"Paul Levinson - Loose Ends (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Levinson Paul)

time, he'd barely have an hour to get to the Book Depository and
stop the killing.
***
The bed in the International was unexpectedly comfortable,
though the room like the airport terminal had some faintly
artificial smell. Jeff fell soundly asleep, and dreamed he was
in a classroom giving his "Earth Was Never Room Enough" talk
while Dion's "Abraham, Martin, and John" played in the
background. Rena sat in the front with her legs seductively
crossed, but her face looked a lot like Sandra Dee's. He could
hear someone talking just outside the classroom, going on and
on and utterly ignoring his lecture. It was James C. Fletcher,
NASA administrator who had had the most to do with the shuttle
program. Jeff was screaming at his students to pay attention
when the phone rang.
He fumbled with the ungainly receiver and dropped it. Then
he smacked himself in the mouth with it. "Hello," he finally
managed, rubbing his eyes and looking in vain for the viewer.
"Good morning, Dr. Harris! Five thirty wake-up call!" a
female sing-song voice chimed merrily.
"Thanks." Jeff replaced the receiver with great effort and
sat up. He rubbed his sore lips and fought off the impulse to
go back to sleep for just another 15 minutes. He could sleep
for 15 days the way he felt, but he dragged his body out of bed
and quickly dressed. Last night's businessman with maybe a blue
knit tie to go with the grey wool suit would do fine.
The coffee house was a zoo. He hadn't much appetite, but
forced himself to eat the soggy eggs for strength. Looking
around, he realized again that there was a lot he didn't like
about this place. Historians like their history from the safety
and convenience of the future -- the past on a platter with all
the comforts of home. Not like this...
"Excuse me, sir." The waitress startled Jeff as she leaned
over with the check. "That's an interesting bracelet you've got
on there. My husband's a jeweler, and I don't think I've ever
seen anything like it."
"Uh, thank you." Jeff glanced down at his watch, scooped
up the check, and quickly left the table. "My, uh, kid's
studying electronics," he said half over his shoulder, "and it's
something he designed for me." Great. He'd been wearing this
flector for six years now, and with all the departure commotion
yesterday he'd forgotten to take it off. Hustling to Delta
Departures, he removed the silver sliver from its embed on his
wrist and placed it in a side compartment of the suitcase. Then
he took out the clunky Timex analog someone had given him, and
stopped a moment to set it and strap it on his wrist. He shook
his head in self-disgust. First the future bills he was handing
out everywhere like candy, and now this. The money he had no
choice about, but the flector was sheer stupidity on his part.
He sighed. It didn't really matter. If by some wild luck