"Laurence M. Janifer - Martyr" - читать интересную книгу автора (Janifer Laurence M)

The leader of the group of rebels spoke first, without moving. "We got the bomb inside here," he said
flatly. His Western accent, not quite a twang, was, Carson thought, rather attractive. "No false moves,
now, because we know how to set it offтАФand we will! One touch, and we all go upтАФand a fair piece of
Colorado with us."
"Which would hardly do you a great deal of good," Carson said mildly. The leader (twenty-two,
local-college graduate, no military history, no police history, no declared formal religion) gave him a
flat-eyed stare.
"You're scared," he said. "Look: the people know what we've got here. Thanks to the TV. And if this
bomb goes off, the people will rise. You know that, mister. A real rising, tooтАФmore than your shaky
establishment can stand. Which you also know."
"I see," Carson said. The cars and chauffeurs waited, baking, as everyone else did except the four
children inside the cabin. "Martyrs, then. Martyrs for your cause."
"Right on," the leader said. "Martyrs. Because we are not afraid to go. You have to understand that,
mister: we are not afraid to go. Not if the people rise behind us. We'll be remembered, mister; we'll go
down in the books, and in the stories. Later. When the establishment is gone at lastтАФ"
"I'm sure," Carson murmured politely. "May we come inside? I'll permit our drivers inside their cars,
then, quite out of anyone's way, I assure you. They would appreciate the air-conditioning, and I'm sure
that your conference room is cooler inside than out."
"Comfort," the leader said, and grinned, with the enormously attractive force of a very few of the
insane. "Big comfort. That's what you all live for, isn't itтАФyou big people?"
Carson knew that each of the five had come from a home in the twenty-to-thirty-thousand-dollar
income bracket, and consequently from a life-style more opulent than either chauffeur's, or Suessman's.
Carson himself drew a somewhat higher salary, but tithing with his church, and a few other such matters,
brought him nearer Suessman's level than that of the rebels. He said, of course, nothing whatever; and
after ten seconds had passed, the leader said: "All right, sure. Go ahead. What do we care?"
Carson nodded to the chauffeurs. He and Suessman stepped past the leader and into the cabin.
Already in the dimly-lit cabin were three chairs, two candles, four human beings, and a heavy-looking
sphere which shone rather dully in the light. A good many gadgets seemed to be growing out of the thing,
and Carson found himself wondering idly just how a thing like that worked. Terribly complex, of course .
. . probably beyond anything he could understand ...
The door shut, neither quietly nor with a slam. The musty, cool air inside seemed to thicken. The
leader, standing against the door, said: "All right. Now you're here. Now we negotiateтАФin private for
now. You asked for that, and it's all right with us: if we don't show up again, or if this little baby goes
offтАФwhy, then, everybody will know what it means. Isn't that right, mister?"
"Exactly," Carson said.
"Now," the leader said comfortably, "here we all are. Let it out. What is it you think you have?"

Twenty minutes later, Carson said: "I take it, then, that you are determined to be martyrs, if that will
best aid your cause?"
"Take it," one of the girls said abruptly, "and you know what you can do with it. Sure: we're set for
that. Nobody searched you coming in here, did they? What harm can you do? Either the bomb goes, or
we doтАФor we get what we want. This talk isn't worth spit. You just remember there isn't much time
left."
"Not much," one of the others said. "Better get out of ground zero, big people."
"BecauseтАФ"
"When she blowsтАФ"
"It'll be too late, mister, too late, too lateтАФ"
"Too late," the leader said. "We told you what we want. Now: do we get it?"
Spoiled children, Carson thought (not for the first time during a negotiation): spoiled brats. Aloud,
he said: "Nothing I say can change your minds about this?"