"Heinlein, Robert A - I Will Fear No Evil v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

"You said it yourself. Senility. Any time a rich man dies at an advanced age with a new will anyone with an interest in breaking it-your granddaughters, I mean-will try to break it, alleging senility and undue influence. I think they would succeed."
"Darn. I want to put Eunice down for a million so she won't be tempted to kill her AB-Negative husband."
"Boss, you're making fun of me again. Nasty fun."
"Eunice, I told you that I do not joke about money. How do we handle it, Jake? Since I'm too senile to make a will."
"Well, the simplest way would be an insurance policy with a paid-up single premium...which would cost, in view of your age and health, slightly more than a million, I surmise. But she would get it even if your will was broken."
"Mr. Salomon, don't listen to him!"
"Johann, do you want that million to revert to you if by any long chance you outlive Eunice?"
"Mmm...no, if it did, a judge might decide to look at the matter-and God himself doesn't know what a judge will do these days. Make the Red Cross the residuary. No, make it the National Rare Blood Club."
"Very well."
"Get it paid up first thing in the morning. No, do it tonight. I may not live till morning. Get an underwriter-Jack Towers, maybe-get Jefferson Billings to open that pawnshop of his and get a certified check. Use my power of attorney, not your own money, or you might be stuck for it. Get the signature of a responsible officer of the insurance company; then you can go to bed."
"Yes, Great Spirit. I'll vary that; I'm a better lawyer than you are. But the policy will be in force before night-with your money, not mine. Eunice, be careful not to kick those hoses and wires as you go out. But tomorrow you needn't be careful-as long as you don't get caught."
She sniffed. "You each have a nasty sense of humor! Boss, I'm going to erase this. I don't want a million dollars. Not from Joe dying, not from you dying."
"If you don't want it, Eunice," her employer said gently, "You can step aside and let the Rare Blood Club have it."
"Uh . . . Mr. Salomon, is that correct?"
"Yes, Eunice. But money is nice to have, especially when you don't have it. Your husband might be annoyed if you turned down a million dollars."
"Uh-" Mrs. Branca shut up.
"Take care of it, Jake. While thinking about how to buy a warm body. And how to get Boyle here and get him whatever permission he needs to do surgery in this country. And so forth. And tell-no, I'll tell her. Miss MacIntosh!"
"Yes, Mr. Smith?" came a voice from the bed console.
"Get your team in; I want to go to bed."
"Yes, sir. I'll tell Dr. Garcia."
Jake stood up. "Good day, Johann. You're a crazy fool."
"Probably. But I do have fun with my money."
"So you do. Eunice, may I run you home?"
"Oh, no, sir, thank you. My Gadabout is in. the basement."
"Eunice," said her boss, "can't you see that the old goat wants to take you home? So be gracious. One of my guards will take your Gadabout home."
"Uh. . . thank you, Mr. Salomon. I accept. Get a good night's sleep, Boss." They started to leave.
"Wait, Eunice," Smith commanded. "Hold that pose.
Jake, pipe those gams! Eunice, that's obsolete slang meaning that you have pretty legs."
"So you have told me before, sir-and so my husband often tells me. Boss you're a dirty old man."
He cackled. "So I am, my dear. . . and have been since I was six, I'm happy to say."


2


Mr. Salomon helped her into her cloak, rode down with her to the basement, waved his guards aside and handed her into his car. Shotgun locked them in, got in by driver-guard and locked that compartment. As she sat down Mrs. Branca said, "Oh, how big! Mr. Salomon, I knew a Rolls was roomy-but I've never been in one before."
"A Rolls only by courtesy, my dear-body by Skoda, power plant by Imperial Atomics, then Rolls-Royce pretties it and backs it with their reputation and service. You should have seen a Rolls fifty years ago, before gasoline engines were outlawed. There was a dream car!"
"This one is dreamy enough. Why, my little Gadabout would fit inside this compartment."
A voice from the ceiling said, "Orders, sir?"
Mr. Salomon touched a switch. "One moment, Rockford." He lifted his hand. "Where do you live, Eunice? Or the coordinates of wherever you want to go?"
"Oh. I'll go home. North one one eight, west thirty-seven, then up to level nineteen-though I doubt that this enormous car will fit into the vehicle lift."
"If not, Rocky and his partner will escort you up the passenger lift and to your door."
"That's nice. Joe doesn't want me to ride passenger lifts by myself."
"Joe is right. So we'll deliver you like a courier letter.
Eunice, are you in a hurry?"
"Me? Joe expects me when I get there, Mr. Smith's working hours being so irregular now. Today I'm quite early."
"Good." Mr. Salomon again touched the intercom switch. "Rockford, we're gong to kill some time. Uh, Mrs. Branca, what zone for those coordinates? Eighteen something?"
"Nineteen-B, sir."
"Find a cruising circle near nineteen-B; I'll give you coordinates later."
"Very good, sir."