"Reed, Robert - TreasureBuried" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

"What the hell are we doing, people?" Mekal screamed from the mound, his face
ready to burst with all the blood. "Be crisp! Be alert! Execute, execute! Eight
runs down is nothing!"

Another pitch, then the ominous swift crack.

"Just do," Wallace muttered to himself, diagramming another blast into left
field. "Just do."

He solved the monkey puzzle -- it was the freefall sensation, in part -then
helped Simmons and Potz in the Microbe Division, learning enough about green
algae genetics to see new possibilities; and somewhere in the midst of work,
without planning it, he asked Potz about Mekal's young wife. How long had they
been married, how many children?

"Three years, and none." Potz gave her coffee a quick suspicious glance. "Rumor
says that Mekal lacks. Wants kids and can't. Only you know rumors, it could be a
lot of hopeful thinking from the downtrodden. The prick shoots blanks, and all
that."

Wallace absorbed the comments, nodding and then saying, "He doesn't wear a ring,
does he?"

"Probably allergic."

"She looks young. What is she, ten years younger than him?"

"More like fifteen. Met her when he was doing one of those community relations
lectures at the college." Potz plucked a thick brown hair from her coffee cup.
"Not mine. Yours? No? God, I was in Meiter's lab this morning. He had that yeti
skullcap on a countertop, and you don't suppose . . . uggh!" Then she sipped her
coffee anyway, smiling eyes on Wallace.

He didn't notice her expression. He was thinking hard about several things, some
of them invisible even to him. Wallace was famous for his long pauses and the
sluggish, thoughtful voice, particularly when some problem deserved his full
focus. The yeti skullcap, yes. He had to find time to go over the genetic maps
with Meiter, its authenticity established but the Company unsure what to do with
their investment. Rumors said that the Tibetan monks had sold it to them for a
small fortune. Their people were arming against the Chinese again, selling art
and oddities worldwide. What if they'd sold other yeti artifacts to their
competitors? It was a problem, all right. Cloning the yeti would bring it back
from extinction, which was good news. But were the genes too close to human?
That was the main issue now. There were half a billion rules and regulations
concerning genetic work with human substances. Maybe it would be best for their
competitors to move first. Let their fancy lawyers hit the beach, and all that.
That's how the Executives would be thinking now. Besides, where was the profit
in cloning yetis? They'd make a splash, sure, but not like ten or twenty years
ago. Resurrecting the dead -- one of Wallace's favorite things --had reached its
high water mark when the Japanese cornered the market on carnosaurs. Tailored