"Simmons,.Wm.Mark.-.3.-.Habeas.Corpses.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons William Mark)

"Gee, Stefan, when did you abdicate in favor of making Seattle a democracy?"
"I haven't," he said dryly, "but you make it very difficult to remain a benevolent dictator. And no, I have no ambitions to vie for the New York throne, myself. I would only consider making a 'run' at you if you threatened me and mine."
"Well, that's a reЧ"
"Which may yet be the case if matters on the East Coast are not resolved soon."
* * *
There wasn't much to say after that. Pagelovitch promised to investigate matters at his end. He also said something about beefing up my security for friendship's sake. Now that was mildly unsettlingЧthe "friendship" remark that is, not the security issue.
The front door rattled as I hung up the phone. "You're late," I said as Lupщ made a blind entrance behind a couple of sacks of groceries.
"Talk to Siskel and Ebert," she growled as she swept toward the kitchen.
"Can I help you with that?" I asked, trying to keep up. "And it's Ebert and Roeper: Siskel died."
"Like that makes any kind of difference around here," J.D. groused, trying to close the door behind him with one foot while balancing two more sacks of groceries and a plastic Blockbusters bag in his arms. "My bad. I was tryin' to separate the darbs from the clams. I mean I wanted to make sure I didn't bunko the rest of youse on the picks. But then your barn burner here decided to hook up some business on the side and ankled out . . ."
I looked at Lupщ. "I went shopping," she explained.
"She was gone a whole 'nother hour!"
J.D. was barely sixteen when someone with a set of brass knuckles patted him off to lullaby land during a gang war in Chicago. He "woke up" three nights later in a back alley under a decomposing heap of refuse and garbage. He never discovered who drained his body of blood, leaving him to rot like a regular corpse or combust like ignorant kindling upon his first encounter with the killing rays of the sun. Somehow, without benefit of Sire or sponsor, he survived. Impressive enough. More impressive that he had awakened undead in 1937 and survived into the next millennium as a rogue, dwelling outside the organized vampire demesnes.
The undead enclaves tolerated no loose cannons. Their attitude was: "Either you're with us and obey the rules or you're a potential X-File that needs to be canceled." When it came to The Kid, there were times when I could empathize with the latter philosophy.
"I don't know why I hurried," Lupщ said, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter with a heavy thump. "When I came back he was still trying to make up his mind."
I caught up with her and caught her around the waist. "Ah, the vagaries of youth," I exclaimed, and kissed her. She kissed me back and then pushed me away. "Youth? He's older than the two of us put together!"
"True, but not half as pretty."
She grinned, her teeth bright against the backdrop of dusky skin and pomegranate lips. My beloved was French Canadian but looked Latin American. Dark hair and eyes, a face that was structured more for sensuality than classic beauty; I affectionately called her my big-nosed girl. "Go start the first movie or we'll be up past dawn."
I slid my fingers inside the fall of her smoky dark hair and cupped her face. "How about a little intermission snack between features?"
"I'll make some popcorn."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know what you mean." She turned her head and kissed the palm of my right hand. "But if you want some downtime before bedtime we need to get the shows started. There's company outside, too, you know."
"Already up and running," Deirdre announced from the back porch.
"When did that happen?"
"Made two trips out to the wall while you were on the phone with Seattle." She came into the kitchen and began toting cans to the larder as Lupщ pulled them from the grocery bags.
"What are they watching?" Lupщ asked.
"Planet of the Apes."
"Heston or Marky-Mark?"
"The original. It's on tape. The remake is on DVD."
I nodded. The DVD player stayed inside. It had taken just about forever to teach some of The Neighbors how to use "play" and "rewind" on the VCR.
The Kid wailed from the den: "C'mon youse guys!"
Lupщ gave me a little shove. "Go. We'll be there in a sec."
I fingered the ring in my pocket and considered negotiating for another kiss first. Decided she was right: sooner begun, sooner done, and I could get down to the business of popping the question. "Okay, but I need to borrow Deirdre for a sec."
"Sure. Just make sure it's a quickie. Tempus fugit." Only the way she pronounced her Latin, it came out sounding suspiciously rude and naughty.
"I need your help in backtracking an email," I told Deirdre as we made a side trip to the computer in the study.
"Anonymous?" she asked, moving behind me as I sat and tapped the spacebar.
The seti@home screensaver vanished, revealing the digital desktop. "That and more." I moved the cursor to the taskbar and restored the email client to full screen status.
Which was blank.
"Wow," she said, "that's really anonymous!"
The inbox was empty. I opened the deleted files folder and scanned a list of messages from the past week, culminating with my two African strike-it-rich offers.
Nothing from a Dr. Pipt. Nothing remotely close to the approximate date and time of my missing missive.
I minimized the email program, returned to the desktop, and opened the general trash bin for deleted files. Nothing, nada, zip.
"I've heard of self-deleting emails," Deirdre offered. "Timed to self-destruct after being opened or after a certain amount of time has passed."
"Oh, this was much more than that," I said. "Any chance of still finding traces of it in my system?"
"I can give it a shot," she said, nudging me out of the chair so that she could have a turn at the keyboard. "I'm not really familiar with that particular technology, though. What can you tell me about it? If I have enough info, I might be able to 'ping' your sender."
I thought about that as J.D. bellowed from the den. If Deirdre did manage to ping Pipt, what if he decided to "pong" back?
"Tell you what, just beef up my security," I said, reaching down to hit the escape key. "Virus protection, firewall, the works. Let's back up the hard drive. And don't open any new emails without calling me."
She nodded and began to clatter away at the keyboard. "Just give me a yell when the movie starts."
"Sure."
I started to walk away and stopped to again contemplate my new acquisition. It sat on the mantelpiece like a jar of preservesЧa jar of throbbing, organic preserves.