"Michael Swanwick - Scherzo with Tyrannosaur" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

proportion to the rest of its brain than that of any other animal except the
turkey vulture. Rex can sniff his prey" -- carrion, usually, but I didn't say
that -- "from miles away. Watch."
The lure went off with a pop and a puff of pink mist.
I glanced over at the de Cherville table, and saw Melusine slip one
foot out of her pump and run it up Hawkins' trouser leg. He colored.
Her father didn't notice. Her mother -- her stepmother, more likely --
did, but didn't care. To her, this was simply what women did. I couldn't
help notice what good legs Melusine had.
"This will take a few minutes. While we're waiting, I direct your
attention to Chef Rupert's excellent pastries."
I faded back to polite applause, and began the round of table hopping.
A joke here, a word of praise there. It's banana oil makes the world go
round.
When I got to the de Chervilles, Hawkins' face was white.
"Sir!" He shot to his feet. "A word with you."
He almost dragged me away from the table.
When we were in private, he was so upset he was stuttering. "Th-that
young woman, w-wants me t-to . . ."
"I know what she wants," I said coolly. "She's of legal age -- make
your own decision."
"You don't understand! I can't possibly go back to that table."
Hawkins was genuinely anguished. I thought at first that he'd been hearing
rumors, dark hints about his future career. Somehow, though, that didn't
smell right. There was something else going on here.
"All right," I said. "Slip out now. But I don't like secrets. Record
a full explanation and leave it in my office. No evasions, understand?"
"Yes, sir." A look of relief spread itself across his handsome young
face. "Thank you, sir."
He started to leave.
 "Oh, and one more thing," I said casually, hating myself. "Don't go
anywhere near your tent until the fund-raiser's broken up."
****
The de Chervilles weren't exactly thrilled when I told them that Hawkins had
fallen ill, and I'd be taking his place. But then I took a tyrannosaur tooth
from my pocket and gave it to Philippe. It was just a shed -- rexes drop a
lot of teeth -- but no need to mention that.
"It looks sharp," Mrs. de Cherville said, with a touch of alarm.
"Serrated, too. You might want to ask your mother if you can use it
for a knife, next time you have steak," I suggested.
Which won him over completely. Kids are fickle. Philippe immediately
forgot all about Hawkins.
Melusine, however, did not. Eyes flashing with anger, she stood,
throwing her napkin to the floor. "I want to know," she began, "just what you
think you're -- "
Fortunately, that was when Satan arrived.
The tyrannosaur came running up the hillside at a speed you'd have to
be an experienced paleontologist to know was less than optimal. Even a dying
T. rex moves fast.
People gasped.