"E. E. Doc Smith - Lensman 7 - Masters Of The Vortex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

The fat man did not turn a hair. 'No, nobody would want to spy on me. Why?'
'I feel jumpy. I don't know why anybody would be spying on me, either, butтАФI'm neither a Lensman nor an esper, but I'd
swear that somebody's peeking over my shoulder half the time. I think I'll go over to the Patrol station and borrow one.'
'Nerves, my boy; nerves and shock,' Graves diagnosed. 'Losing an arm would knock hell out of anybody's nervous system,
I'd say. Maybe the Phillips treatmentтАФthe new one growing onтАФ sort of pulls you out of shape.
'Could be,' Cloud assented, moodily. His act had been a flop. If Graves knew anythingтАФand he'd be damned if he could see
any grounds for such a suspicionтАФhe hadn't given away a thing.

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Nevertheless, Cloud went to the Patrol office, which was of course completely and permanently shielded. There he
borrowed the detector and asked the lieutenant in charge to get a special report from the Patrol upon the alleged gems and
what it knew about either the cruiser or the pirates. To justify his request he had to explain his suspicions.
After the messages had been sent the young officer drummed thoughtfully upon his desk. 'I wish I could do something, Dr.
Cloud, but I don't see how I can,' he decided finally. 'Without a shred of evidence, I can't act."
'I know. I'm not accusing anybody, yet. It may be anybody between here and Andromeda. Just call me, please, as soon as
you get that report.'
The report came, and the Patrolman was round-eyed as he imparted the information, that, as far as Prime Base could
discover, there had been no Lonabarian gems and the rescuing vessel had not been a Patrol ship at all. Cloud was not
surprised.
'I thought so,' he said, flatly. 'This is a hell of a thing to say, but it now becomes a virtual certaintyтАФsix sigmas out on the
probability curveтАФthat this whole fantastic procedure was designed solely to keep me from analyzing and blowing out that
new vortex. As to where the vortex fits in, I haven't even the dimmest possible idea, but one thing is clear. Graves
represents TPIтАФon this planet he is TPI. Now what kind of monkey business would TPIтАФor, more likely, somebody
working under cover in TPI, because undoubtedly the head office doesn't know anything about itтАФbe doing? I ask you.'
'Dope, you mean? CocaineтАФheroinтАФthat kind of stuff?'
'Exactly; and here's what I'm going to do about it.' Bending over the desk, even in that ultra-shielded office, Cloud
whispered busily for minutes. 'Pass this along to Prime Base immediately, have them alert Narcotics, and have your men
ready in case I strike something hot.'
'But listen, man!' the Patrolman protested. 'WaitтАФlet a Lensman do it. They'll almost certainly catch you at it, and if they're
clean nothing can keep you from doing ninety days in the clink.'
'But if we wait, the chances are it'll be too late; they'll have had time to cover up. What I'm asking you is, will you back my
play if I catch them with the goods?'
'Yes. We'll be here, armored and ready. But I still think
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you're nuts.'
'Maybe so, but even if my mathematics is wrong, it's still a fact that my arm will grow back on just as fast in the clink as
anywhere else. Clear ether, lieutenantтАФuntil tonight!'
Cloud made an engagement with Graves for luncheon. Arriving a few minutes early, he was of course shown into the
private office. Since the manager was busily signing papers, Cloud strolled to the side window and seemed to gaze
appreciatively at the masses of gorgeous blooms just outside. What he really saw, however, was the detector upon his
wrist.
Nobody knew that he had in his sleeve a couple of small, but highly efficient, tools. Nobody knew that he was left-handed.
Nobody saw what he did, nor was any signal given that he did anything at all.
That night, however, that window opened alarmlessly to his deft touch. He climbed in, noiselessly. He might be walking
straight into trouble, but he had to take that chance. One thing was in his favor; no matter how crooked they were, they
couldn't keep armored troops on duty as night-watchmen, and the Patrolmen could get there as fast as their thugs could.
He had brought no weapons. If he was wrong, he would not need any and being armed would only aggravate his offense. If
right, there would be plenty of weapons available. There were. A whole drawer full of DeLametersтАФfully chargedтАФbelts
and everything. He leaped across the room to Graves' desk; turned on a spy-ray. The sub-basementтАФ'private laboratories',
Graves had saidтАФwas blocked. He threw switch after switchтАФno soap. CommunicatorsтАФah, he was getting somewhere