" Perry Rhodan 0090 - (82) Atlan in Danger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Above-average gift of deduction combined with prophetic sensitivity to the extreme importance of
apparently insignificant reports.

Frank Lemmon had arrived one hour late for work. Upon awakening he had already been horrified at
the prospect of another boring day. When he got out of bed with that feeling the whole day at work was
useless, so he regularly approached this fact with laziness and did not even take care of a few important
items.

But Solar Marshal Alan D. Mercant, Head of the Security Service, never reproached his Section Head,
Frank Lemmon, on this account. Mercant was very good at weighing the merits of his co-workers
against their shortcomings and in LemmonтАЩs case his ability to instantly discern the significance of
incoming reports far outweighed his laziness.

Lemmon was slurping his strong, hot coffee with great relish as the viewcom flashed on. The slender,
24-year-old section head hardly glanced at it. Dispatches from Washington, Peking and Lahore.

"Great Milky Way," Lemmon moaned, still holding the cup to his lips, "that agent in Lahore is writing a
whole novel! So much effort for such rubbish!"

As the screen darkened he had already forgotten all the reports. He was about to reach for theTerrania
Post to read the short story with the intriguing title of тАШGhanu, Mirror Image of a SoulтАЩ when he jerked
back in his seat and swung his feet off the desk. His bored face instantly changed expressions.
"RabintorgeтАж isnтАЩt that the Indian who supplied material about the Druuf linear hyper-propulsion that
was such an artful swindle it made a fool of the entire security force andтАж"

The speaking phase of the intercom connection, switched off during picture transmission, was now
activated by Lemmon. "Manners, get me all the data on Rabintorge, that charlatan from Lahore. At once,
Manners, itтАЩs urgent!"

When Frank Lemmon used that phrase, things were really urgent. He did not have to wait long.
Manners, a stocky 40-year-old, laid a stack of archive prints on the desk for him.

"Is that all?" Lemmon reassured himself.

"ThatтАЩs all. I compared our records with the main archiveтАЩs andтАж"

Frank Lemmon waved him aside. He wanted to be alone. He could read the perforated cards with their
coded symbols like others read a book.

He selected three reports. Sticking them in his pocket, he got up and informed the front office that he
had a meeting with Solar Marshal Mercant.

The leadership of Solar Security was located 18 kilometres away in the enormous government
skyscraper that had become TerraniaтАЩs landmark. However, considering the tasks to be accomplished
by the Solar Empire, their administration was not an overgrown octopus that provided thousands of
bureaucrats with a comfortable life.

The sporadic hours of laziness Frank Lemmon indulged in were a rare exception; still, due to the
phenomenal achievements he sometimes came up with, he replaced a skilled six-man team.