"Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle - Lucifer ' s Hammer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

itself. On the porch stood eight parking attendants, agile young men in red jackets.

Hamner left the motor running and got out of the car. The "key left" reminder screamed at him.
Ordinarily Tim would have snarled a powerful curse upon Ralph Nader's hemorrhoids, but tonight he
never noticed. His eyes were dreamy; his hand patted at his coat pocket, then stole inside. The
parking attendant hesitated. People didn't usually tip until they were leaving. Hamner kept
walking, dreamy eyed, and the attendant drove away.

Hamner glanced back at the red coated young men, wondering if one or another might be interested
in astronomy. They were almost always from UCLA or Loyola University. Could be . . . Reluctantly
he decided against it and went inside, his hand straying from time to time to feel the telegram
crackle under his fingers.

The big double doors opened onto an enormous area that extended right through the house. Large
arches, rimmed by red brick, separated the entry from the living areas: a mere suggestion of walls
between rooms. The floor was continuous throughout: brown tile laid with bright mosaic patterns.
Of the two hundred and more guests expected, fewer than a dozen were clustered near the bar. Their
talk was bright and cheery, louder than necessary. They looked isolated in all that empty space,
all that expanse of tables with candles and patterned tablecloths. There were nearly as many
uniformed attendants as guests. Hamner noticed none of this. He'd grown up with it.




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Julia Sutter broke from the tiny group of guests and hurried to meet him. There was a tight look
around her eyes: Her face had been lifted, and was younger than her hands. She made a kissing
motion a fraction of an inch from Tim's cheek and said, "Timmy, I'm glad to see you!" Then she
noticed his radiant smile.

She drew back a little and her eyes narrowed. The note of mock concern in her voice covered real
worry. "My God, Timmy! What have you been smoking?"

Tim Hamner was tall and bony, with just a touch of paunch to break the smooth lines. His long face
was built for melancholy. His mother's family had owned a highly successful cemetery mortuary, and
it showed. Tonight, though, his face was cracked wide apart in a blazing smile, and there was a
strange light in his eyes. He said, "The Hamner Brown Comet!"

"Oh!" Julia stared. "What?" That didn't make sense. You don't smoke a comet. She tried to puzzle
it out while her eyes roved to her husband├Сwas he having a second drink already?├Сto the door├Сwhen
were the others coming? The invitations had been explicit. The important guests were coming
early├Сweren't they?├Сand couldn't stay late, and├С

She heard the low purr of a big car outside, and through the narrow windows framing the door saw
half a dozen people spilling out of a dark limousine. Tim would have to take care of himself. She
patted his arm and said, "That's nice, Timmy. Excuse me, please?" A hasty intimate smile and she
was gone.