"Resnick, Mike - Oracle 3 - Prophet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"Yes."
"So you don't know what world he banked on?"
"Probaly Olympus," answered the old man. "That's . . . let me think, now . . . Alpha Hayakawa IV."
"What makes you think he did his banking on Olympus?"
"He liked the boots so much he ordered a second pair. Had me ship them to an address on Olympus."
"What address?"
"Well, now, that's privileged information, isn't it?" said the old man, staring at Lomax.
"I'd call it expensive information," said Lomax, placing a pair of two-hundred-credit notes on the counter.
"Well, considering that the poor man has passed on, I suppose there's no harm in it," said the old man, greedily snatching up the money and stuffing it into a leather pouch that he wore around his neck. "Computer, print out Jason Cole's address."
The address emerged an instant later, and the old man handed it to Lomax.
"I'd say good hunting," said the old man. "But it appears to me that your hunting is already done."
"I have a feeling it's just starting."
"Well, in that case, good luck, Gravedancer."
"You know me?" said Lomax sharply.
"It'd be hard to forget you," said the old man. "You were the only exciting thing to happen to Greycloud in half a century." He paused. "Don't worry about me alerting the authorities or nothing. First, they probably couldn't stop you from whatever you're doing; and second, most of them you killed deserved what they got."
"Thanks."
"But let me give you a word of advice, Gravedancer."
"What is it?"
"Would I be right in figuring you plan to take a trip to Olympus next?"
"You might be."
"I'd be real careful there if I were you."
"Oh?"
The old man nodded. "Now and then I hear things from people who are passing through."
"What kind of things?"
"Oh, I don't put much stock in the details," answered the old man. "You know how people tend to exaggerate out here. But those who are willing to talk about it at all don't make it sound like a real friendly place."
"I'll keep it in mind," said Lomax, walking to the door.
"Can I interest you in a pair of boots while you're here?" the old man called after him. "Or maybe a new holster for all those weapons?"
"Maybe next time," answered Lomax.
"Men in your line of work don't usually live long enough for there to be a next time," said the old man with a half-amused smile. "This is your second trip here, so you're already on borrowed time."
"Next time," repeated Lomax, walking out into the street.
Neil was waiting for him and opened the door.
"Did you find out what you needed to know?" he asked.
"Possibly," said Lomax, settling back on his seat. "At least I know where I'm going next."
"Where?"
Lomax looked over at him and smiled. "Elsewhere," he said.
They drove to the spaceport in silence. Then Neil parked the groundcar.
"You're sure you won't take me?"
"You'll live longer on Greycloud, kid."
"I thought the quality of life was supposed to be important," said Neil sardonically.
"You've been misinformed."
Neil left the vehicle and walked to the cargo area while Lomax entered the main building.
The gray-haired woman who had refused to help him earlier glared at him, but beneath the mask of hatred he thought he saw a certain smugness, a brief look of triumph before the mask was fully in place.
He walked slowly to the door leading to the landing field, scrutinizing the area carefully. A pair of lead-suited mechanics were gingerly bringing out a small packet of plutonium to fuel an ancient cargo ship that was still powered by a nuclear pile, and a crew of three men were fixing a couple of cracks and potholes at the adjoining landing strip, but otherwise the place seemed deserted. Then, suddenly, he saw a brief movement out of the corner of his eye, coming from the roof of a hangar. He turned to face it, but couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.
He lit a cigar, leaned lazily against a wall, and continued scanning the strip. A moment later the sun glinted off some metal on the roof of another hangar.
He walked to a vidphone directory and picked out a name at random, then approached the gray-haired woman.
"Call Jonathan Sturm and tell him that the Gravedancer's on his way," he said, walking out the front entrance before she could utter a reply or a refusal. "He's got until dark to put his affairs in order and make his peace with whatever god he worships."
He walked directly to the groundcar, entered it, and waited for Neil Cayman to emerge from the cargo area, carrying a box of computer parts.
"I thought you'd be gone by now," said Neil, surprised.
"Change of plans," said Lomax. "Do you own a ship?"
Neil seemed amused. "Where would I get a spaceship?"