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

He got up and took a turn up and down the room. So far, the pattern had failed to fit Blondel's
preconceived notions of how an invasion should be managed. Where were the dive bombers and
the big guns and the paratroopers and the tanks rumbling in through the rubble? What were the
Air Force and the Army doing against the enemy? How much territory had been taken over? Had
the Pentagon hit back with the nuclear strike force or the Polaris fleet? His right hand twitched in
a reflex urge to turn on a television set and get the Word.
There was a soft footfall outside and Aunderson poked his face around the door, frowned at all
four corners of the room, then slid inside.
"Well, what do you think?" he whispered.
"Slim was right," Blondel said. "They leave the doors open on purpose."
"Yes." Aunderson tipped his head toward the one he had just come through. "Jammed open.
They're watching, all right."
"And listening."
 The visitor clamped his jaw shut, prowled the room looking under things, then sat on the edge
of the bed and jiggled a foot. Blondel waited. Outside a light wind made a sighing sound in the
branches of a tree.
"What do you think of their story?" Aunderson muttered suddenly. He gave the appearance of
trying to talk without moving his lips.
"Sounds good," Blondel said. Aunderson's head jerked. "Too good," Blondel added. Aunderson
relaxed.
"You ... ah ... have any plans?" Aunderson watched the toe of his shoe.
"I plan to rub GI soap in my armpit," Blondel said from the side of his mouth. "I'll run a fever;
when they take me away to the hospital I'll steal a jug of medicinal brandy and shack up in a
broom closet with a redheaded nurse until they go away."
Aunders on's head jerked again. "This is no time for boffs, fellow," he said sternly. "What kind of
American are you?"
"I tear up traffic tickets and chisel on my income tax right along with the rest of you," Blondel
reassured him. "I'm no scab."
"Just after dinne r would be the best time," Aunderson said. "They overeat. Makes 'em
sluggish."
"Yeah?"
"Absolutely."
"Tonight would be better." Blondel was not moving his lips either.
"Eh?"
"While they're asleep."
Aunderson hitched a little closer, listening intently for the details. "Go on, fellow."
"That's all," Blondel said. "Don't play dumb. Go back to your room and stand by. I'll let you
know."
Aunderson stood up. "Any, ah, preparations I ought to make?"
"Naturally. Tear all your sheets into two- inch strips. Better go into the john to do it. If they see
you they might catch wise. Work quietly and keep your lips buttoned."
"The door won't close." Aunderson blushed a little.
"Get behind it."
"And knot them together?"
"Not unless your lips are a lot looser than mine."
"I mean the sheets."
"Naturally. Don't waste my time with routine questions. I assume your inoculations are in
order?"
"What's that? You mean cholera, typhoid, and so on?"
"I don't mean hiccups."