"Allison Sinclair - Assassin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Allison)

recovering. I thought he was a psychiatrist and told him to go to Hell and I'd
see him there. But he wasn't; he was a policeman. I asked if he was going to
arrest me, and he said, probably not. He put me in my place by telling me
bedtime stories about larceny, extortion, murder, terrorism; the great crime
syndicates and families--Until the medics put a stop to it. I'll give those
medics this much, they tidied up my neurochemistry nicely. It didn't hurt of
course that after all the publicity there was all kinds of money suddenly
available to pay for a prolonged course of pharmotherapy. Of course they didn't
want their lovely work spoiled by some policeman who wasn't going to charge me
but kept coming back. So one day he didn't come and I went home all ready for a
fresh start, to get out of my grim surroundings the dull, honest way. Then I
started going for college interviews. Getting asked when I was planning on
implants... Being told: about curricula are being upgraded to utilize the
ability to interface with databanks, about most professional jobs requiring
basic implants, about loan schemes available as part of the total educational
loan package ... money need be no object. I'd smile at that; it was the only
thing I could find to smile at. You'll know."
"I know," Glad said, quietly, eyes on my face.
"No reputable surgeon would touch me, with my history; back then there was
better than even chance I'd reject. Their faces'd change, and they'd say, very
sorry, but--" Glad nodded. "I started small--hacking into college systems and
making a minor nuisance of myself. Say dropping the first digit from file
identifiers at random ... I'd make a round of public terminals--those tenner-fed
ones they used to have--so I couldn't be traced. Then after a particularly
degrading interview I turned an endocodase loose in that system."
Glad whistled.
"Next day I had a summons from D'Inde. I went along through sheer bravado and a
determination to spit in somebody's face for the last time. By the time I left
he'd offered me a job. He could see the interface virus problem
arising--criminal and terrorist attacks directly through interfaces, and wanted
to set up a unit of people who would be immune--because they weren't interfaced;
keyboard and mouse people. I had the talent, and I was implant-proof. Problem
was there was no way someone with my history would be approved with central.
Julie Beaumont had to go."
Glad said, "He took a big chance on you."
"Oh," I said, "Not really. He was a better psychologist than any of the
professionals. He knew what I needed, and made sure I got it until I grew up
enough not to need it."
"Les, with that history--"
"Surely you can't believe I would be so clumsy as to use my home terminal--or,
after all these years, start taking out Netters?"
"I could think of two reasons. The Boss and Errel."
I took a deep breath, slowly realizing that my candor had, if anything, cost me.

"What's happened to the Boss, or Errel putting pressure on me to be implanted
driving me off the deep end, you mean?"
"Yes," Glad said simply.
"How wonderful it is to have friends who have faith in you," I said, dryly.
"Glad, I know something you don't know. I know I didn't do it. And I do not
believe Errel would."