"Ward Moore - It Becomes Necessary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Ward)

they need us because a refugee is only half a man. Go back to London and say you've changed your
mind and you'll work with them. Just tip us off to what they're doing. That's all; no fireworks, no rough
stuff, nobody hurt on either side, everything settled nice and smoothly."

"And the Defenders will continue to run the United States as a dictatorship?"

"There's still a vote, isn't there? And Congress can yak."

"And pass laws which the Defender-in-Chief supersedes with new Regulations."

"The Defender-in-Chief isn't going to resign and turn the job over to you, if that's what you want, but
there's bound to be some easing up."

"All through now?"

"Let's say I've reached a comma."
 "All right. No."

"Now, let's not paint ourselves into cornersтАФ"

"Good-by. I can't say it's been nice knowing you, because it hasn't. Or that you've clarified my
thinking, because I'm afraid it's as soupy as ever. But good-by, anyway."

The greedy fingers closed over hers. "You're hysterical, kid. You're making a mistake and
youтАФsomehow, somewhere, in your subconsciousтАФ"

Maggie winced. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. "Unconscious," she corrected, hearing in
the primness of her voice an echo of exactly what made the opponents of the Defenders ineffective.

"Okay, okay. In your unconscious, you know it. What you need is to simmer down and look at
things coolly. Let's go somewhere quietтАФI hate these frog sidewalk jointsтАФand talk everything over.
Have a real get-together. I've got a room тАж"

She could visualize the whole scene. If he triedтАФIf he raped her, she would lie still and docile.
Maybe afterward she would kill him (how?), JudithтАФor was it Jael? тАФand Holofernes. But during the
act she would be complacent.

His hand jerked away. "The damn frogs are coming back and they have the makings of an army with
them."

She looked over her shoulder. A crowd, a mob, not ledтАФno, certainly not led, but he was there,
near the front, thrown up and forwardтАФby the beautiful young man. His older, calmer friend wasn't in
evidence. Clearly they had been assembled, drilled, directed, outfitted, rehearsed by some demented
escapee from the lushest days of Hollywood; some man with a limp and a milky eye, gray stubble and
beret, who in a Montmartre garret made nightly obeisance with a lipped cigarette to Griffith and Von
Stroheim. There was a United Nations flagтАФa faded one whose tatters had been mended with coarse
threadтАФtied to a bamboo stick (now I know what happens to the poles those old men fishing along the
Seine use; they become implements of riot) and a large placard, VIVE LA FORCE TROISI├ИME.

They didn't seem in a particularly ugly or vicious mood. Rather they were like adolescents escaping