"Rog Phillips - The Old Martians" - читать интересную книгу автора (Phillips Rog)

 I KNEW WHERE we were going next, and I was uneasy about it. Herb and Dotty managed to sit
together and I got a place right behind them where I could eavesdrop. But they sat in silence.
The bus had left the ancient city behind, to head out over the desert toward one of the few structures
on Mars which had withstood the ravages of time without crumbling. An immense dome of solid concrete
reinforced with pure copper rods harder than steel. The Martians had know what Earth civilization didn't
learn until around the year three thousand: that copper can't be tempered, but pure copper becomes
tempered of itself in a thousand years.
That immense dome was a honeycomb of passageways and rooms, some of which were not open to
tourists. It would be a natural for Herb.
The bus stopped. The people were piling out and staring curiously at the smooth surface of the dome.
Especially at places where the reinforcement rods were protruding and glittering like tarnished gold.
Two of the permanent guards had come out to take charge of the tour. I caught the eye of one of
them and nodded toward Herb. The guard caught my meaning, edged over to his partner, and soon both
men were warned that Herb was to be closely watched.
I felt better, knowing that a couple of others knew about him. Maybe it would have been smarter to
have taken him in custody right then. But it would have meant a scene.
The procedure of the tour was for the guide to do all the talking, leading the procession through the
roped off parts of the dome, while the two guards followed along behind to make sure no stragglers got
left.
I let three or four people move in front of me so Herb wouldn't get suspicious. Dotty was sticking
close to him, plainly worried. And he was more excited than he had been at any of the other spots. He
fairly quivered, his eyes caressing the walls with a fevered look.
Dotty didn't miss his increase agitation. Especially after he whispered in her ear a couple of times.
The guide took the usual path. Straight into the dome, pausing at half a dozen small rooms with
carved walls, to arrive at a bank of elevators installed in the exact center; then straight up to the roof and
the observation platform from which miles and miles of desert and ruins could be seen. Then back down
to the second level, a zig-zag course through other rooms, and finally down a flight of steps to where the
tour started.
I kept my eyes on the back of Herb's head. You can tell a lot by doing that. At first his head turned
this way and that, indicating he was full of curiosity. I was waiting for that telltale sudden tensing, with the
head directed at some spot, that would tell of a sudden "memory" stirring in the man's mind.
I almost missed it when it came, because it was between two passagesтАФa blank wall. The briefest
pause, then Herb was going on again as though nothing had happened.
But now his head had stopped its curiosity-motivated pivotings. It was the head of a man who was
no longer curiousтАФwho has made up his mind about something. I didn't like it.
And when the group emerged into open air once more without Herb having tried anything I knew as
certainly as I had ever known anything that he intended coming back here, and soon.
In the comfort station before boarding the bus I scrawled a hasty note to the guards to investigate the
spot halfway between passageways 14 and 15 on the first level, and slipped it to one of them as I passed
him to get on the bus.
We visited four other spots on the tour. When Herb showed no real interest in them it only clinched
what I was already sure of, that he planned on returning.

AT THE Ancient City Hotel once again, I gave the high sign, and shortly Herb and Dotty were being
watched by capable men, leaving me free to go to my room.
Once there, I called the dome. They were just getting the X-ray setup in place to explore that wall
and promised to call me as soon as they were finished. Next I called C.I. and made my report. I was still
making it when the operator broke in.
"Steve Merrit wants to talk to you," she said crisply.
"Make the circuit three way," I said.