"Jim Stark - LieDeck Revolution 02 - Endgame" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stark Jim)

was still grieving today. Spiritually and psychologically, Lilly's mother was perhaps half the woman she
used to be, but the part that had survived was still a good and caring person. And her mom had finally
found a new тАЬman friend,тАЭ as she called him. She'll be fine.

Lilly fiddled with her seatbelt. She'd left a man behind, a live one, but that was more a blessing than a
heartache. We were just using each other anyway, she rationalized. That was true enough, but there was
more to it than that. Isn't that always the case, and every time it's the same basic tune, and almost the
same lyrics. There was no point in doing yet another mental review. Edward T.тАФor тАЬgood old Ed"тАФwas
a memory now, a reasonably good memory, but nothing more. He wouldn't be on her electronic
Christmas greeting list in eleven months, and she wouldn't be on his. тАЬGoodbyesтАЭ were losing their sting.

The music wasn't helping, so she took the headphones off again. For a while, she just listened to the hiss
of the engines and tried not to hear the voices insideтАФto no avail. Her thoughts went back to a routine
afternoon a week ago, last Tuesday, when she'd received an unexpected Netcall from Control Upper
AmericaтАФnot from some minion, but Control himself!

Control's real name was Mark Drummond, but nobody in his sweep of influence ever called him that.
Control was big, responsible for policing everything from the Panama Canal to the North Pole! The
Supreme Commander of the WDA was a scant six rungs up from Control Upper America. тАЬTake the
job, Ms. Petrosian,тАЭ he had strongly advised when he saw her do a body-language balk on his
Netscreen. тАЬNever mind that it looks like a tedious chore. It's only for a year, and once you're up in
Qu├йbec, you'll receive further instructions."

Her plush seat was tilted back, but physical comfort couldn't seem to kick her mind out of high gear. This
was supposed to be an ordinary flight, originallyтАФa ticket for the coach section, a little small talk, listen
to some music, ignore the film, look out at the sky, eat steak for lunch, sip a glass of undistinguished wine,
think about the new life she was heading towards, doze, more small talk, then disembark. But at 5:00
a.m. this morning, she had received a second Netcall from Control. тАЬOn the plane today,тАЭ he'd said,
тАЬyou'll be sitting in the first class section beside one Randy Whiteside, Michael Whiteside's son. He's not
one of our biggest fans, and apparently he has become involved with the U.S. LieDeck Unbanning
CommitteeтАФhe's even gotten chummy with USLUC's head honcho, Lester Connolly. His dad is
absolutely furiousтАФhe wouldn't even send the corporate jet to pick the boy up in Miami. Try to strike up
a conversation with Randy. I'll tell you why later."

Lilly wasn't keen on intrigue. She had joined the WDA to construct the new world, to do her small bit in
building the post-conflict era, to position herself at the forefront of this most exciting of human adventures.
Now, it seemed that she was caught in the ranks of an international regime whose image had been given a
public swirly by the media over a couple of ... she searched her mind for the right word ... peccadilloes.
Civilians, as a class, internationally, seemed to have condemned the entire WDA over minor misdeeds,
committed by a few bad apples. It just wasn't fair, but there it was. Oh well, she said to herself, the
further instructions I'm told to expect seem to have something to do with the Whiteside family. That
should be interesting.

Randy Whiteside was only eighteen, but he had a movie star quality about himтАФlong blond hair lighter
than his bronzed skin, exceedingly blue eyes, and shoulders twice as broad as Lilly's. They sat near the
front of the upper deck of an ancient 747 gas-guzzler, and he had the window seat. Ever since taking off
in Miami, he had used his headphones and the oval window to ignore the lanky woman to his left.

Lilly had been told that those who traveled first class usually assumed that they had something in common
with each other, but Randy was a boulder. тАЬLilly ... that's short for Lillian,тАЭ she had said as soon as she