"Murder In The Solid State" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mccarthy Wil)

"Yes, sir. Much smaller."
"You've patented this technology?"
"Well, yes, the MOCLU and the chain drive. Nobody holds a patent on the basic nanotech idea, although Vandegroot thinks he does. Thought, I mean."
"Is that why you killed him?"
"I didn't! " David snapped, his face growing suddenly hot. Where had that come from?
Puckett leaned back and smiled, a little sheepishly, maybe. "I'm sorry. That's a crude tactic, but sometimes it works. I had this guy last month, hijacked a truck and . . . Well, never mind. Please continue?"
"With what?" David asked, his voice edgy.
"You fought with Otto Vandegroot last night, correct?"
"In front of a million witnesses, yeah. That doesn't mean I killed him afterward. And for the record, I did not break his arm."
Puckett shrugged. "I didn't say you did. I've read the coroner's site report, and it doesn't mention anything about broken bones. The murder weapon was inserted under the base of the skull, just above the first vertebra."
"Yeah," David said sourly, "and it had my fingerprints on it."
"Otto Vandegroot was a famous man. The Sniffer King, you call him, right? Why did you fight with him?"
"I beat him in court recently. He was upset. He'd been drinking. He pulled a sword on me."
"So you pulled one on him?"
"No!" David snarled, jerking slightly at his chains. "Damn it, how many times do I have to say this? It was not my sword. Somebody pressed it into my hand."
"Who?"
"I don't know. I wasn't watching when it happened."
"Looks like nobody was; the eyewitness accounts don't mention it."
"It happened."
"Well, witnesses don't always see everything, and they don't always tell everything. I'll ask around. Have you ever owned a drop foil?"
David shook his head. "I don't even know how to use one. I've never taken a fencing class."
"You won the fight," Puckett said, leadingly.
"Not with the sword. I twisted his arm until he fell over."
"Are you trained in martial arts?"
"Street Defense is mandatory at U of Phil. Too many muggings, too many rapes. That training really sinks in, though. I didn't mean to hurt him, but he was an asshole, and I was upset."
"Understandably," Mike Puckett allowed. "Look, we seem to be going ten directions at once, here. Why don't we cool off for a minute, and then take the whole thing from the top again, OK?"
David licked his lips. "How many times am I going to tell this story?"
"You've been watching too many movies," Puckett said reassuringly. "These days, testimony from a suspect is not very useful to us. Too many gray areas, too many civil rights issues. For the most part, we let the physical evidence speak for itself."
"But the physical evidence points to me!" David protested.
"Well, that's why I'd like to hear your side of things. It may help my investigation."
David definitely didn't like the sound of that; from Puckett's tone and manner, it was clear there were no plans for his release.
"I don't like the way this is going," he said, sitting up straighter. "I want my phone call. My lawyer's in Philly right now, name of T. Bowser Jones. I'm not saying another word until I hear from him."
A look stole across Mike Puckett's face, just a flicker of emotion that came and went in half a moment. If that's the way you want to play it, the look had said, /'// just pack up my sympathetic ear and do this by the book. Too bad, really, because I was starting to believe you.
"Of course," Puckett said, standing, picking up the recorder, and returning it to his pocket. "You're well within your rights. I'll see that the arrangements are made."
The agent's face was far less open than it had previously been.




CHAPTER FIVE

A vidcell phone was set up in front of David, on the table just out of his reach. Numbers were punched. Tones sounded, and an image appeared.
"Bowser?" said David.
The officers, whose looks and voices went right through David as if he were part of the furniture, left the room, clicking the door very solidly shut behind them.
"Hey, buddy," said the face on the vidphone screen. Bowser appeared to be looking up at David through a distorting lens, making eye contact only intermittently; something out of view seemed to require much of his attention. The colors were weak, the image jerky. Shadows played weirdly across Bowser's face, and his voice came in with a background hiss that the noise filters couldn't quite take care of. "I hear you're in a bit of trouble."
"Bowser?" David said again. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way; I'm on the interstate. It's about time you asked for me-I've been calling every ten minutes for the past couple hours, but they wouldn't put me through. Hyeon Chong is my only info source, but he doesn't know much. Have you talked to him yet?"
"To Henry?"
Bowser laughed. "I'll take that as a 'no.' He's there in the building with you, chewing his nails in the waiting room. I've also called your parents, by the way, and I left a message on Marian's machine. So that old fuck Vandegroot got switched off, did he?"
Words began tumbling from David's open mouth. "Bowser, I'm in jail. They think I killed Big Otto, and they're asking me all these questions. ... I'm supposed to be presenting at the conference today. I'm supposed to ... God damn, you've got to get me out of here. Can you do that?"