"William Tenn - The Tenants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

"What? Oh, I guess so. I mean, of course. By all means this afternoon, Miss Kerstenberg. And I
want to see it for a double-check before you mail it."
He strode into his own office and huddled behind the desk. The whole business had upset him very
much. His first big rental possibility. And that little manтАФBohu was his name?тАФand that bulging
pocketтАФ
Not until quite late in the afternoon was he able to concentrate on his work. And that was when he
got the phone call.
"Blake?" the voice crackled. "This is Gladstone Jimm."
"Yes, Mr. Jimm." Blake sat up stiffly in his swivel chair. Gladstone was the oldest of the Sons.
"Blake, what's is this about your refusing to rent space?"
"My what? I beg your pardon, Mr. Jimm, but IтАФ"
"Blake, two gentlemen just walked into the home office. Their names are Tooley and Booley. They
tell me they tried unsuccessfully to rent the thirteenth floor of the McGowan Building from you. They tell
me that you admitted the space was vacant, but that you consistently refused to let them have it. What's
this all about, Blake? Why do you think the firm appointed you resident agent, Blake, to turn away
pro-spective tenants? I might as well let you know that none of us up here in the home office like this one
little bit, Blake."
"I'd have been very happy to rent the thirteenth floor to them," Blake wailed. "Only trouble, sir, you
see, there'sтАФ"
"What trouble are you referring to, Blake? Spit it out, man, spit it out."
"There is no thirteenth floor, Mr. Jimm."
"What?"
"The McGowan Building is one of those buildings that has no thirteenth floor." Laboriously, carefully,
he went through the whole thing again. He even drew an out-line picture of the building on his desk pad
as he spoke.
"Hum," said Gladstone Jimm when he'd finished. "Well, I'll say this, Blake. The explanation, at least,
is in your favor." And he hung up.
Blake found himself quivering. "Cranks," he muttered fiercely. "Definitely cranks. Definitely not
legitimate tenants."


When he arrived at his office door early next morning, he found Mr. Tohu and Mr. Bohu waiting for
him. The tall man held out a key.
"Under the terms of our lease, Mr. Blake, a key to our main office must be in the possession of the
resident agent for the building. We just had our locksmith make up this copy. I trust it is satisfactory?"
 Sydney Blake leaned against the wall, waiting for his bones to reacquire marrow. "Lease?" he
whispered. "Did the home office give you a lease?"
"Yes," said the tall man. "Without much trouble, we were able to achieve a what-do-you-call-it."
"A meeting of minds," the tiny man supplied from the region of his companion's knees. "A feast of
reason. A flow of soul. There are no sticklers for numerical subtle-ties in your home office, young man."
"May I see the lease?" Blake managed to get out.
The tall man reached into his right-hand overcoat pocket and brought up a famil-iar-looking folded
piece of paper.
It was the regulation lease. For the thirteenth floor in the McGowan Building. But there was one
small difference.
Gladstone Jimm had inserted a rider:...the landlord is renting a floor that both the tenant and landlord
know does not exist, but the title to which has an intrinsic value to the tenant; which value is equal to the
rent he will pay...
Blake sighed with relief. "That's different. Why didn't you tell me that all you wanted was the title to
the floor? I was under the impression that you intended to occupy the premises."