"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 03 - Jewel of Tharn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

J said: "Yes, sir. Twice. To Alb and to Cath. The first time it was an accident. Something went wrong
with the computer experiment. The second time it was deliberate. The third time-well, sir, that's why
we're here."

The PM rifled the file of papers with his fingers. "Yes. You want a white card, an imprimo, a `let this be
done.' You also want a million pounds."

Silence. Lord Leighton closed his eyes altogether. J took the hint. He was now carrying the ball. As it
should be. His Lordship knew little of officialdom and how things got done in a democracy.

J stuffed his pipe with crude sailor's roughcut, not taking his eyes from those of the PM.

"Yes, sir. That just about sums it up. We want your signature on a piece of paper. Carte blanche. And
we do want the million pounds. With no questions asked in Parliament. I am sure you realize, sir, that this
matter is of life or death importance to England. So far, incredible as it may seem, only four people in the
world know about it! Lord Leighton, myself, you, sir, and Richard Blade. But if we intend to exploit this
thing, sir, and implement the decisions we are obviously going to have to make, based on the discoveries
that Blade makes, we cannot maintain this type of cabalistic secrecy. We must expand, call in other
people, a lot of them, and that is going to be an awesome task, sir, from the security viewpoint. I think I
can handle it, but it is going to take money. A great deal of money."

The PM stared down at the sheaf of papers. Hs drank a little more brandy. Then: "It is just possible that
I can get the money. There is a fund-I suppose it is still extant-that was set up during the war." He gave J
a tired smile. "It would have to be something like that, of course. Not only in the interests of secrecy, but
plain common sense. If I were to go before the House and ask for money for-for a project like this-they
would have me in a straitjacket in no time "

Lord Leighton opened his eyes "Then you'll give us the money-and the white card?"

For a moment the PM did not answer. The brandy snifter was empty now, but he did not reach for the
decanter nearby. He tapped the glass with a finger and a chiming little note shivered for a moment in the
silence and died away.

The PM picked up a flimsy and read from it.

"Possibilities of exploitation of inter-dimensional travel. Hmmm. Possible mass teleportation of surplus
population. Colonization of newly discovered dimensions instead of, or in addition to, the moon and
planets. Possible mass teleportation of precious minerals, not gold. We all know what that means, don't
we? Hmmm. Possible cultural exchanges? I confess that I don't really know what is meant by that."

Lord Leighton blinked his yellow eyes. "Simply means that the more we understand about this universe,
and the dimensions of it, the less chance that we'll blow the whole bloody thing to hell. That's what it
means."

The PM read silently now. J watched and could feel sympathy with the man who headed the British
Government. J still didn't quite believe it. Not really. Not absolutely. Not even in this age of
commonplace miracles. J was of the wrong generation. He knew it. A teenager would accept Leighton's
miracle with a bored "so what," and wonder what the fuss was all about. J kept thinking that he was
going to wake up.
 When the PM had finished reading he put the papers down and walked to an escritoire in a corner. He