"Smith, E E 'Doc' - SubSpace Vol 2 - Subspace Encounter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

over the place for not thinking of it sooner. First, I picked you out-out of all the
bladesmen of civilization. Then I started a lovely little rumor and kept it spreading that he
was afraid of you; scared to death. That he'd run a mile rather than meet you in anything
except a prelim to first scratch. So, being a proud and stiff-necked Garshan . . . ."

He whistled expressively. "I see. That would work on practically anyone, let alone a
Garsh. . . .

A tiny signal light flashed yellow, accompanied by a softly unobtrusive buzz. "Okay,
Lanjy, bring it in, please," Starrlah said, and the usherette came in. Without looking at
either the FirSec or the man, she strode up to the desk, placed a small package on its
top, about-faced smartly, and marched as unobservantly out.

Starrlah looked down at Rodnar's bloody shirt. There was no fresh blood; that already
there was pretty well clotted. She bent over, kissed him quite playfully, this time-said,
"Stay put, you, I'll be back in a jiffy," and picking up the package en passant, went into
the back room.

Rodnar sat up carefully, experimentally. Good-there was no stab of pain; no gush of
blood. He stood up, as carefully . . . walked halfway across the room toward the desk .
sat down in the chair he had occupied before, and buried himself in thought.

One phase of this operation he didn't care much for, being used without knowing anything
about it . . . but Great Powers, what a woman! He'd never been in love, he didn't think,
and there wasn't supposed to be any such thing as love at first sight, but if this wasn't
love, what was it? And love aside, he'd never dreamed of having an in with any such
powerful official as the Tyrant's First Secretary . . . so he'd have to have a horrible lot of
guts to do any squawking about it even in thought. . . .

Starrlah came back in, fresh and clean from her shower and wearing a new jersey and a
short, slit skirt to match. Her hairdo and makeup had remained untouched. "Oh!" she
exclaimed, and rushed over to look. "Darling! Are you sure it's stuck."

"I'm sure, sweetheart. All dry and hard. See? No fresh blood at all."

"Oh, wonderful!" She kissed him lingeringly; went around her desk; took her accustomed
seat. "But before we go into this grant business"-she touched the green folder with a
freshly glitter-nailed forefinger." there's just one more thing about this Masked Marvel
business. Very few people know anything about it, or are ever going to."

"I understand," he said, a little uncomfortably in spite of himself. "Those who can do you
some good and those you're serving notice on to tiptoe around you because you've got
more teeth and claws than a jungle tiger. . . ." He paused, then went on with a markedly
lightening mien, "It was a kind of a shock at first, thinking of myself merely as one of your
teeth, but the more I think it over the better I like it. It cuts both ways, you know."

"Of course it does!" She laughed delightedly and reached out; their hands met and held.
"I was hoping you'd see it that way-there are lots of men who wouldn't. It won't do you a
bit of harm, you know, to be the only person I've ever given a ninety-minute appointment
to." She picked up the green folder; began to flip its pages.