"Barry N. Malzberg - The Market In Aliens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Malzberg Barry N)

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred what?"
"Dollars," I said. Black was my contact at Inter; I had sold him eight aliens at more or less fair prices.
Nevertheless, all that sentiment aside, he could drop dead most of the time, as far as I'm concerned.

"Oh. I thought you meant five hundred cents. At that level, we might have something to talk about, for
taxidermic purposes anyway. But I can't use it, Harry. We can't move the stock we got. I tell you, the
word is out on these things, now with the research. We don't know what we've hooked into."

"Three hundred," I said, cutting out my own viewscreen, letting Black drift in uncertainty for a few
moments, a legitimate business technique. "For you. Just for the turnover. Hell, I got him at 275 so you
can see that I'm practically crying."

"No, Harry. Speaking seriously, I probably could take him off your hands at 150, maybe 175 if he
shapes up. We could sneak it through. But I couldn't ask you to take a loss like that, could I? A friend is
a friend. Try Franchise."

"I will if I have to. But I don't like Franchise. I consider you my closest friend in this business, Black. Just
to keep that relationship alive, I'll let you have him at cost price. All right, say 250. Just to have the lines
opened." I had bought the alien for 100, and the auctioneer had been practically begging for that figure;
Black was right about the bottom having fallen out. Nevertheless, I hated to concede a point. It was the
first step to losing money, and I hadn't lost a cent on the freaks yet. Not one. And not ever.

Black sighed and put his viewscreen on again, gave me a good view of some cigarette-work. "200," he
said, "and you'll have to deliver, and the beast better pass."

"225 and you make the pickup. And he'll pass. He was trying to sing me a lecture in there before."

Black showed me some smoke. "210 and I'll make pickup."



┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖



"Done," I said, and flipped on my own viewscreen, projected some sensitive profile-action. "How soon
you be over?"

"We'll have a crew in about half an hour. You better get it sedated, Harry. Some of the crews are getting
nervous about this whole business, now. I don't want any of that whistling."

"Leave it to me."

"Don't overdoes him now."

"Don't worry about a thing," I said. "I treat them right. He's in perfect shape and he'll stay that way, and
he'll be quiet as the tomb on the way over. You'll have the usual certificate for me, won't you?"