"Kuttner, Henry - Red Gem of Mercury" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

else failed. Kids playing naked under the hydrants, bent old shopkeepers saving
their pennies to send their children to school, shapeless, tired-eyed mothers
slaving over oven-hot stoves in the blazing summers....
VANE parked the car and turned his head. He said to the man lying under the
afghan, "In two minutes you'll wake up and drive to your home. You won't
remember anything that's happened since I met you."
There was no answer. Vane emerged from the car and crossed the street, looking
up at the twilit sky. Ramshackle tenements loomed all around. Tiny, grimy little
shops were visible everywhere. Pushcarts were visible here and there.
Vane entered a small grocery whose window bore the legend: Elite Grocery.
A bell tinkled as he stepped across the threshold, looking around the gloomy
interior. A glass showcase, filled with cheap candy, was at his left. The place
looked just the same--like any other grocery in slumtown.
A boy came from the back--a sallow, taffy-haired kid whose thin face was
splashed with freckles. He stared at Vane.
"Steve! Jez--" He whirled. "Pop! Hey! Steve's here!"
"Eh? Who? What--" Uncle Tobe came into view. He looked like a gnome, except for
his lack of beard. His face was brown and wrinkled as a walnut, and the faded
blue eyes blinked at the intruder.
Then, suddenly, he was running forward unsteadily, gripping Vane's arm with
skeletal fingers, drawing him back into the store.
"Steve! Come in here, quick! They're all looking for you. Did anyone see you
come in?"
Vane smiled, but let himself be pulled back through faded curtains into the back
room, where Uncle Tobe lived with his adopted grandson. He sank down on a
rickety couch and pulled his hat lower over his eyes. No use frightening his
hosts.
"Hold on," he said. "I'm in no danger, Uncle Tobe. Really. I--the police can't
touch me."
"You're cleared? They know you were framed?"
"Not--yet," Vane said slowly, and hurried on. "Listen, I want some information.
Does Pasqual still collect his protection dough from you?"
"Yeah," the boy broke in. "He sure does. Raised the ante, too. That dirty
gorilla of his--he busted Uncle Tobe smack across the face when we was half a
buck short. We cleaned out the till, too, but we couldn't make it."
The old man's eyes searched Vane's face. "Something's happened to you, Steve,"
he said, frowning. "What is it?" "Never mind that. When is the collector due
again?"
"Today," the youngster burst out. "I'm going to stick a knife in--"
"Mickey!" Uncle Tobe's voice was sharp. "You want to grow up to be a gangster?
You shut up!"
Vane said, "Okay. I'm going to wait right here. I want some information from
Pasqual's thug, but when he comes I want you to pay him off as usual."
Uncle Tobe bit his lips nervously. "I haven't the money this week, Steve. I'm
five dollars short. I've been trying to borrow it, but everybody else is hard up
too."
"Swell. Don't worry about that." Vane paused as he heard the sound of a motor
starting across the street. He smiled a little. His weird power was still with
him. He stood up and put his hand on the old man's stooped shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, Uncle Tobe," he said quietly. "Remember when I was a