"MacLeod, Ian R - Nina" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

IAN R. MacLEOD

NINA-WITH-THE-SKY-IN-HER-HAIR

The man who sold the sky came to see Max when he was finishing breakfast at the
Corienne. It was after nine, before ten; his favorite time of day. The promenade
below his balcony was still in shade. Everything was fresh and cool. Even Nina
was out of bed after staying on at the casino late last night long after he had
left. He could hear her singing in the shower.

Max picked up the hotel phone almost as it rang. A gentleman to see him, the
maitre d' said. Business, something to do with the sky. Max saw to it that
business never reached him here at the Corienne, but still his curiosity was
aroused. He told the maitre to send him up and finished his coffee, watching the
white parasols, listening to the sea.

The visitor was small, dressed in a khaki suit that might once have been cream,
holding a panama in both hands and turning it around by the brim.

"If you're selling," Max said, mopping up the conserve with the last of his
croissant, "I've probably already got it."

"I understand that you are a connoisseur."

"Of what?"

"Of everything."

Max grunted a smile through the crumbs on his lips. It was true enough; when you
ran out of specific, individual things, everything was all you had left. He
said, "I warn you, if you want my money, you'll have to see my accountants. If
you want advice you'll need my lawyers. And they'll both charge."

"I've come to sell you the sky."

Max scratched the gray stubble on his chin. He'd met his fair share of crackpots
over the years. But crackpots were like the rest of the world; good, bad -- and
mostly indifferent.

"That's impossible."

The little man shrugged and made to turn back toward the door.

"Hey!" Max pushed away his breakfast trolley and lifted himself to his feet.
"Don't take it like that. I'm all ears. Really, I'm all ears."

"I have a sample," the little man said, and reached into his pocket.