum is by gambling. With these twenty-seven million as bankroll."
"And what do I get out of it?" Jason asked the question coolly, as if any bit of the fantastic proposition made sense.
"Everything above the three billion you can keep, that should be fair enough. You're not risking your own money, but you
stand to make enough to keep you for life if you win."
"And if I lose?"
Kerk thought for a moment, not liking the taste of the idea. "Yes, there is the chance you might lose. I hadn't thought about
that."
He reached a decision. "If you lose-well, I suppose that is just a risk we will have to take. Though I think I would kill you
then. The ones who died to get the twenty-seven million deserve at least that." He said it quietly, without malice, and it was more
of a considered decision than a threat.
Stamping to his feet, Jason refilled his glass and offered one to Kerk who took it with a nod of thanks. He paced back and
forth, unable to sit. The whole proposition made him angry, yet at the same time had a fatal fascination. He was a gambler and this
talk was like the sight of drugs to an addict.
Stopping suddenly, he realized that his mind had been made up for some time. Win or lose-live or die-how could he say no to
the chance to gamble with money like that! He turned suddenly and jabbed his finger at the big man in the chair.
"I'll do it-you probably knew I would from the time you came in here. There are some terms of my own, though. I want to
know who you are, and who they are you keep talking about. And where did the money come from-is it stolen?"
Kerk drained his own glass and pushed it away from him.
"Stolen money? No, quite the opposite. Two years' work mining and refining ore to get it. It was mined on Pyrrus and sold
here on Cassylia. You can check on that very easily. I sold it. I'm the Pyrric ambassador to this planet." He smiled at the thought.
"Not that that means much, I'm ambassador to at least six other planets as well. Comes in handy when you want to do business."
Jason looked at the muscular man with his grey hair and worn, military-cut clothes, and decided not to laugh. You heard of
strange things out in the frontier planets and every word could be true. He had never heard of Pyrrus either, though that didn't
mean anything. There were over thirty thousand known planets in the inhabited universe.
"I'll check on what you have told me," Jason said. "If it's true we can do business. Call me tomorrow...
"No," Kerk said. "The money has to be won tonight. I've already issued a check for this twenty-seven million; it will bounce as
high as the Pleiades unless we deposit the money in the morning, so that's our time limit."
With each moment, the whole affair became more fantastic-and more intriguing for Jason. He looked at his watch. There was