"Charles Stross - Merchant princes 02 - The Hidden Family" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

wing.

And bridge. Iris never played card games. That must mean ... yes. The bridge
over the Charles River. More confirmation that she meant the Science Museum, an
hour before closing time. Right. Miriam grinned mirthlessly, remembering Iris's
bedtime stories about the hairy years under FBI surveillance, the times she and
Morris had been pulled in for questioningтАФbut never actually charged with
anything. When She was older, Miriam realized that they'd been too sensible, had
dropped out to work in a radical bookstore and help with a homeless shelter
before the hard-core idiots began cooking up bombs and declaring war on the
System, a System that had ultimately gotten tired of their posturing and rolled
over in its sleep, obliterating them.

Miriam whistled tunelessly between her teeth and plugged her cellular modem card
back into the notebook, ready to send in her feature article. Maybe Iris* could
teach her some useful techniques. The way things were going, she needed every
edge.
A landscape of concrete and steel, damp and gray beneath a sky stained dirty
orange. The glare of streetlamps reflected from clouds heavy with the promise of
sleet or rain tomorrow. Miriam swung the rental car around into the parking lot,
lowered her window to accept a ticket, then drove on in search of a space. It
was damply cold outside, the temperature dropping with nightfall, but eventually
she found a free place and parked. The car, she noted, was the precise same
shade of silver-gray as Iris's hair.

Miriam walked around the corner and down a couple of flights of stairs, then
through the entrance to the museum.

Warm light flooded out onto the sidewalk, lifting her gloom. Paulette had
brought Brill home earlier that afternoon, shaking slightly. The color- and
pattern-enhanced marketing strategies of modern retail had finally driven Brill
into the attack of culture shock Miriam had been expecting. They'd left Brill
hunched up in front of the Cartoon Network on cable, so Paulette could give
Miriam a lift to the nearest Avis rental lot. And nowтАФ

Miriam pushed through the doors and looked around. Front desk, security gates, a
huge human-powered sailplane hanging from the ceiling over the turnstiles, staff
busy at their desksтАФand a little old lady in a powered wheelchair, whirring
toward her. Not so little, or so old. "You're late! That's not like you," Iris
chided her. "Where have you been?"

"That's new," Miriam said, pointing to the chair.

"Yes, it is." Iris grinned up at her, impishly. "Did you know it can outrun a
two-year-old Dodge Charger? If you know the footpaths through the park and don't
give the bastards time to get out and follow you on foot." She stopped grinning.
"Miriam, you're in trouble. What did I teach you about trouble?"

Miriam sighed. "Don't get into it to begin with, especially don't bring it home
with you," she recited, "never start a war on two fronts, and especially don't