"Larry Niven - ARM UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

УWait a minute. ThereТs a problem.Ф
He looked at me. So did the cop with the fishing pole.
УThat switch could be a self-destruct. Sinclair was supposed to be a secretive bastard. Or the. . . field might hold considerable potential energy. Something might go blooey.Ф
Ordaz sighed. УWe must risk it. Gil, we have measured the rotation of the dead manТs wristwatch. One hour per seven seconds. Fingerprints, footprints, laundry marks, residual body odor, stray eyelashesЧall disappearing at an hour per seven seconds.Ф He gestured, and the cop moved in and began trying to hook the switch.
УAlready we may never know just when he was killed,Ф said Ordaz.
The tip of the pole wobbled in large circles, steadied beneath the switch, made contact. I held my breath. The pole bowed. The switch snapped up, and suddenly the violet glow was gone. Valpredo reached into the field warily, as if the air might be red-hot. Nothing happened, and he relaxed.
Then Ordaz began giving orders, and quite a lot happened. Two men in lab coats drew a chalk outline around the mummy and the poker. They moved the mummy onto a stretcher, put the poker in a plastic bag, and put it next to the mummy.
I said, УHave you identified that?Ф
УIТm afraid so,Ф said Ordaz. УRaymond Sinclair had his own autodoc.Ф
УDid he? Those things are expensive.Ф
УYes. Raymond Sinclair was a wealthy man. He owned the top two floors of this building, and the roof. According to records in his Сdoc, he had a new set of bud teeth implanted two months ago.Ф Ordaz pointed to the mummy, to the skinned-back dry lips and the buds of new teeth that were just coming in.
Right. That was Sinclair.
That brain had made miracles, and someone had smashed it with a wrought-iron rod. The intersteller driveЧthat glowing goldberg device? Or had it been still inside his head?
I said, УWeТll have to get whoever did it. WeТll have to. Even so . . .У Even so. No more miracles.
УWe may have her already,Ф Julio said.
I looked at him.
УThere is a girl in the autodoc. We think she is Dr. SinclairТs greatniece.Ф

It was a standard drugstore autodoc, a thing like a giant coffin with walls a foot thick and a headboard covered with dials and red and green lights. The girl lay face-up, her face calm, her breathing shallow. Sleeping Beauty. Her arms were in the guts of the Сdoc, hidden by bulky rubbery sleeves.
She was lovely enough to stop my breath. Soft brown hair showing around the electrode cap; small, perfect nose and mouth; smooth pale-blue skin shot with silver threads.
That last was an evening dye job. Without it the impact of her would have been much lessened. The blue shade varied slightly to emphasize the shape of her body and the curve of her cheekbones. The silver lines varied too, being denser in certain areas, guiding the eye in certain directionsЧto the tips of her breasts, or across the slight swell of abdominal muscle to a lovely oval navel.
SheТd paid high for that dye job. But she would be beautiful without it.
Some of the headboard lights were red. I punched for a readout, and was jolted. The Сdoc had been forced to amputate her right arm. Gangrene.
She was in for a hell of a shock when she woke up.
УAll right,Ф I said. УSheТs lost her arm. That doesnТt make her a killer.Ф
Ordaz asked, УIf she were homely, would it help?Ф
1 laughed. УYou question my dispassionate judgment? Men have
died for less!Ф Even so, I thought he could be right. There was good reason to think that the killer was now missing an arm.
УWhat do you think happened here, Gil?Ф
УWell . . . any way you look at it, the killer had to want to take SinclairТs . . . ah . . . time machine with him. ItТs priceless, for one thing. For another, it looks like he tried to set it up as an alibi. Which means that he knew about it before he came here.Ф IТd been thinking this through. УSay he made sure some people knew where he was a few hours before he got here. He killed Sinclair within range of the
call it a generator. Turned it on. He figured SinclairТs own watch would tell him how much time he was gaining. Afterward he could set the watch back and leave with the generator. ThereТd be no way the police could tell that Sinclair wasnТt killed six hours earlier, or any number you like.Ф
УYes. But he did not do that.Ф
УThere was that line hanging from the switch. He must have turned it on from outside the fieldЧprobably because he didnТt want to sit with the body for six hours. after heТd turned it on, heТd bump his nose. ItТd be like trying to walk through a wall, going from field time to normal time. So he turned it off, stepped out of range, and used that nylon line to turn it on again. He probably made the same mistake Valpredo did: he thought he could step back in and turn it off.Ф
Ordaz nodded in satisfaction. УExactly. It was very important for himЧor herЧto do that. Otherwise he would have no alibi and no profit. If he continued to try to reach into the fieldЧФ
УYah, he could lose the arm to gangrene. ThatТd be convenient for us, wouldnТt it? HeТd be easy to find. But, look, Julio, the girl could have done the same thing to herself trying to help Sinclair. He might not have been that obviously dead when she got home.Ф
УHe might even have been alive,Ф Ordaz pointed out.
I shrugged.
УIn point of fact, she came home at one-ten, in her own car, which is still in the carport. There are cameras mounted to cover the landing pad and carport. Dr. SinclairТs security was thorough. This girl was the only arrival last night. There were no departures.Ф
УFrom the roof, you mean.Ф
УGil, there are only two ways to leave these apartments. One is from the roof, and the other is by elevator, from the lobby. The elevator is on this floor, and it was turned off. It was that way when we
arrived. There is no way to override that control from elsewhere in this building.Ф
УSo someone could have taken it up here and turned it off afterward . . . or Sinclair could have turned it off before he was killed. . . . I see what you mean. Either way, the killer has to be still here.Ф I thought about that. I didnТt like its taste. УNo, it doesnТt fit. How could she be bright enough to work out that alibi, then dumb enough to lock herself in with the body?Ф
Ordaz shrugged. УShe locked the elevator before killing her greatuncle. She did not want to be interrupted. Surely that was sensible? After she hurt her arm, she must have been in a great hurry to reach the Сdoe.Ф
One of the red lights turned green. I was glad for that. She didnТt look like a kifier. I said, half to myself, УNobody looks like a killer when heТs asleep.Ф
УNo. But she is where a killer ought to be. Quщ lсstima.Ф

We went back to the living room. I called ARM headquarters and had them send a truck.
The machine hadnТt been touched. While we waited I borrowed a camera from Valpredo and took pictures of the setup in situ. Relative positions of the components might be important.
The lab men were in the brown grass using aerosol sprays to turn fingerprints white and give a vivid yellow glow to faint traces of blood. They got plenty of fingerprints on the machine, none at all on the poker. There was a puddle of yellow in the grass where the mummyТs head had been, and a long yellow snail track ending at the business end of the poker. It looked like someone had tried to drag the poker out of the field after it had fallen.
SinclairТs apartments were roomy and comfortable and occupied the entire top floor. The lower floor was the laboratory where Sinclair had produced his miracles. I went through it with Valpredo. It wasnТt that impressive. It looked like an expensive hobby setup. These tools would assemble components already fabricated, but they would not build anything complex.