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

"This is merely a routine counselling check, sir. May I have your ignition key?"
"My keys? Maybe I'd better see a badge first. I mean, what are you boys, some kind of special
deputies or something?"
"We're your Monitors, sir. You've heard the announcements during the last eighty minutes." It
was not a question.
"Ah ... my radio's on the blink - - "
"Testing - - one, two, three, four," the radio said clearly.
"Well, can you beat that ... ?"
"Will you step out of the car, please, sir?" The Monitor opened the door.
"What for?" Blondel demanded. "What did I do ... ?"
A tingly feeling went over Blondel; his muscles twitched; his left leg slid out and felt for the
ground. He was leaning, sliding across the seat, grabbing the door for support, standing up - - with
no more volition on his part than it took to fall off a cliff.
"Heyyy ... " The quaver in his voice was real.
"Don't be alarmed, sir. But all instructions of Monitors must be complied with promptly, you
know."
"What is this? I'm an American citizen! What's this all about?"
"American and other national citizenships have been voided," the Monitor said as casually as if
he were giving directions to the men's room. "All citizens of the planet now enjoy equal status
before the Authority."
The other Monitor had walked to the back of the car. He stood there, looking at the license
plate in an offhand way. Blondel felt his stomach tightening.
"Sir," the Monitor said reproachfully, "thirty-seven minutes ago you were requested to stop for
Monitors' counselling, but instead you damaged their vehicle and fled. Please tell me why you did
this."
 "Well, it was like this," Blondel said hastily. "I thought they were stick- up men."
"The vehicle you are driving is registered in the name of Mr. Chico Y. Lipschultz," the Monitor
stated. "Have you his permission to make use of the vehicle?"
"Sure, good old Chick lets me take it any time I like."
"I'll have to ask you to accompany us into the village," the Monitor said. "I'll arrange for the
return of the auto to Mr. Lipschultz."
"What about my date? She'll be expecting me, and has she got a temper!"
The Monitor gave Blondel a sad look, as though he were mildly disappointed. He stepped back,
and Blondel went along to the patrol car without any heelkicking.
They rode in silence for five minutes, past the assortment of Flats Fixed, Clean Rooms, and
Good Eats signs that adorned the approaches to the town. Ahead a heavy- duty traffic light
dangled over an intersection; it changed just as the car reached it. The Monitor at the wheel
worked the stick shift awkwardly, braked. The car bucked, and for an instant his eyes flicked down
toward the dash. Blondel reached, grabbed the man's yellow pillbox cap and yanked it down hard
over his face, then whirled for the door just in time to meet the other Monitor diving forward. The
latter bounced backward into his seat. Blondel shook his head, then slammed the door open and
was out and running.
A pair of whiskery citizens in soiled undershirts and lived- in overalls gave Blondel the full
benefit of four bloodshot eyeballs as he raced past them, but the shock was insufficient to unhook
their thumbs from their shoulder-straps. There was an alley ahead; Blondel cut into it, picked out
a gray board fence fronting it thirty feet along, made a running jump and got a grip on the top
board just before it gave way. He struck on his back with the approximate impact of Steve Brodie
hitting the East River, groped his way to his feet, heard other feet pounding, and tried it the easy
way -- through the gate he hadn't seen the first time.
He was in a weed- grown back yard with a cracked walk leading to a back porch with sagging