"Martha Soukup - Things Not Seen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Soukup Martha)

"What was he working on'?"

"That information is classified."

Ginnie shook her head and looked at her notes. Yonamura leaves, 8:46:17 P.M. Herrera goes to
john, 11:08:51. H. Back, 11:15:02. H. dead, 11:15:43. Drobisch arrives, 11:26:25. It was odd that
Herrera was murdered right after he got back from the bathroom, but that didn't help. Did someone
sneak into the lab during the six minutes scientist and robot were away? Possible, but it didn't explain
how the robot didn't see that person murder the scientist in plain sight.

Another thing she couldn't understand was how Herrera could sit still while someone jabbed an ice pick
through his eyes. She flinched just thinking about it. If he'd been druggedтАФbut she'd been told blood
workups hadn't found anything.

The robot had been instructed to tell her nothing that would reveal the nature of Herrera's work, but he
had done nothing confidential in the hour and a half after his assistant left: there were no holes in what it
told her. The robot's memory could be edited by a programmer, but any such edit would be recorded in
deeply encrypted codes.

She'd checked them. Its memories had not been touched in more than two months.

Her eyes stung. Either she was feeling sympathetic pains, or she'd been working too long.

"Off," she told the robot. She left it cabled into her computer so she could start again first thing in the
morning.



George looked up from her book when Ginnie let herself in. "Long day," she commented. Ginnie grunted
at her twin sister, the one named after their mother's native state. Their father was from Virginia: the
family joke was that GinnieтАФVirginiaтАФwas Daddy's girl, and Georgia was their mother's favorite. It was
a durable enough joke that Ginnie worked with computers, like her father, and George did medical
research, like her mother.

The other family joke was how lucky they were no one was from New Jersey.

"You're telling me." Ginnie hung her jacket on her side of the closet. "Hey, this is your umbrella. Keep it
on your side!"

"Picky, picky. Fabulous mood you're in tonight." George was her doubleтАФwide-hipped,
narrow-waisted, with too much dark curly hair to keep under perfect control. Every time Ginnie looked
at her, she wanted to brush her own hair.

"You ever have some jerk leaning on you about some impossible task, and you'll be allowed to
comment."

George grinned. She worked at their mother's lab, so she was always expected to put in late hours. But
they'd recently finished a major project and were taking some time off. "What's up?"