"Keith Laumer - The Monitors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

"Mr. Blondel, do you actually have any knowledge of how these high matters were conducted?
Did you participate, even by proxy, in the last- minute closed- door convention sessions in which
deals were made before the final ballot? Do you know what the demonstrated policies of the
participants were, their voting records, their private interests, their political indebtednesses?"
"Confidentially, politics always kind of bored me," Blondel said.
The old gentleman gave Blondel a long sad look, and heaved a patient-sounding sigh. He may
or may not have twiddled something under the edge of the desk; the door opened behind Blondel.
Two good- looking young men in yellow came in, as crisp and snappy as something one obtained
by sending in cereal boxtops.
"Mr. Blondel," the Tersh said, sounding a little grieved, "I would like very much for you to
participate in the short indoctrination course which I've set up to explain our mission here to, ah,
dissenters like yourself. I cannot, of course, insist on your co- operation -- but I ask you, as one
bearer of good will to another, to grant me this request."
"Have I got any choice?"
"Perhaps if you merely looked upon this as an opportunity to learn more about us ... "
There was a pause during which Blondel's imagination ran through a number of potential
alternatives.
"Well," he said. "As long as I'm here - - why not?"
"Excellent!" The Tersh beamed. "And we will talk again in a few days."
Blondel rose; the Monitors closed in.
"Ah -- one other thing ... " the Tersh said.
Blondel turned back.
"In view of your, ah, attitudes, Mr. Blondel - - why did you risk your life to save two of my
Monitors?"
Blondel lifted his shoulders in a vague shrug. The Tersh was looking baffled as Blondel went out
into the hall.
Blondel's escort led him up a wide, white- bannistered, red- carpeted staircase and along a
wallpapered hall to a big white door with a gold knob, standing ajar. Inside there were rugs, a
desk, bookcases, an easy chair, a table and lamp, a four- poster, an inner door leading to a tile
bath, and a pair of windows with airy curtains and heavy lined drapes, looking out on the lawn as
exposed as a billiard table under the lights.
The Monitors left with wishes for a nice sleep. Blondel tried to close the door. It stuck tight,
standing open an inch. The room was less private than it appeared.
He tried out the shower, used a pair of purple-and-yellow striped pajamas from the bureau
drawer, crawled in between heavy linen sheets. He went to sleep pondering the problem of what
the Tersh Jetterax hoped to accomplish by treating him like visiting royalty.
Blondel rose late the next morning. Downstairs, a dried- up little man in old-fashioned butler's
livery and a Hotel-Splendide manner drew out a chair and offered ham and eggs Stroganoff. He
was on his second cup of handbrewed coffee when a Monitor came in and conveyed an invitation
to meet someone in the conservatory.
The latter turned out to be a cheery glassed- in porch with tanks of fish, potted plants, bird
cages, and highbacked wicker chairs in one of which a long- legged, pipesmoking individual in a
tweed jacket and a toothbrush mustache was sitting relaxed. He puffed out blue smoke with an
odor of cookies baking, and waved Blondel toward a chair next to a gray sphere like a metal
beach ball mounted on a stand.
"Good morning, Mr. Blondel," he called, full of early- morning cheer. "Sleep well?"
"I've already had the opening lecture," Blondel told him. "Maybe we could save time if you'll
just skip ahead to the 'consequences'?"
The man's bushy salt - and- pepper eyebrows went up to meet his bushy salt - and- pepper
hairline.