"Resnick, Mike - Oracle 2 - Oracle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"Let me get this straight," said Gin. "You want to announce your presence, so you're paying them to keep it a secret? I don't understand."
"At least a couple of them will decide that if it's worth five hundred credits to me to keep my presence here a secret, it ought to be worth a couple of thousand credits to someone else to know I'm here." He paused. "By tonight just about everyone who might want to avail themselves of my services will know I'm here."
Gin grinned. "I never thought of that!"
"You didn't have to. I did."
"Where to now?"
"If I weren't on Port Marrakech, and you had a sizable sum of money and wanted to have someone killed, who would you hire?"
"I'd go right to the Surgeon," replied Gin without hesitation.
"The Surgeon?"
"His real name is Vittorio something-or-other, but everyone calls him the Surgeon. He can slice you into pieces before you even know he's there."
"Where can I find him?"
Gin shrugged. "Half a dozen places. He gets around. He's got a little action here and a little action there."
"Choose the likeliest spot and drive there."
"This time of day he's probably at the Wolfman's. That's a restaurant over in the Platinum Quarter, near where we were drinking last night."
"The Platinum Quarter? I didn't see anything that opulent last night."
"It's pretty run-down," agreed Gin. "But right before Port Marrakech was mined out, someone discovered platinum, and there was one last flurry of activity before they decided that there wasn't enough to make mining it worthwhile. The Platinum Quarter is what got built over where the mine used to be. The miners left so many tunnels there that you can get from almost any building in the Quarter to any other building without ever coming up for air -- if you know your way around." He paused. "Every now and then someone who doesn't know the tunnel system goes down there, and as often as not he's never seen again."
"It's not big enough to get permanently lost in," commented Chandler. "I assume these missing people don't live long enough to starve to death."
"Whistler, we got guys living down there who haven't seen the sun in ten years," answered Gin. "You pay 'em what they want for safe passage, or they take it anyway and leave your corpse for the worms." He paused again. "You've never seen anything like a Port Marrakech worm. Damned things are a couple of feet long, and they've actually got teeth. You leave a body down there and they can strip it to the bone in less than a day."
"Pleasant place."
"The men who live down there are worse than the worms. Some people say they've got the worms trained to recognize 'em and leave 'em alone; others say that they eat the worms to stay alive."
"Does the Surgeon ever go down to the tunnels?" asked Chandler.
"From time to time. Course, everyone knows who he is, so they leave him alone. Mostly, they make their money from hiding anyone who's got to disappear for a while, and they pick up a little extra from people who've got no business being there in the first place."
"Interesting," commented Chandler noncommittally.
"Interesting, hell -- it's goddamned dangerous," said Gin devoutly. "If you're thinking of going down into the tunnels, you and me are gonna part company."
"I'll keep that in mind."
They drove for another few minutes, and then Gin stopped in front of a small rectangular building that seemed out of place in this city of domes and angles. There were no signs on the windows or the door, but Gin assured Chandler that advertising was unnecessary, and that everyone who had a reason to be there knew where the Wolfman's restaurant was.
"I'd better go in with you," he announced as Chandler got out of the landcar. "You go around asking for the Surgeon without anyone knowing who you are and you're liable to undergo an operation you hadn't planned on."
Chandler followed Gin into the restaurant, which seemed to be on the dismal side of normal, with cheap chairs and torn booths, scarred tables, a very small bar along the left-hand wall, and a surly-looking waiter and waitress.
Standing behind the bar was a creature out of a child's worst nightmare. It stood and walked like a man, but its head was that of a wolf, with a prolonged foreface and impressive canines. Its ears were not quite human and not quite canine, but were quite large and pointed and set high atop its head. Its face, neck, chest, and hands were covered with fur, and it wore an elegant formal outfit that covered the rest of its body.
Gin led Chandler right up to it.
"Whistler, meet the Wolfman," he said, stepping aside. "I' ve heard of you," said the Wolfman, extending a hand/paw.
"I'm surprised I haven't heard of you," replied Chandler, reaching out his own hand. "Cosmetic surgery?"
"Yes."
"Why a wolf?" asked Chandler.
"Why not?" was the reply, as the Wolfman made a croaking sound deep in his throat that Chandler took to be a chuckle. "At least people remember me once they've seen me." He paused. "Of course, I can see where that's not necessarily an advantage in your line of work." He stared at Chandler. "Why do I think you didn't come here to sample my food?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Oh?"
"The Surgeon."
"He's not here," answered the Wolfman.
Chandler looked questioningly at Gin, who had been studying the few occupied tables. Gin shook his head.
"You might try again tomorrow," added the Wolfman. "He's one of my best customers. He comes around four or five times a week." The Wolfman pointed toward a table near the bar, one that backed up to a wall and gave the occupant a clear view of the doorway. "That's his regular table."
"Not anymore," said Chandler.
"Oh?"
"That table is mine now," said Chandler. "You might pass the word."
"I don't know if the Surgeon is going to be real pleased with that."
"That's not my problem," said Chandler. "He's changing jobs or worlds -- it's up to him."
"Does he know about it?" asked the Wolfman.
"He will," said Chandler. "If you see him first, you can tell him."
"Not me, friend," said the Wolfman. "I spent four years having this face created. The Surgeon could slash it to ribbons in three seconds."
"He won't," said Chandler. "You're under my protection, starting right now."
"I don't want any part of this," said the Wolfman nervously. He paused. "Maybe you're as good as they say you are, and maybe not. But I've seen the Surgeon."