"George R. R. Martin - WC 8 - One Eyed Jacks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

REMF in razor-creased tiger stripes'd slick up from Saigon to collect him.
Standard excuse was to evac him to a special joker medical facility. Made sense
actually-at least, most bought it since our regular quarters were in quarantine
zone. Problem was, this `facility' seemed to be located an hour's flight out
across the South China Sea. No muss, no fuss, just a thousand-foot-high dive
into a telegram home to Momma. 'Cept Cody, she didn't buy it. Man showed up on
her doorstep, she told him to fuck off. Man brought some Saigon khakis to back
him up..." Finn looked confused.
"Upper-echelon staff officers from MACV headquarters," Cody told him.
"... damn if she didn't have a couple of network camera crews on hand doing
interviews. Made sure they got pictures of the Man, made sure they had her
records of the casualties. Any funny business, no way could it be kept quiet.
Man backed down, did a rabbit. After that, you were a joker and you got hit, you
moved heaven and earth to get to Cody's doorstep. It was like she was
magic--nobody ever died on her table."
"I'm afraid, Scent, that string's gone down the drain." Along, she thought, with
a lot of other things. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why am I here?
Maybe I'm confused about my New York geography but from what I remember of the
subway map, isn't Blythe klicks from that station I was in? Aren't there closer
hospitals?"_
Finn spoke: "All 911 was sure of was some sort of wild-card activity at the
Lex-Third Avenue station. And, I'm afraid, your reactions to the medics sort of
spooked them. They figured they had a manifestation on their hands. Procedure in
those cases is, everything comes to Blythe."
"You were on your way here anyway, right?" Scent chimed in.,
"Lucky me," Cody agreed, but with a bite to her words. Scent chose not to take
the hint.
"That's right, Major. If there was ever a right move to make, you made it.
That's luck in my book."
"The train, Finn." He looked quizzically at her. "There was a transit officer,"
she explained, "a woman, who helped me. . ."
"Haven't heard any reports, but there's no reason why we should. I can run a
check, though."
"Please, do. There was a... creature on the train. Looked like a joker, but. .
." She paused, shuddering at the memory. "I don't know, I keep thinking there
was a sense of something...." Her voice trailed off and for a moment she felt
lost, trying to sort images and memories that refused to stay still, conscious
only of a need to run that bordered on panic.
"Can I get out of here, please?" she asked. "And if possible, is there someplace
I can tidy up before I see Dr. Tachyon?"
"Residents have a crash pad, upstairs," Scent said, not giving Finn a chance to


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answer, "where they grab some stray z's when they're tannin' long shifts-I'll
take you."
"There really is trouble, Scent," she told him as they rode the elevator up two
flights.