"Newman, Kim - The McCarthy Witch Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Newman Kim)

'What are you doing here?'
Finlay looked around, smiling. 'Enjoying the scenery.'
'It's a nice neighbourhood,' Dwight said, leering. He got too much from
gangster movies. 'Real nice.'
'This is my associate, Brother Dwight.'
'Pleased to meetcha,' he said, showing bad teeth.
Like many Inquisitors, Dwight, in his deepest secret heart, wanted carnal
relations with a witch, preferably against her will. He pored over all
those reports the Archbishop had compiled on tantric practices, sweatily
imagining. Dwight would be struck cold if Finlay let him know he'd
perceived the private lust that underlay the public zeal.
Mrs Stevens ignored Dwight. She was smart. She knew Finlay was the one who
counted.
'You have a child, Goodwife Stevens? Tabitha?'
She nodded.
'Strange name. Antique. Like Lilith, or Jezebel. Biblical. This looks a
good neighbourhood for kids.'
She was trying very hard not to get angry.
'Do you go to church?'
'No,' she said, simply. 'Not as you would understand it, Deacon.'
'That's your privilege, your right as a citizen. It's enshrined in the
Constitution.'
She looked over her shoulder, thinking of the child she had left in the
house.
'The Constitution protects us all,' Finlay said.
'... even people like you,' Dwight added, unnecessarily. 'Even ungodly
filth.'
Finlay ignored the fool. 'Do you have animals?'
Mrs Stevens shook her head.
'A cat, perhaps,' Dwight said, grinning again. 'A black cat? Miaooww?'
'Goats?' Finlay asked. 'Chickens?'
There were women in doorways now, under the eaves of little porticos,
faces shadowed. A few kids sat on front lawns, looking on. This was better
than the television, better than Dragnet, Martin Kane, Inquisitor or
Cardinal Video.
Mrs Stevens backed away, stepping onto her lawn, putting the boundary of
her property between them. She would have charms buried in a ring around
the house to ward off ill-fortune.
'Are you aware that it is a misdemeanour to injure or kill livestock in
connection with Satanic ritual?'
The witch looked disgusted. Then interested. Finlay realised she had
noticed something about him, and became self-conscious. She tried not to
be too obvious but she'd sensed something. He always had to remember that
these people had powers. Calmly, he began searching himself. He turned out
his pockets, then felt the inside of his hat. Nothing. This had happened
before. They had to be subtler each time. It was under his suit-coat
lapel, hooked into the material like a fishing fly. He held it up for her
to see. A twist of bone, with a feather embedded in it. Like a tiny quill,
its tip was black with dried blood.
'They keep trying,' Finlay told Mrs Stevens.