"George R. R. Martin - WC 4 - Aces Abroad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

"Amaretto."
"Amaretto for the lady there."
The waiter sidled up to Chrysalis and slipped the glass out from in front of her
without making eye contact. She could feel his fear. It was funny, in a way,
that someone could be afraid of her, but it angered her as well, almost as much
as the guilt in Tachyon's eyes every time he looked at her. Tachyon ran his
fingers dramatically through his long, curly red hair. "There wasn't much
incidence of wild card virus that I could see." He fell silent, sighed gustily.
"And Tessier himself wasn't overly concerned about it. But everyting else ... by
the Ideal, everything else. . ."
"What do you mean?" Peregrine asked.
"You were there. That hospital was as crowded as a Jokertown bar on Saturday
night and about as sanitary. Typhus patients were cheek to jowl with
tuberculosis patients and elephantiasis patients and AIDS patients and patients
suffering from half a hundred other diseases that have been eradicated
everywhere else in the civilized world. As I was having a private chat with the
hospital administrator, the electricity went out twice. I tried to call the
hotel, but the phones weren't working. Dr. Tessier told me that they're low on
blood, antibiotics, painkillers, and just about all medicinals. Fortunately,
Tessier and many of the other doctors are masters at utilizing the medicinal



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properties of native Haitian flora. Tessier showed me a thing or two he's done
with distillations from common weeds and such that was remarkable. In fact,
someone should write an article on the drugs they've concocted. Some of their
discoveries deserve widespread attention in the outside world. But for all their
efforts, all their dedication, they're still losing the fight." The waiter
brought Tachyon's drink in a tall slim glass garnished with slices of fresh
fruit and a paper umbrella. Tachyon threw out the fruit and paper umbrella and
swallowed half his drink in a single gulp. " I have never seen such misery and
suffering."
"Welcome to the Third World," Ray said.
"Indeed." Tachyon finished off his drink and fixed Chrysalis with his
lilac-colored eyes.
"Now, what was that disturbance in front of the hotel?" Chrysalis shrugged. "The
driver started beating the beggars with a stick-"
"A cocomacaques."
"I beg your pardon?" Tachyon said, turning to Ray. "It's called a cocomacaques.
It's a walking stick, polished with oil. Hard as an iron bar. A real nasty
weapon." There was approval in Ray's voice. "The Tonton Macoute carry them."
"What?" three voices asked simultaneously.
Ray smiled a smile of superior knowledge. "Tonton Macoute. That's what the
peasants call them. Essentially means `bogeyman.' Officially they're called the
VSN, the Volontaires de la Securite Nationale." Ray had an atrocious accent.
"They're Duvalier's secret police, headed by a man named Charlemagne Calixte.
He's black as a coal mine at midnight and ugly as sin. Somebody tried to poison