"Doorsways in the Sand 02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

Doorways in the Sand
Chapter 2

Incidents and fragments, bits-and-pieces time. Like-
"You're not joking?"
"I'm afraid not."
"I'd rather it looked like hell for the obvious reasons," she said, wide-eyed, backing toward the door we had just come through.
"Well, whatever happened, it's done. We'll just clean up and..."
She reopened the door, that long, lovely, wild hair dancing as she shook her head vigorously.
"You know, I'm going to think this over a little more," she said, stepping back into the hall.
"Aw, come on, Ginny. It's nothing serious."
"Like I said, I'll think about it."
She began closing the door.
"Should I call you later, then?"
"I don't think so."
"Tomorrow?"
"Tell you what, I'll call you."
Click.
Hell. She might as well have slammed it. End of Phase One in my search for a new roommate. Hal Sidmore, who had shared the apartment with me for some time, had gotten married a couple of months back. I missed him, as he had been a boon companion, good chess player and general heller about town, as well as an able explicator of multitudes of matters. I had decided to look for something a bit different in my next roommate, however. I thought I had spotted that indefinable quality in Ginny, late one night while climbing the radio tower behind the Pi Phi house, as she was about her end-of-day business in her third-floor room there. Things had gone swimmingly after that. I had met her at ground level, we had been doing things together for over a month and I had just about succeeded in persuading her to consider a change of residence for the coming semester. Then this.
"Damn!" I decided, kicking at a drawer that had been pulled from the desk, dumped and dropped to the floor. No sense in going after her right now. Clean up. Let her get over things. See her tomorrow.
Somebody had really torn the place apart, had gone through everything. The furniture had even been moved about and the covers pulled off the cushions. I sighed as I regarded it. Worse than the aftermath of the wildest of parties. What a rotten time for breaking and entering and breaking. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods, but it was hardly the worst. This sort of thing had never happened to me before. Now, when it did, it had to happen at precisely the wrong time, frightening away my warm and lissome companion. On top of this, something of course had to be missing.
I kept some cash and a few semivaluables in the top drawer of the bureau in my bedroom. I kept more cash tacked in the toe of an old boot on a rack in the corner. I hoped that the vandal had been satisfied with the top drawer. That was the uninspired idea behind the arrangement.
I went to see.
My bedroom was in better order than the living room, though it too had suffered some depredation. The bed clothing had been pulled off and the mattress was askew. Two of the bureau drawers were open but undumped. I crossed the room, opened the top drawer and looked inside.
Everything was still in place, even the money. I moved to the rack, checked my boot. The roll of bills was still where I had left it.
"There's a good fellow. Now toss it here" came a familiar voice that I could not quite place in that context.
Turning, I saw that Paul Byler, Professor of Geology, had just emerged from my closet. His hands were empty, not that he needed a weapon to back up any threat. While short, he was powerfully built, and I had always been impressed by the quantity of scar tissue on those knuckles. An Australian, he had started out as a mining engineer in some pretty raw places, only later picking up his graduate work in geology and physics and getting into teaching.
But I had always been on excellent terms with the man, even after I had departed my geology major. I had known him socially for several years. Hadn't seen him for the past couple of weeks, though, as he had taken some leave. I had thought he was out of town.
So: "Paul, what's the matter?" I said. "Don't tell me you did all this messing?"
"The boot, Fred. Just pass me the boot."
"If you're short on cash, I'll be glad to lend you-"
"The boot!"
I took it to him. I stood there and watched as he plunged his hand inside, felt about, withdrew my roll of bills. He snorted then and thrust the boot and the money back at me, hard. I dropped both, because he had caught me in the abdomen.
Before I even completed a brief curse, he had seized me by the shoulders, spun me about and shoved me into the armchair beside the open window where the curtains fluttered lightly in the breeze.
"I don't want your money, Fred," he said, glaring at me. "I just want something you have that belongs to me. Now you had better give me an honest answer. Do you know what I'm talking about or don't you?"
"I haven't the foggiest," I said. "I don't have anything of yours. You could have just called me and asked me that. You didn't have to come busting in here and-"
He slapped me. Not especially hard. Just enough to jolt me and leave me silent.
"Fred," he said, "shut up. Just shut up and listen. Answer when I ask you a question. That's all. Keep the comments for another day. I'm in a hurry. Now I know you are lying because I've already seen your ex-roommate Hal. He says you have it, because he left it here when he moved out. What I am referring to is one of my models of the star-stone, which he picked up after a poker party in my lab. Remember?"
"Yes," I said. "If you had just called me and ask-"
He slapped me again. "Where is it?"
I shook my head, partly to clear it and partly in negation.
"I . . . I don't know," I said.
He raised his hand.
"Wait! I'll explain! He had that thing you gave him out on the desk, in the front room, was using it for a paperweight. I'm sure he took it with him-along with all his other stuff-when he moved out. I haven't seen it for a couple of months. I'm sure of that."
"Well, one of you is lying," he said, "and you're the one I've got."
He swung again, but this time I was ready for him. I ducked and kicked him in the groin.
It was spectacular. Almost worth staying to watch, as I had never kicked anyone in the groin before. The cold, rational thing to do next would be to go for the back of his neck while he was doubled over that way, preferably spiking him with my elbow. However, I was not in a cold, rational mood just then. To be honest about it, I was afraid of the man, scared to get too close to him. Having had small experience with groin-kicked persons, I had no idea how long it might be before he straightened up and came at me.
Which is why I took to my own element rather than stay there and face him.
I was over the arm of the chair, had the window the rest of the way up and was out it in an instant. There was a narrow ledge along which I moved until I had hold of the drainpipe, off about eight feet to the right.
I could continue on around it, go up or down. But I decided to remain where I was. I felt secure.