"Keith Laumer & Eric Flint - Future Imperfect" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

selections on the tape-screen box. He was thirty-five, give or take a couple of years,
ordinary-looking, with sandy hair and a slightly receding chin. He seemed to be taking a
long time with the cigarette.
"Wait right here," I said to the girl in what I hoped was a soothing tone. I stood,
pushed the chair back. The man shot a quick glance my way, turned and went across to
the door. I followed him through into the misty rain. He was already twenty feet away,
walking fast, head down. I closed the gap, caught him by one shoulder, spun him around.
"All right, spill it," I said. "If you've got a gun, don't try it; mine's aimed at your
second coat button."
His jaw dropped. He backed away, his hands up chest-high as if to fend me off. I
followed him.
"Tell it fast, Mister. Make it good. This headache I've got puts me in a nasty temper."
He shot a look up and down the street. "Listen," he said in a choked voice, "don't
shoot, see? You can have the wallet, and the watchтАФI got a pretty good watch. . . ." He
fumbled at his wrist.
"Skip the act," I put plenty of snarl into it. "Who's Sethys? What did the coin mean to
him? Who were the men tracking the sailor? And what was the idea of mugging the girl?"
"Hah?" He got the watch off, fumbled it, dropped it on the sidewalk. He was against
the wall now, leaning away from me. His face was slack and yellowish.
"Last chance." I rammed the gun against him; he made a bleating sound and grabbed
for it. I jerked it back and hit him on the side of the jaw. He covered his head with both
arms and made broken noises.
"The wallet," I ordered. "Let's see it."
He lowered an arm to fumble it out of his hip pocket; I grabbed it, flipped it open.
Stained cards told me this was Jim Ezzard, of 319 S. Tulip Way, insured by Eterna
Mutual, accredited to the nation's oil dealers, a member in arrears of the Jolly Boys Social
and Sporting Club.
I dropped the wallet on the pavement. "Where were you headed in such a hurry,
EzzardтАФor whatever your name is? What were you going to tell your boss?"
He was looking at the wallet, lying open at his feet, the few well-worn bills still in it.
I could see an idea struggling for birth behind his face.
"You. . . . some kind of a cop?" he got out. "IтАФ"
"Never mind what I am. We'll talk about youтАФ"
"You got nothing on me." He was making a fast recovery, jerking his lapels back into
line, working his jaw with his hand. "I'm clean as a cue ball all evening, you can check
with the bar girls at Simon'sтАФ"
"Skip the bar girls at Simon's," I cut him off. "Turn your pockets out." He did,
grumbling. They were full of the usual assortment of small change, paperclips, lint and
canceled movie tickets.
"You guys are getting too big for your britches," he told me. "Getting where a guy
can't stick his nose outside without some flattieтАФ"
"Can it, Jim," I told him, "or I'll turn back into a bad guy."
I walked away, listening to his muttering get louder in inverse ratio to the distance
between us.
Back inside the beanery, the girl waited where I had left her.
"Nothing," I said. "False alarm. I guess I'm getting hypersensitive to ordinary-looking
men. They all look like they're carrying a hand-filed shiv and cyanide in a back tooth."
She gave me her smile againтАФthis time I was sure of it. She was nice to talk to, no back-
talk, just a smile.
"Let's go," I took her hand, urged her to her feet. "We'll pick a second-rate house near