"Norton, Andre - Time Traders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

an old hand--he probably expected some reaction other than passive acceptance from the prisoner,
but he was not going to get it.
The law had Ross sewed up tight this time. Why didn't they get about the business of shipping him
off? Why had he had that afternoon session with the psychologist? Ross had been on the defensive
then, and he hadn't liked it. He had given to the other's questions all the attention his shrewd mind
could muster, but a faint, very faint, apprehension still clung to the memory of that meeting.
The door of the detention room opened. Ross did not turn his head, but the guard cleared his throat
as if their hour of mutual silence had dried his vocal cords. "On your feet, Murdock! The judge wants
to see you."
Ross rose smoothly, with every muscle under fluid control. It never paid to talk back, to allow any
sign of defiance to show. He would go through the motions as if he were a bad little boy who had
realized his errors. The meek-and-mild act had paid off fine in Ross's checkered past. So he faced the
man seated behind the desk in the other room with an uncertain, diffident smile, standing with boyish
awkwardness, respectfully waiting for the other to speak first. Judge Ord Rawle. It was his rotten luck
to pull old Eagle Beak on his case. Well, he would simply have to take it when the old boy dished it
out. Not that he had to remain stuck with it later . . .
"You have a bad record, young man."
Ross allowed his smile to fade; his shoulders slumped. But under concealing lids his eyes showed
an instant of cold defiance.
"Yes, sir," he agreed in a voice carefully cultivated to shake convincingly about the edges. Then
suddenly all Ross's pleasure in the skill of his act was wiped away. Judge Rawle was not alone; that
blasted skull thumper was sitting there, watching the prisoner with the same keenness he had shown
the other day.
"A very bad record for the few years you have had to make it." Eagle Beak was staring at him, too,
but without the same look of penetration, luckily for Ross. "By rights, you should be turned over to
the new Rehabilitation Service . . ."
Ross froze inside. That was the "treatment," icy rumors of which had spread throughout his
particular world. For the second time since he had entered the room his self-confidence was jarred.
Then he clung with a degree of hope to the phrasing of that last sentence.
"Instead, I have been directed to offer you a choice, Murdock. One which I shall state--and on
record--I do not in the least approve."
Ross's twinge of fear faded. If the judge didn't like it, there must be something in it to the
advantage of Ross Murdock. He'd grab it for sure!
"There is a government project in need of volunteers. It seems that you have tested out as possible
material for this assignment. If you sign for it, the law will consider the time spent on it as part of
your sentence. Thus you may aid the country which you have heretofore disgraced--"
"And if I refuse, I go to this rehabilitation. Is that right, sir?"
"I certainly consider you a fit candidate for rehabilitation. Your record--" He shuffled through the
papers on his desk.
"I choose to volunteer for the project, sir."
The judge snorted and pushed all the papers into a folder. He spoke to a third man who'd been
waiting in the shadows. "Here then is your volunteer, Major."
Ross bottled in his relief. He was over the first hump. And since his luck had held so far, he might
be about to win all the way . . .
The man Judge Rawle called "Major" moved into the light. At first glance Ross, to his hidden
annoyance, found himself uneasy. To face up to Eagle Beak was all part of the game. But somehow
he sensed one did not play such games with this man.
"Thank you, your honor. We will be on our way at once, before the weather socks us in
completely."
Before he realized what was happening, Ross found himself walking meekly to the door. He