"Simon Hawke - The Nine Lives of Catseye Gomez" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

much chance for grass to grow with so much traffic blocking out the sun above the vehicular causeways, and
Denver, Solo said, suffered from chronic water shortages, so the scrubby short prairie grass we skimmed
above looked decidedly anemic.
At one time, according to Solo, Denver had been known as the Queen City of the Rockies, and back then
that wasn't a reference to its sizable gay population. The architecture had been primarily of the Victorian
style, along with a rather blocky, but not altogether unattractive style of house known as the "Denver Square,"
of which there were still quite a few remaining. However, in the days just prior to the Collapse, a large influx of
people from the east and west coasts had changed the demographics of the city, and Denver had started to
lose its own unique identity. They didn't want it to be known as a "cow town" anymore. They wanted to
"imagine a great city," which had been a popular progrowth slogan at the time, and in the process of
imagining a great city, they had apparently managed to ruin a pretty good one.
Then came the Collapse, and, like most other heavily populated urban centers, Denver suffered. There had
been riots and burnings and chronic shortages and power outages and, eventually, Denver had succumbed to
the same anarchy the rest of the world had been plunged into. That had been a little over three-quarters of a
century ago, however, and since then, they'd made a lot of progress. Or, at least, so Solo said.
I guess I'd been spoiled by Santa Fe. My "City of the Holy Faith" had not been hit as hard by the Collapse as
most other places had been. The people had pulled together and managed to largely preserve their graceful
and laid-back Southwestern lifestyle. But then, there had never been any major industry in Santa Fe, and the
city was in a rather isolated location at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The people had simply
banded together, and since many of them were artists and various counterculture types, they'd had an easier
time of it, shifting to an agrarian, barter-based economy. Denver hadn't been so lucky.
The great city they'd imagined had been plunged into a great nightmare of darkness and fighting in the
streets. And I got the impression that not all of that had been put behind them. But then, I thought, maybe I
was being unfair. I had only just arrived. Why not give the place a chance? What the hell, I could always go
back home, right?
The cab dropped us off in front of Solo's building, and we went through the front doors into the lobby. The
security guard on duty at the desk was a senior citizen, and I noticed that he greeted Solo with a warm smile
and a "Good evening, Commissioner."
"Evening, Joe," said Solo. He paused briefly to introduce me and tell the guard I'd be staying for a while. Joe
smiled and greeted me politely.
"Ex-cop," said Solo, as we headed toward the elevator.
"I guessed," I said.
He pushed the call button and the doors opened.
"Floor, please," said the elevator.
"Ten," said Solo.
"Thank you, Mr. Solo." The doors closed, and the elevator started to ascend smoothly. It was very plush in
there. Carpeted, nice paneling. The elevator's voice-command capability meant it was computer controlled,
very slick and fancy. I gathered that the rent here wasn't cheap.
We got off at the tenth floor and went a short distance down the hall to apartment 10-C. Solo opened up the
door and stood aside to let me in.
"Well, here it is," he said. "This is where I hang my hat."
I sauntered in and looked around, twitching my tail back and forth. A nervous habit. "Nice," I said.
"It's got a nice view of the mountains from the balcony."
It did, too, from what I could see through the sliding glass doors, but after that plane ride, I'd had about
enough of heights for a while.
"Would you like something to drink?' asked Solo, automatically, and then he remembered he was talking to a
cat and added, awkwardly, "I... uh... always keep some milk around for my coffee."
"Milk would be fine, thanks. I take it neat, in a saucer."
Solo looked at me, saw that his leg was being pulled a bit, and grinned. "Neat, in a saucer, coming right up."
The place was a lot different from Paulie's adobe house in Santa Fe. For one thing, it was an apartment, not a