"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 01 - A Logical Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

manufacturing industry.
Roger chuckled softly. He shook his head, imagining the shocked looks of those
same corporate executives if they ever learned the truth behind his success. They might
not be so pleased if they knew the whole story. Which was why he kept his revelation
locked in the subbasement in a room that only he could enter.
The stairs ended abruptly at the base of a huge steel door that took up the entire
rear wall. There was no keyhole or lock visible. A solitary metal plate some six inches
square was the only break in the cold, unyielding surface. Roger flattened his right hand
against it. It required the built-in sensors a few seconds to recognize his palm print.
Silently, the huge door swung open.
Technically, criminals intent on discovering his secret could kidnap Roger, force
him down to the subbasement and press his hand against the entry plate to open the vault
door. He strongly doubted that corporate raiders would be so bold. And even if they
were, the payoff inside the inner room would prove to be something outside their usual
line of business.
With a confident smile, Roger entered the nerve center of his secret headquarters.
Shaped like a square twenty feet long by twenty feet wide, with a seven-foot ceiling, the
chamber was entirely devoid of furniture. The walls were stone, the ceiling and floor both
concrete. A pair of naked hundred-watt light bulbs provided the only illumination. More
than anything else, the Spartan room resembled an army pillbox.
In the exact center of the room was a vermilion circle some nine feet in diameter.
Roger had carefully painted it there a few days after moving into this mansion two years
ago. Before that, a similar pattern, drawn in chalk, had decorated the living room carpet
of his apartment. Vermilion was used because its color came from mercury and sulfur, key
ingredients of the fabled Philosopher's Stone.
Inside the first circle was a second, eight feet in diameter. Together, the two
drawings resembled a round plate with a narrow rim. Names of great power were written
on that rim, transforming it into a barrier that nothing evil could cross.
Inscribed inside the two circles were the Pentagram of Solomon, as specified in
The Key of Solomon, the most famous of all magical texts. It was constructed with two
points upward, symbolizing the twin horns of the infamous Goat of the Witches' Sabbath.
The sign of a black magician.
Nowhere was Roger's exactness more evident than in the construction of the mystic
design. Here his computer background served him well. One wrong MS-DOS statement
and your program refused to run. One misdrawn line or incorrect symbol in your
pentagram and all hell broke loose.
Roger knew quite well the dangers he faced practicing the black arts. The literature
of demonology specified in gruesome detail the grisly penalties paid by those not
extremely careful in their dealings with the inhabitants of the nether regions. Death was the
least of the fates suffered by the unwary.
The pentagram served as more than a doorway for the inhabitants of the outer
darkness to enter our world. It also acted as a trap, holding those monstrous beings
prisoner inside the design. Only by performing a specific task demanded by the
summoning wizard was the demonic presence allowed to depart. Once banished, the being
was never again subject to the whims of the sorcerer. One wish per demon was the rule.
But, as Roger discovered early in his experiments, there were many thousands of demons.
Four years ago, he had been a second-rate computer hacker stuck in a go-nowhere
job in Silicon Valley. His obsession with exactness had earned him a reputation as a
difficult employee. None of the major firms in the area were willing to hire him. So he
slaved in obscurity, designing computer games at a salary that barely covered his living