"Chad Oliver - Blood's a Rover" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oliver Chad)

тАЬLang,тАЭ he said to himself, тАЬyouтАЩre headed for the giggle ward.тАЭ
He smiled then, knowing it wasnтАЩt so. Imagination was a prime requisite for his job, and he just had
more than his share. It got in the way sometimes, but it was a part of him and that was that.
Conan Lang waded through a battery of attendants and security personnel and finally reached the
Nest. He opened the door and stepped into the small, dark room. There, behind the desk where he
always was, perched the Buzzard.
тАЬHello, Dr. Gottleib,тАЭ said Conan Lang.
The man behind the desk eyed him silently. His name was Fritz Gottleib, but he had been tagged the
Buzzard long ago. No one used the name to his face, and it was impossible to tell whether or not the
name amused him. He spoke but seldom, and his appearance, even after you got used to it, was startling.
Fritz Gottleib was squat and completely bald. He always dressed in black and his heavy eyebrows were
like horizontal splashes of ink against the whiteness of his face. The Buzzard analogy, thought Conan
Lang, was more than understandable; it was inevitable. The man sat high in his tower, in his Nest of
controls, brooding over a machine that perhaps he alone fully understood. Alone. He always seemed
alone, no matter how many people surrounded him. His was a life apart, a life whose vital force pulsed in
the shifting lights of the tubes of a great machine.
тАЬDr. Lang,тАЭ he acknowledged, unmoving, his voice sibilant, almost a hiss.
Conan Lang puffed on his pipe and dropped into the chair across from Gottleib. He had dealt with
the Buzzard before and most of the shock had worn off. You could get used to anything, he supposed.
Man was a very adaptable animal.
тАЬThe smoke doesnтАЩt bother you, I hope?тАЭ
 Gottleib did not comment. He simply stared at him, his dark eyes unblinking. Like looking at a piece
of meat, thought Conan Lang.
тАЬWell,тАЭ he said, trying again, тАЬI guess you know what IтАЩm here for.тАЭ
тАЬYou waste words,тАЭ Fritz Gottleib hissed.
тАЬI hadnтАЩt realized they were in short supply,тАЭ Lang replied, smiling. The Buzzard was irritating, but he
could see the justice in the manтАЩs remark. It was curious the number of useless things that were said all
the timeтАФuseless, at any rate, from a purely communicative point of view. It would have been sheerly
incredible for GottleibтАФwho after all had been checking his results in the computerтАФnot to have known
the nature of his mission.
тАЬO.K.,тАЭ said Lang, тАЬwhatтАЩs the verdict?тАЭ
Fritz Gottleib fingered a square card in his surprisingly long-fingered hands, seeming to hover over it
like a bird of prey.
тАЬIt checks out,тАЭ he said sibilantly, his voice low and hard to hear. тАЬYour plan will achieve the desired
transfer in Sirius Ten, and the transfer integrates positively with the Plan.тАЭ
тАЬAnything else? Anything I should know?тАЭ
тАЬWe should all know many more things than we do, Dr. Lang.тАЭ
тАЬUm-m-m. But that was all the machine said with respect to my proposed plan of operations?тАЭ
тАЬThat was all.тАЭ
Conan Lang sat back, watching Gottleib. A strange man. But he commanded respect.
тАЬIтАЩd like to get hold of that baby sometime,тАЭ he said easily. тАЬIтАЩve got a question or two of my own.тАЭ
тАЬSometimes it is best not to know the answers to oneтАЩs questions, Dr. Lang.тАЭ
тАЬNo. But IтАЩd like to have a shot at it all the same. DonтАЩt tell the security boys I said that; theyтАЩd string
me up by the toes.тАЭ
тАЬPerhaps one day, Dr. Lang. When you are old like me.тАЭ
Conan Lang stood up, cupping his pipe in his hand. тАЬI guess thatтАЩs all,тАЭ he said.
тАЬYes,тАЭ said Fritz Gottleib.
тАЬSee you around.тАЭ
No answer. Cold shadows seemed to fill the room.
Conan Lang turned and left the way he had come. Behind him, drilling into his back, he could feel the