"Dead Men Walking" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

УThe warden? Really?Ф
Willy grinned. УIТm pulling your chain. But seriously, IТve done a little
research about these things. TheyТre not only stone killers: theyТre also real
good at disguising themselves. The assassin could be any one of us. The warden,
you, me, anyone. Unless this thing makes a mistake, we havenТt got a hope of
catching it. All we can do is what weТre already doingЧdeploy more security
drones, keep the prisoners locked down when they arenТt working, and pray that
thatТll keep a lid on any unrest until that team arrives.Ф
УI guess youТre right,Ф I said.
УDonТt try to be a hero, my brother. Not even hypothetically.Ф
УAbsolutely not,Ф I said.
But one of WillyТs remarks had given me an idea about how to reach out to the
assassin, and my mind was already racing, grappling with what I had to do.
* * * *
I decided that if the assassin really was keeping an eye on the people who were
hacking into the files, then he (or at least, his demon), must be lurking in the
root directory of the data system. That was where I left an encrypted message
explaining what I was and why I wanted to talk, attached to a demon that would
attempt to trace anyone who looked at it. The demon phoned me six hours later,
in the middle of the night. Someone had spotted my sign and wanted to talk.
The demon had failed to identify the person who wanted to talk, and it was
infected with something, too: a simple communication program. I checked it out,
excised a few lines of code that would have revealed my location, and fired it
up. It connected me to a blank, two-dimensional space in which words began to
appear, emerging letter by letter, traveling from right to left and fading away.
you got rid of the trace function. pretty good for an old guyЧif thatТs what you
really are.
they trained us well, I typed.
you think you know what i am. you think that i am like you.
Whoever was at the other end of the program wanted to get straight down to
business. That suited me, but I knew that I couldnТt let him take the lead.
we are both children of the vat, I typed. thatТs why I reached out to you.
thatТs why i want to help you.
There was a pause as my correspondent thought this over.
you could be a trap.
the message got your attention because it is hardwired into your visual cortex,
just as it is hardwired into mine.
that kind of thing is no longer the secret it once was, but letТs say that i
believe youЕ
A black disc spun in the blank space for less than a second, its strobing black
light flashing a string of letters and numbers, gone.
do you know where that is?
I realized that the letters and numbers burnt into my brain were a grid
reference.
i can find it.
meet me in four hours. i have a little business to take care of first.
It was the middle of the night; the time when the assassin did his work.
please donТt kill anyone else until we have talked.
My words faded. There was no reply.
* * * *